#spence my beloved
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take my breath away
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.
a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy
wc: 1.3k
warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff
“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”
“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”
“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”
“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”
“You never did sports as a kid?”
“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”
Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”
“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”
“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”
Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.
You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.
(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)
Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.
His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.
“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”
“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”
“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”
Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”
“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”
You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”
“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”
“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.
He nodded. “How’d you know?”
“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”
Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”
“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”
“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.
“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”
“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”
He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”
“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”
“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”
“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.
“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”
“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”
Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”
You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”
“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”
For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”
“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”
You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.
When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.
“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.
“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”
Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”
“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.
“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”
“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”
Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”
“But my teasing’s okay?”
He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”
“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”
His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.
“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”
“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”
Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”
You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
#i know this scene in the show does not happen in s2 but i alsoooo do not care lol. canon continuity is dead to me in my fics#s2 spence my beloved<3#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fluff#x reader#sadie writes
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shayne be normal challenge
#shayncer my beloveds tho#spence looks so good#turtleneck spencer save me#spencer#shayne#smosh#shayncer#shayne topp#spencer agnew
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Ah, we starting my "wtf couldn't Spencer have a kid of his own" era early I see.
#realisticly I don't think he ends up in such a nice place to raise another human being#but hey! neither to be a FBI agent!#at least give him a cat or smth#criminal minds#spencer reid#emily prentiss#anyways Em and Spence's friendship my beloved
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It’s been so long since I last saw the show, but just started rewatching criminal minds and season one spencer will always own my heart 😭 if anyone have any baby Spence (doesn’t just have to be baby Spence) or ohter cm character requests, please feel free to send them my way 🫶
#baby Spence my beloved#sage is rambling#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#emily prentiss x reader#derek morgan x reader#aaron hotch x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid drabble#dr spencer reid x reader#doctor spencer reid x reader
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Shocked and mystified that the advice telling you that if you read it'll help your writing is right. Sometimes you gotta sit on the other side of it all.
Anyway read From The Roof Of My Mouth by @reeseweston good stuff.
#i am so late to the party#but nakoa and ryan my BELOVEDS#i've missed them#reese if you see this i love you#spence nonsense
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why is my go to comfort thing writing about men who don’t exist
#billy hargrove#steve harrington#eddie munson#supernatural#strangers things#dean winchester#criminal minds#spence reid#spiderman#starwars#obi wan fanfiction#steve harrington icons#peter parker x reader#peter parker#billy hargrove my beloved#eddie munson deserved better#fanfiction writer#fanfic writing#spn crack
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I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader
Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.
Word count: 2.4k.
Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.
Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!
MASTERLIST
A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.
Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.
You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.
“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.
“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”
“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”
The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.
It was his soul returning to his body.
He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.
All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.
You were alive.
“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.
Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.
“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.
Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.
“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.
“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.
“JJ?”
“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”
Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.
“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”
It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.
“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.
“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”
Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.
This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.
“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.
“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”
Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.
God, if you don’t ever wake up—
“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.
She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.
“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.
“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”
Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.
“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”
Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.
“García,” Gideon insisted.
A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.
“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”
“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.
Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.
“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”
Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.
It was just you and him.
The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.
As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.
Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.
He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.
Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.
He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.
His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.
“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”
He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.
“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.
You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.
“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.
He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.
“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.
“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”
It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.
“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”
You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.
Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.
It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.
Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.
Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.
“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”
He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.
“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”
Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.
The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.
It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.
“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.
Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.
You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.
“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”
It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.
He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.
A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.
Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.
Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.
Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.
Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.
“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.
Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.
“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.
You were awake.
Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.
You coughed and writhed with discomfort.
“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.
You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”
Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.
“Hi,” he merely said.
You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.
“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.
“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”
“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.
This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.
“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”
The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.
“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.
“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”
“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.
The guilt was still there.
“But I didn’t.”
“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.
“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”
He chuckled. “Barely.”
“It looks good. I like it.”
He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.
“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.
“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.
Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.
“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”
“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.
“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”
I love you, he thought.
“How could I not?” he said instead.
Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.
I hope you liked it!!!!
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x fem reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner x female reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction
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Meddle About
Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader
‘Cause it's not just a figure of speech - you got me down on my knees.
It's gettin' harder to b r e a t h e .
Summary:
You hate it when Morgan teases Reid. So when Morgan says that you are Reid's 'Mommy' - you verbally fire back without even thinking about it.
Reid vastly overthinks it.
So much so that he ends up calling you Mommy by mistake. And you definitely don't hate the sound of that word coming off his lips.
Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season One.
Word Count: 6,300
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general smut fic - porn with some plot; dom/sub dynamics (but this isn't a pre-discussed dom/sub relationship, the characters just fall into these roles naturally), Spencer is submissive and the reader is dominant; the main theme is Mommy kink - Spencer discovers that he has a Mommy kink after a joke that Morgan makes, referring to the reader character as Spencer's Mommy; Spencer calls the reader 'Mommy' and the reader also refers to herself with that title; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina (and breasts); it could be interpreted that the reader has larger breasts/is plus sized (but I think anyone of any size could enjoy this fic); the reader is part of the BAU; this is meant to take place during season one (baby Spence my beloved) but there are no other major canon events mentioned and the case being discussed is one that I have made up; some very background typical elements of Criminal Minds - murder, killing, systemic vicimization of women/violence from men towards women (passing mention of bodies being consumed by wild animals); the reader and Spencer fuck while on a case (but they aren't endangering anyone's lives from lack of their attention, so it's fine); mentions of potential injuries from a car accident (theoretical - doesn't actually happen during the fic); very slight threads of Morgan x Reader (mentions of Morgan being attracted to the reader - it could be one-sided); very passing mention of Reid having breeding kink (doesn't take place during the fic, just one of his thoughts); for the actual smut section: this could be interpreted as virgin!Spencer but that's not explicitly stated here (at most, this is just inexperienced!Spencer) (the reader is definitely way more sexually experienced than him); praise kink (we all known Spencer is so eager to be praised); mentions of breastfeeding - Morgan makes a joke about the reader breastfeeding Reid, which later turns into faux breastfeeding kink (the reader doesn't actually lactate, but she lets Spencer suck on her tits and calls it breastfeeding); the reader calls Spencer: 'baby', 'good boy',; descriptions of subspace - but it's not specifically called 'subspace' in the text; thigh humping - Spencer humps the reader's thigh; cumming in pants (Spencer); multiple orgasms/overstimulation (Spencer receiving); handjob - the reader jacks Spencer off while he is sensitive after his first orgasm; using lube as cum; dumbification kink - the reader calls Spencer 'dumb baby' and generally enjoys seeing his intellect drop the more turned on he becomes (Spencer also likes being called this); technically the reader doesn't get to cum, but she gets turned on from treating Spencer like the good boy that he is (and this is more about him). I think that's everything.
A/N: This was directly inspired by the scene from Reid's birthday party, where Morgan says 'Mommy to the rescue!' (talking about JJ) and then Spencer says '...Mommy?' and it seems like he is discovering his Mommy kink in real time. Especially because he is then trapped between Elle and JJ and he makes direct eye contact with their boobs, and he just has such a look of scared kink realization in his eyes. I considered copying that moment exactly and just replacing JJ with the reader character, but this seemed like more fun lmao. I had so much fun writing this and I think this is one of my best fics in a while. I hope you guys enjoy it!!
...
Generally, you hated being stuck with grunt work.
You knew that it was all part of the job - an important part of it. Paperwork, side interviews, background checks. Sifting through someone’s apartment looking for aspects of what kind of person they were based on their everyday life.
But you thrived more on being right in the middle of things. You preferred interacting with suspects, chasing people down, harsh confrontation.
Gideon said that you were overly controlling, impatient, brutally honest - that you had an ‘abrasive personality’ that put most men off. But that was why he often brought you into interrogations with male suspects. Many of the people you caught - men with superiority complexes who targeted the weak to make themselves feel powerful - they hated that you weren’t intimidated by them. That aspect of abrasion between you and the suspects often brought out a lot of information - things they spewed out trying to intimidate you.
But you weren’t needed on that front today.
No - instead, you were doing grunt work. The kind of work that made you impatient and generally aggravated.
The only upside was that you got to do it with Spencer.
He was one of the only men that voluntarily worked so closely with you so often, because he wasn’t intimidated by you. He took orders from you very well and naturally fell under your authority, bringing a natural chemistry to your partnership when you worked with him. Plus - his seemingly endless stream of ‘fun facts’ was like listening to the radio, which did help to soothe your boredom during these kinds of mindless tasks.
You were on a case in Texas. Five women raped and tortured before having their bodies hung from a tree and consumed by cotoyes that the UnSub knew lived in the area. Since police had closed in on him, he had gone on the run. He had killed three more women since fleeing, while leaving no clues as to what his ultimate endgame would be or where he would be going next.
Hotch sent you and Reid to find that out while the rest of the team worked victimology and profiled the scenes of the most recent murders, following the trail he was leaving.
After spending hours sifting through the suspect’s house, looking for any small clue about where he might be going - you came up empty. When you touched base with Hotch, he told you that you and Reid would be going to visit the suspect’s ex-wife - who lived four hours away. You needed to interview her to see if she could give you any further insight to the man, and perhaps - beat him to the house if she was the ultimate target.
(A lot of the victims looked like her, and it couldn’t really be a coincidence.)
You knew that lives were at risk, and it was juvenile of you, but all you heard was: long, boring drive. Boring day. You hoped that Reid would be good company through it.
Now, you were waiting outside of the police station in the bureau-issued SUV, waiting for Morgan to come and give you the file with the ex-wife’s address and contact information.
“Did you know that over forty-six percent of Texans own a gun? Texas is second only to Montana in registered gun ownership, where over sixty-six percent of citizens proudly tote their right to bear arms.” Reid told you, continuing to look over the case files that were sitting in his lap.
When you looked over toward him to reply to this odd factoid, your mind got caught up on something else.
“Reid, come on, take your feet off the dashboard!” You told him, reaching over to gently smack his knee, trying to encourage his legs down from the awkward position.
It bothered you for several reasons - the idea that he would leave shoe prints on the dashboard, which was minor and cosmetic, but still annoying. And the fact that if the car did happen to get hit head-on, the air-bag would explode out and push his knees into his chest, causing his shattered leg bones to pierce his organs and possibly kill him. (At the very least, he would never walk again.)
Speaking of which:
“And put your seatbelt on!” You barked, now noticing that he wasn’t wearing it past all of the files he had piled into his lap. “You of all people should know how many deaths are caused by not wearing a seatbelt.”
Spencer opened his mouth to spout out this exact statistic, but before he could get the words out, another voice entered the conversation.
“Aw, Reid, listen to your Mommy.”
You were almost startled by Morgan’s voice coming from the open driver’s side window so suddenly. His appearance there as if out of nowhere was so jarring that you couldn’t get caught up on the way he had called you Reid’s Mommy. Your head whipped toward Morgan so quickly that you didn’t notice the flash across Spencer’s features - worry, dawning. You didn’t take note of the way he rushed to comply with putting on his seatbelt. As if he was rushing to please you, even unconsciously.
“I bet if you’re a good boy, she might even breastfeed you when you get there.”
Morgan then pursed his lips and made loudly suckling noises, clearly imitating breastfeeding in what he thought was a comedic way.
Again - glaring at the muscled man through the open window, you didn’t see Spencer’s reaction. You didn’t see the way his large, glassy eyes flickered to your breasts (only emphasized by your own seatbelt crossed over the center of your chest) before he forced himself to focus on the files in front of him so that he wouldn’t feel so caught.
“Shut up.” You told Morgan, your voice so commanding and firm that his simple order was enough to get him to stop his antics.
“And give me the address already.” You held out your hand expectantly, and Morgan handed you the file, which you placed onto the center console.
Then, you turned back to him for one last point, determined to have the final word in the conversation.
“Besides, we both know that you’re the one who’s got an obsession with my breasts, anyway. Just because you stare while wearing sunglasses, doesn’t mean I don’t notice. My eyes are up here, pal.” You told him sharply.
He let out a scoff at this, and rolled his eyes behind his dark frames - but he made no clever comeback.
You had successfully bested him. And with that knowledge, you rolled up the window and left him standing dumbly in the parking lot as you sped off.
…
You pulled over later to put the address into the GPS system, and you let out a long-winded groan when you found that it was more than four hours away. Four hours and twenty five minutes.
So you pulled over again to get gas and stocked up on snacks, and you were surprised that Reid wasn’t giving you some lesson about the colloquial use of ‘soda’ and ‘pop’ (thinking that you hadn’t listened the other ten times when he had gone on the same rambling point about linguistics and how language evolves).
He was being far too quiet for your liking.
But he was keeping his eyes glued to the files, and you guessed that he was churning over something in that big brain of his, like he usually was.
You were entirely surprised when the next time he spoke - it wasn’t about the case at all.
“How - how do you know that Morgan likes your breasts?” He asked, his voice low and mousy, looking straight ahead as he fidgeted with his hands in his lap.
“What?” You gaped, the word flying out of your mouth as your brain was utterly slow to process what he had just said.
Hearing Spencer use the word ‘breasts’ was jarring, but somehow utterly adorable. You found it stirring a slight heat within you. Especially because he was still so shy. The whole thing made you want to pin him down and force the shyness out of him.
Spencer felt the need to further explain himself.
“When - when you were talking to him, you said: ‘we both know that you’re the one who’s got an obsession with my breasts.’” He said, repeating back what you had said, word for word, using that perfect memory of his.
You wondered if that’s what he had been doing, sitting there in his seat so silently for the past hour of the car ride - going over the conversation again and again in his head, trying to make sense of it. And because he couldn’t make any sense of it by himself, now he was consulting you.
Again, you found it so utterly adorable.
“Morgan didn’t deny it. So - was it a hypothesis based on something, or did you just call him out hoping that you weren’t wrong?” Reid continued, sparing only a singular glance in your direction, a look that you caught out of the corner of your eye with your gaze still mostly focused ahead on the road.
You found it intensely cute that he was using the word ‘hypothesis’ in this situation. You wondered if he ever turned it off - the textbook big words and the intellect that he always carried himself with. You wondered if you could make him turn it off. You wondered if there was any situation where Spencer Reid could be as stupid as any other man - chasing a bone, desperate to get his nut off.
For the first time ever - you imagined Spencer Reid underneath you, blabbering nonsense, begging for release with your hand around his cock as you pumped him, red and aching, so slick in your palm. Desperate, empty-headed, beautifully stupid.
(See, this was what happened when you were forced to do grunt work. You got bored. And when you got bored - you had to entertain yourself somehow.)
“It was a pretty well-informed hypothesis.” You replied. Now that Spencer had brought the topic up, you certainly weren’t going to shy away from the discussion. “Morgan often brings up my sex life, and wants to engage in detailed discussions about my sexual encounters with me. So I assume that he spends a fair amount of time thinking about me in a sexual way.”
Reid let out a choked-off noise at this.
You continued.
“Plus, he’s always staring down my top. He’s not exactly subtle.”
“You - you actually notice that kind of thing?” He chirped, his voice becoming a few octaves higher as worry flooded him.
You bit your lip, suppressing a grin.
Of course, you had noticed the times that Spencer stared at your breasts as well. He was even less subtle about it than Morgan was. You didn’t mind it when he did it, because you knew that Spencer wasn’t exactly casanova. He didn’t have a different girl every other week like Morgan did, so taking a glance down your shirt when he passed you a morning coffee was probably about as much action as he got.
Secretly, letting him get away with it was your gift to him.
“Don’t worry about it, baby.” You told him, the pet name slipping out mindlessly as you reached over and gently patted his knee as a form of reassurance.
This movement unintentionally drew his eyes toward your chest, especially in his desperation to look anywhere but your face, not wanting to make eye contact with you. But he found his eyes glued to the swell of your breasts once again - hating how perfect they looked, even through the simple cotton shirt and plain bra that you wore.
“Sorry, Mommy.” The word slipped out before he could even consciously process it. “Sorry!”
Spencer raised a hand to smack his own face at lightning speed, and slumped down into his seat in embarrassment.
You bit your lip to suppress a grin. It stirred a filthy heat in your belly. But you knew that Spencer likely needed a while to sit with this and wouldn’t want to talk about it - not yet. So you reached over and turned on the radio, letting the music fill the space so that the silence wasn’t so awkward and gutting.
…
Spencer didn’t talk for the entirety of the rest of the car ride, which didn’t surprise you.
When you finally arrived at the ex-wife’s house, his hands were shaking with nerves as he tried to unlatch his seatbelt. You probably should have just left him alone to struggle, but an evil spark, likely fueled by the boredom of the day, flared up inside of you. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over the console, very purposefully showing off your breasts as you gently pushed his hands away and undid the belt for him.
“Here, let Mommy get that for you.” You said, distinct teasing on your breath as you mumbled the words into his ear.
Spencer huffed out a deep sigh and collapsed back into his seat, and pushed his hair out of his face in frustration. But he didn’t say anything more as you gathered the files in preparation for the interview.
He only spoke when you moved to get out of the car.
“Look, I-” He began a half assed explanation, and you easily cut him off.
“You let Morgan get in your head too much.” You told him with a chuckle, opening your door and getting out.
But as he forced himself to follow you with numb limbs - he knew that this definitely wasn’t all Morgan’s fault.
…
The ex-wife didn’t know much.
She described the marriage as hell - the suspect exhibited all the typical behaviors as a husband that they would have expected. He hated women, and he wanted full control over his wife at the time, which eventually led down the path of divorce. They had to sell the house they had bought together, but neither of them had moved out of Texas since. But he hadn’t contacted her in years.
She had two young kids from a new relationship, and when the woman stepped out to take a call, you picked one of them up to soothe his cries, hushing him gently while you rubbed his back.
Because of this, Spencer found himself even more dizzy and confused.
He knew that it was Frueadian - some deep, misguided part of his psychology - something broken and missing inside of him because of his own fractured childhood.
But seeing you being so sweet with a kid, especially after the day he’d had - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be your baby, or if he wanted to shoot his cum so deep inside you that it would ensure he could give you one.
(Ultimately, he knew that it was likely both - and that didn’t answer any questions for him. It just gave him far more questions.)
…
Even though the ex-wife couldn’t give you guys much more than you already knew, Hotch wanted you and Spencer to stay close by in case the suspect decided to make his ex-wife the end game. The two of you would be able to make it to her first if she called for help.
So you and Spencer had dinner at a random local barbeque place off the highway and Spencer still didn’t talk much through it, other than posing some theories about the case. Even though he was a bit more talkative, he still refused to look at you - he stared down at his plate the whole time. Though whenever he did look up, you noticed that his eyes lingered on your chest - and he still wouldn’t look you in the eye.
By the time the bill came around and the two of you were ready to leave, you knew exactly what you had to do.
…
Spencer waited by the car with his bag while you checked in and got a motel room (needing to stay in town, you got a room for the night). When you came back, you handed him the room key and then moved to get your bag out of the car.
“Do… you already have yours?” He asked quietly.
“Hmm?” You hummed in reply, slinging the strap of your go-bag over your shoulder before you closed the back door and used the remote to lock up the car.
“Your room key?”
You suppressed another grin.
“I only got one room.” You told him. “You don’t mind sharing with me, right?”
You gave him a purposeful look - looked at him through your lashes, bit your lip slightly, and subtly squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, emphasizing them. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, but hopefully it seemed subtle.
“I - uh - no.” Spencer stuttered. “It’s fine. We can share.” He gave a grin, not wanting to appear upset, even though his entire body was racked with nerves.
Spencer followed you to the room and he fumbled with the key with shaking hands for a moment before he sighed and then handed it to you.
His insides quaked when he saw that there was only one bed.
He wasn’t sure if he should say anything about it. The two of you had slept in the same room before, but you had never shared a bed before. Sure, you had slept near each other before. He had accidentally fallen asleep on your shoulder on the plane or vice versa. But you had never crawled into bed together with the intention of sleeping together.
And yes, just the entendre behind it made Reid’s head spin.
He had a heavy knot in his gut, and hatefully - a distinct stirring in his crotch. He could only imagine how embarrassing it would be for you to wake up and see him compromised in some way. Or god forbid, if you caught him moaning in his sleep because of unconscious dreams that he couldn’t stop - for you to think that he was some kind of dirty sex pervert because of it.
He felt an overwhelming need to clear the air overtake him. He had no clue how to broach the subject, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to spend the night like this. He wouldn’t be able to sleep with this anxiety hanging over his head.
He studied you carefully as you sat down on the edge of the bed, ditching your bag off to the side and heaving out a tired sigh as you began taking off your shoes.
Spencer put down his own bag and then stood there, fidgeting nervously as he searched for words.
“I - uh - I am sorry about earlier.” He mumbled out the beginnings of an apology. “What Morgan said was stupid, and I-”
“I don’t think it was stupid.”
You let out a chuckle, and reached up the back of your shirt. Spencer found himself frozen, his eyes tracing your every moment as you unhooked your bra underneath your shirt and then moved to maneuver the straps out from your short sleeves while you kept talking.
“I think he had a point.” You added on. “Good boys should get a reward. And I think you were fairly good today. You didn’t eat all your veggies at dinner, but you kept your feet off the dashboard and you were quiet during the car ride. You definitely get points for being patient during such a long trip, baby.”
Your voice smoothed into a soothing tone, that word - baby - melting like butter over your tongue in a way that made Spencer’s knees wobble. He hadn’t known it until right now, but you calling him a ‘good boy’ and listing off such mundane things he had done that made him worthy of a reward fired off sparks inside of his brain.
A breath choked off inside of his throat as you stood up off the bed and peeled your bra completely out from under your shirt. Somehow it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen, revealing the hard peaks of your nipples and the beautiful natural teardrop shape of your breasts to him through the cotton fabric.
Spencer wanted to speak, but his tongue felt so heavy and dry inside of his mouth. He knew that he was staring at your chest so blatantly now, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away. He couldn’t even feel ashamed anymore.
That dull tingle in his crotch had turned into a full on stinging interest, and he unconsciously pulled at the fabric of his pants, trying to loosen some of the tension that was growing, not even considering how it might look to you - him dumbly reaching for his crotch to make it look looser when his hardening bulge was becoming more obvious by the second.
It was one of the most ‘caveman’ things he had ever done in front of you - standing there with his mouth hanging slightly agape, pulling at his crotch without caring how it looked. You definitely wanted more, wanted to see how dumb he could get. How far you could make him devolve.
“So what do you say, baby boy?” You hummed, stepping close into his personal space now, causing him to get a whiff of your perfume - something that was only a dull trace after such a long day, but still smelled so good. “Do you want Mommy to breastfeed you? Do you wanna suck on my tits as your reward?”
You gently ran a thumb across his cheek, and paired with the words, Spencer’s brain short-circuited.
He knew realistically that you weren’t actually offering to breastfeed him. There was no evidence in your life to say that your body could actually support the production of milk currently - but you were offering to let him play pretend. To suck on your tits with a very sexual air, to call you Mommy without the teasing humiliation behind it that Morgan had hinted at (or maybe Spencer liked that humiliation, he wasn’t even sure). (He hadn’t even known before this morning that he liked the idea of calling you Mommy, but here he was).
All he could conjure in response was the dumbest, non-human sound.
“Nngh.”
It was a grunt from the back of his throat - too much blood swelling to his cock all at once and too much direct attention from you making him dizzy.
You giggled quietly.
“Come on, baby. Just say the word. And Mommy will give you everything you need.”
Spencer inhaled sharply. At this point, he was desperate to get some oxygen to his brain.
His mind was racing, chanting out:
‘Yes! God, yes! I want it so badly, Mommy! I want anything you’ll give me. I need you. I need you so badly.’
But all his lips could form in the wake of such dizzying lust was:
“Please.”
“Good boy.” You sighed.
You used a hand on his chin to tilt his face up to meet yours, and you consumed him in a kiss - he was hungry and eager to meet your touch, moaning loudly into your mouth, his hands racing to touch you now, rushing up to grip on your hips in the most utterly needy way. He balled the fabric of your shirt in his fists, like he couldn’t get enough of you - like he was afraid you would dissolve away if he let go of you for even a second.
It was cute, to say the least.
You only let the kiss last for a moment, though. You pulled away to a disappointed whine from Spencer, which you quietly hushed.
“Hey, it’s okay baby.” You soothed him. “Come here. Mommy’s gonna take good care of you.”
You lead him toward the bed, getting rid of his tie in the process, and Spencer stepped out of his shoes along the way. You slid onto the bed and laid up on the pillows on your back, Spencer clumsily following you, crawling on all fours. The two of you had barely started, but he was full-on panting now, racing to catch his breath while his blood hammered through his veins.
He watched on with eager curiosity while you got comfortable, fluffing the pillow under your head before you then reached down and pulled up your shirt. You pulled the fabric to sit up under your chin, finally revealing your gorgeous breasts to him.
If he was lost for words before, then he had receded back to a total neanderthal now.
His mouth fell open and his salivary glands started working overtime as his eyes raked hungrily over your chest - enjoying the pure beauty of the fatty mounds, striped with zig-zagging stretch marks and completed by your hard peaked nipples.
“Here, come on, baby.”
You had to remind Spencer what the goal was, guiding him into place with a hand on the back of his head. You helped ease his body to lay on top of yours as he relaxed into you - and his mouth finally found its rightful place on your breast. He became greedy, suctioning hard on your nipple as though he might actually get something out of it.
Truthfully, he did get something out of this.
It definitely wasn’t any form of nutrition, but it was something that drove him lustfully insane and made his head fuzzy and warm in the best way. This was the only time in his entire life that he didn’t have ten thousand thoughts running through his mind like the news blasting on television in the background. This was the only time since his first conscious memory that he had actually known his mind to be quiet.
He felt intensely thankful for it. Intensely thankful toward you for giving him this feeling.
In that moment, without all the noise, all he knew was the comforting feeling of your fat tit under his mouth, the heat of your body under his own as you cradled him. The soothing firmness of your hands through his hair and down his back - and the distant, sweet purring of your voice in his ears.
“Good boy.” You hummed, loving the feeling of him moaning around your nipple - so constant and so greedy now that you were sure he didn’t even know that he was doing it. “Such a good boy for me. Such a good boy for Mommy.”
Your cunt was humming between your thighs, aching so hard at seeing Spencer like this. The usually composed, intelligent, practically robotic Doctor Reid reduced down to a blubbering, moaning, needy mess just because he wanted to suck on your tits.
Just because you had called yourself Mommy a few times in his presence.
It was so utterly beautiful, and you wanted more.
(You didn’t think that you could ever let him go after this. You probably wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of another woman touching him after this. But you would have to think on that more later.)
You noticed Spencer canting his hips, unconsciously seeking friction against his hard cock while he continued to suck on your breast. With his eyes closed blissfully, drool gathering around his lips where they met your skin in the most utterly adorable way. You couldn’t help yourself - you scooted your knee between his thighs. You then used a hand to help his hips into place, adjusting him so that he was getting good friction against your denim-clad thigh.
“There you go. There you go, sweet boy.” You hummed, feeling another jolt through your body when he let out a sharper moan against your tit, and began humping your leg in earnest.
You were quick to encourage him, putting both hands on his hips and helping him along while he greedily hung onto you. He had on your hip, the other hand slipping up to cup fingers around the bottom of your breast, making sure you didn’t escape him while he moved his body against you so frantically.
“That’s just what you needed, isn’t it, baby?” You moaned out, your voice wavering slightly as the pleasure of it all thrummed through you. “Just a dumb little baby who needed Mommy’s tit.”
The term ‘dumb little baby’ came flying out of your mouth before you could stop it. Though you knew exactly why it happened. Seeing such a brilliant genius reduced down to this truly did something to your ego. And apparently hearing those words from you did something to him, too.
He whined sharply against your skin and his hips stuttered abruptly. You knew it wouldn’t be long before he came in his pants, his cock throbbing against the friction of your thigh. And this thought alone caused your mouth to run off without restraint.
“Such a needy little thing.” You sighed. “You love being Mommy’s dumb baby, don’t you? Not a single fucking thought between your ears, just sucking on Mommy’s tit without a care in the world.”
Spencer moaned and it sent another jolt through your body - another harsh pang through your cunt. You loved how much he needed you. You loved how much he was clearly eating this up.
You didn’t even care if you got to cum tonight; you just wanted to exhaust him for all he was worth. Because he was so fucking pretty like this.
“You gonna cum for me, baby boy? You gonna cum for Mommy? Come on, baby. Cum for me.”
These words were what ultimately sent him over the edge. Well that along with your strong hands on his hips, encouraging him along while he was mindless and busy mouthing on your breast.
His jaw dropped open, finally loosening that desperate suction on your now slightly sore nipple as he began to pant frantically over your now spit-soaked skin. He moaned hotly while he humped you in an entirely adorable, almost distraught manner - absolutely desperate to have the most friction on his cock while his orgasm overtook him.
You could feel his needy cock throbbing against you, trapped inside of his pants, shooting off hot ropes of cum that quickly soaked into his underwear and even then, seeped into the fabric of his slacks. You grinned and bit your lip as you felt that wetness even beginning to soak into your jeans, knowing he must have set off quite a big load.
Spencer soon collapsed on top of you, gulping in air as he tried to catch his breath.
Any normal person would have taken pity on him (seeing as he was clearly nervous and inexperienced) and wound things down to end the night here. Anyone else would have likely let him rest.
But again, you felt devilish temptation overtake you. (It was a feeling that seemed to be much more ripe around Spencer Reid.)
You just felt thankful that your temptation and inclination toward chaos came in the form of lust, rather than something more violent, like the people you studied every single day. Everyone around you should be thankful for that.
You used your leverage (and the fact that you weren’t nearly as exhausted from the experience) to flip him over onto his back. He let out a surprised sound as his back made contact with the mattress - blinking up at you with shocked, glassy eyes as you moved down his body slightly.
“Wha-?” He mumbled out the question, only getting out part of the word before you reached for the zipper on the front of his now wet pants.
“Hey, shh, baby. I just wanna see you.” You told him quietly, causing him to stare down the length of his own body at your hands as you worked.
You got the button and zipper undone quickly and you let out a quiet ‘fuck’ as you peeled back the wet fabric of his grey slacks to reveal the sight of his simplistic (very Reid) white cotton underwear slightly transparent and stuck tight to his cock, coated in wet, sticky cum.
“So pretty baby.”
He only whined in response.
You couldn’t help yourself - you reached up and pulled down the waistband of his underwear, feeling more lust pricking through you as he was truly revealed to your eyes. He was perfect. Glossy and wet with his own release, his cock pinky red from the exertion and friction, still half hard. You pulled the clothes down over his hips and he lifted his body to help you, clearly glad to be rid of the mess, and the second you untangled the fabric from his ankles and ditched everything aside, you were back on him.
You skimmed the tips of your fingers oh-so-lightly up his shaft where it was sprawled across his pelvis, and his hips jolted. He let out a bitter gasp - as though cold water had been splashed across him.
“You said-” He choked on the words as you ran your thumb right underneath the crown, gently pressing into the head, causing him to choke on a moan while his knees quaked.
You sat on his knees to keep him still and his head became so fuzzy once again.
‘You said that you only wanted to look.’
The sentence died off in his lungs somewhere, and truthfully - he didn’t want to protest. He didn’t want you to stop.
“Sens-sensitive.” He whined. “Too much.”
“But you’re so pretty, baby.” You replied, your voice turning smooth and warm like butter again, melting over his whole body, causing all of his muscles to go soft and pliant for you. “Your cock is so pretty. I need to touch you.”
He let out another strangled noise when you cupped your hand and took him fully in your grip this time, giving one good tug across his cock from root to tip. When you did this again, faster this time, his lungs seized inside his chest - trying to take in oxygen so quickly, as though he were drowning on dry land.
“You gonna be good for me, baby?”
“Yes.” He gargled back in response. “Yes, Mommy.”
He was already so wet from cumming in his pants, and he let out a pathetic dribble of precum as you continued to move your hand - so it was an easy, slick slide. One that sent harsh shockwaves through him from overstimulation. Against his own will, he soon ballooned back to full hardness - becoming painfully swollen in your hand while you sped up your touch and closed your fist tighter around him. It caused the most wonderful hurt between his legs, and made a downright filthy wet sound as you pumped your grip faster along his needy cock.
Spencer heard wailing and felt the soreness against his throat before he realized that he was the one making those desperate sounds. He distantly wondered what it might sound like to someone else, if the rooms on either side were occupied, if the motel would receive a noise complaint about some frail woman getting fucked to death by her husband next door - because that’s what he sounded like in his own ears.
But any of those half-thoughts were chased out of his brain the second you flicked your thumb up over the head of his cock and your dirty mouth filled his ears once again.
“Gonna milk this pretty cock, baby.” You told him, your voice firm. “You gonna show Mommy how much you can cum for me? Gonna show me what a good boy you are?”
Spencer let out another pathetic sound, his body singing with pleasure at his pure need to prove to you that - yes, he was a good boy.
He felt tears wet on the side of his face before he realized that he was crying, but it was all too good to ask you to stop.
You used your other hand to cradle his balls and you swooped down to capture his gasping mouth in another kiss (a very messy, open mouthed kiss that Spencer could barely pay attention to). Spencer screamed into your mouth while he painted his stomach with cum once again.
You only stopped jerking his cock once you had truly milked every last drop from him, his hips seizing up off the bed and your hand almost slipping off him completely from how sloppily wet it was with more of his cum added to the mix.
He was purely exhausted then. His eyes blinked heavily, struggling to stay open. He vaguely remembered you cleaning him off and tucking him into bed - but he definitely enjoyed falling asleep curled up next to your warmth.
…
The next morning, Spencer felt hungover.
He wondered if that’s what good sex always felt like - the combination of endorphins rushing through your body and physical exertion tackling you over. His legs were sore, as though he had run several miles. (Which wasn’t even something he could make a bold comparison to anyway, because he didn’t exercise nearly as much as he should for someone with this job). He woke up starving, grateful when you drove to a diner down the road after checking out of the motel and planted him in one of the booths before going outside to call Hotch in order to touch base with the rest of the team.
You came back with a small grin on your face.
“Turns out that tip the ex-wife gave us about their first house in Arlington was pretty solid.” You told Reid. “They caught the guy on his way there. He had another girl in the trunk. They got her back mostly unarmed, and took him into custody.”
Spencer nodded. “That’s good.”
When he moved to grab another sugar packet out of the caddy on the side of the table, three of them already open and empty beside his cup of coffee, you grabbed him by the wrist.
“That’s enough, baby.” You told him.
His stomach curled, that distinct feeling running through him again. And against his will, that word slipped out - again.
“Yes, Mommy.”
...
A/N: This is a standalone oneshot. There won't be a sequel or a continuation, so please do not ask for one. If you liked the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written, or consider reblogging to show your appreciation. If you want to see more Spencer Reid fics that I have written, you can check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist, or you can check out my Masterlists for other fandoms to see if anything catches your eye. Thank you for reading!
#sundrop writes#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#sub!spencer#sub!spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic
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Thoughts on touch starved spencer with a touchy gf?
touch starved spencer my beloved!!!
he'd lovvvveeeeeee it like he hates admitting what he wants because he doesn't want to seem needy or clingy but when he comes home after a long day and you're right at the door when he walks through it, immediately slinging around arms around his neck and hugging him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek, followed by another and another, inching closer to his lips before you can't help but messily kiss him, spencer sighing as you did as his hands moved to rest on your waist.
"missed you" you whispered against him before you pecked his lips, pulling away to look into his eyes, smiling sweetly as you let your hand trail down his body, biting down on your bottom lip as you palmed him through his clothes, revelling in the way his eyebrows twitched, lips parting slightly as his hands squeezed your waist.
"love touching you, spence, d'you like when i touch you, baby?" you teased, smiling at the way he nodded eagerly, licking his lips as you stroked his half hard cock through his clothes. "r-really needed you today" he practically whimpered, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck, letting out a relieved sigh as you touched him.
"aw you poor thing" you cooed as you unbuckled his belt, undoing his pants so you could slip your hand into his underwear to take his length into your hand, spencer whimpering at the slightest touch, his hips rolling into your hand as his hot breath fanned your neck.
#📬 maeve's mailbox!#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fandom#dr spencer reid#mgg#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid smut#criminal minds smut#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds oneshot#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x reader
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Behind Closed Doors 2
Part one
You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.
Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words
A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!
He looked good in pink.
That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.
“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”
“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”
Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.
Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you.
Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.
A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.
"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.
“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”
“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away.
“Ugh, do not wink at me.”
His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.
To talk to him or not talk to him?
You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.
Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.
Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.
"Hi.”
"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"
“Can I talk to you for a moment?”
"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.
“In private?”
There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.
“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.
Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”
You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.
Then everything snapped.
You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.
With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.
“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”
“My… hair?”
You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”
“My shirt?”
“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”
Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”
"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”
But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."
You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."
A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”
“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”
His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.
“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”
Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”
But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.
You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.
“Tell me more, Spence.”
He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”
But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was.
But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.
“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”
“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."
He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.
After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.
“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”
His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”
“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”
“And?”
“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.
There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”
His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”
“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”
“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”
You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”
"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”
“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”
His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.
“Please?”
You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”
“I can probably finish in five.”
You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.
He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading?
“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”
Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.
He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines.
“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.
“You’re so pretty.”
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”
You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm.
The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.
“Do you mind if I spit on it?”
He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”
“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."
"I'll make an exception for this."
You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.
His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…”
Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”
He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze.
“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”
His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”
His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.
“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”
His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”
Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.
“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”
You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"
“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”
You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.
Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”
He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.
The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.
You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught.
But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.
His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”
A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.
As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”
He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.
“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”
He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.
“What? What’s wrong?”
He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”
“What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.”
You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”
“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”
You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”
“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”
You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”
He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”
“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”
He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”
You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”
When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.
“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”
His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”
"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."
He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”
“See? It’s all about perspective.”
His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.
“Will you come with me?”
Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.
“You want me to come with you to the museum?”
"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"
It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.
And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.
On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.
“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”
You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”
He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”
“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”
His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”
You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.
With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.
#behind closed doors#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Fanfiction#gifwriting
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this is the job | S.R.
next
You and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.
who? spencer reid x retired!reader
content warnings: takes place before the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place (so like circa 9x20), retired!reader is not actually retired yet, slight bickering, spoilers for season 6 finale (supply and demand), reader is female
word count: 1.13k
a/n: just a little shorty piece about my beloved spencer and retired!reader, im having a lot of fun writing this little vignette style series. i know it's short but the next piece will be long and very hurt/comfort heavy.
When the phone started ringing, you thought it was Spencer’s phone, but after letting it go for a few rings, you begrudgingly realized it was your ringtone. Groaning, you turned in Spencer’s arms and grabbed your phone off of your bedside table before answering the call. “Hello?” You greeted groggily.
There was only one person who would be calling you at two in the morning. Andi Swann’s voice rang through the receiver, “We need you to come in.”
“Now?” You asked, blinking sleep out of your eyes. Next to you, Spencer started to wake up. Using his thumb, he rubbed small, soothing circles over your hip while you talked on the phone.
It was a pointless question, you already knew the answer, and that was why you were already getting out of bed. “Yes, we need to get you out as soon as possible. We might have a lead on The Program.”
You sighed, looking over at Spencer, who was now sitting up, as you nodded, “Okay, I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.” You hung up the phone, setting it back down on the bedside table before you made your way to the closet to retrieve your go bag.
“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked, burning both of your retinas when he leaned over to turn on a lamp.
Hesitantly, you started grabbing clothes out of your side of the dresser. Most of your clothes would be in the apartment that the bureau would set you up in, but you could bring some of your things. Basics, mostly. “Uh, yeah,” you answered.
Peering over at you while you tugged on a pair of jeans, Spencer furrowed his brow. “You just got back,” he responded, getting out of bed himself.
“I know, but that was Andi. She says they might have a lead on The Program, so I have to go in,” You informed him, trying not to topple over while you put your socks on.
Sat on the edge of the bed, your boyfriend leaned back and watched you pack. “I believe the operative word there is ‘might’. Tell them to send someone else,” he urged, not wanting you to leave.
Shaking your head, you zipped your bag shut, “You know they don’t have anyone else.” It was true – you were the only female undercover agent that Swann had.
Spencer clenched his jaw, “I know they don’t have anyone else, that’s part of the problem. They need to hire someone else to split the burden with you, it shouldn’t be all on you.”
“This is my job, Spence. I can’t just tell them I’m not coming in. You drop everything as soon as Hotch calls,” you reminded him.
Reaching out for your hands, Spencer pulled you in, so you were standing between his legs. “Hotch would let me spend a night in my own bed before calling me back in. You got home at ten, baby. It’s been four hours and eight minutes,” he said, keeping his voice low in the dead of the night.
Giving in a little, you leaned into him, “Our jobs are different. We have different demands.” You brushed off his concern. There was at least a part of you that knew he was right. As usual, you called Spencer as soon as you had debriefed with Andi. He picked you up and brought you home.
He placed his hands gently on your waist, “You’re burning the candle at both ends. You don’t eat or sleep enough when you’re undercover, and that won’t do anyone any good.”
Stepping back, you wiped a hand down your face, “I know, but there are so many people out there who need my help. I could save those people.” You bargained with him.
Spencer shook his head, “We’ve spent a total of four nights together this calendar year. It’s April.”
You knew that. You kept track just as much as he did, but that didn’t change the fact that you had a job to do, “You knew the score when you asked me out, Spence.” Your tone was a warning. When he asked you out after you worked with the BAU to rescue Renee Matlin, you warned him that you weren’t around much.
Admittedly, you hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.
Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you inclined your head toward him, “This is the job.” This job was who you were, Spencer knew that just as well as you did.
“This isn’t the job, love. You’re acting like you don’t have an option. It’s almost as if…” his voice trailed off as if he was stopping himself from saying something he’d later regret.
You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “You might as well say it.” Maybe he’d give you a reason to walk out the door.
He shrugged helplessly, “Fine, I think Andi’s taking advantage of your selflessness and your need to please everyone.” He narrowed his gaze, “You were just gone for five weeks, and now you’re leaving again.”
What crushed you the most was that he was right. “I don’t want to let anyone down,” you murmured. Padding over to him, you wrapped your arms around him, holding your breath until he reciprocated. “That includes you,” you admitted, chest tight, “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
Taking a deep breath, Spencer smoothed your hair at the back of your head, “You’re gonna go save some lives, because that’s what you do.” His voice was low and steady, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You jumped when a phone started ringing, this time it actually was Spencer’s.
He picked it up and answered the phone, “Hey,” he greeted, face falling as the other person spoke. “I’ll be right there.”
Eyeing him hesitantly, you saw his entire demeanor change. The BAU had a case. Checking the time, you pulled back, “I should go.”
“Y/N,” he said. “I don’t want to part on bad terms,” he revealed to you as he started to get dressed himself.
Peering up at him, you offered your boyfriend a small smile, “We’re never on bad terms, angel boy.” You were just navigating a complicated relationship.
He raised his eyebrows like that statement surprised him, “but if I’m not going to see you for another month, then we can at least drive in together.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you had already made your decision, “If we drive in together, then I have to call you for a ride when I get back.” You settled your hands in your lap, crossing one leg over the other.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Spencer responded, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
next
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#written by margot#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds angst#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fic#dr spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds hurt/comfort#spencer reid hurt/comfort#spencer x retired!reader
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Hey I can do more too!! Maybe a blurb with some sweet smut with Spence where he has just come back from a long case and just wants to truly make love to you 🤭. Needy Spencer is my religion 🤞
Xoxo- 💋
“𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰” (𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖)
༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; needy!spencer x fem!reader
༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; (poorly written smut), early seasons!spencer my beloved, baby boy is needy ofc, sub!spencer, thigh grinding (Spencer to r), fingering (f receiving), protected p in v sex
༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.8k
༉‧´ˎ˗ an; needy spencer is also my religion as well, how bizarre !! 💋 anon, you deserve a big kiss 😚.
cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox
As soon as Spencer got home, he only had one thing on his mind, getting you in bed with him. After such a long case and being away from you for over two weeks straight, he needed your intimacy to relax him, he needed something or someone to fall back onto and he was glad that you always allowed it to be you.
When you two reach the bedroom, he’s quick at stripping, all the way down to his plaid purple boxers. You watch him in adoration, your boyfriend is gorgeous, you have to admit. You quite often catch yourself zoning out just admiring his natural beauty.
“Y/n..” he mutters, biting his plush bottom lip and staring down at you.
“hm?”
You two have been together long enough to where you can see right through his little facade of innocence. The pouty lips, the big doe eyes he’s flashing at you, the state of undress he’s in, you know exactly what he wants, and you’d be a fool not to give it to him.
“You need something baby?” he nods without hesitation, his lips still forming that adorable pout. “You need me?”
He nods frenetically, inching closer to you, obviously just waiting for permission to let go and finally give in to his lustful urges. “I need you so bad, you don’t even know..”
“Then what are you waiting for, hon?” you let a small smile slip, gazing into his eyes in a daring manner as he closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. He revels in the taste of your lips, both hands holding the sides of your face gently to ensure your soft lips stay pressed against his own.
A low groan escapes Spencer, muffled by your tongue in his mouth, as he backs you up towards the bed. You let your body fall onto the plush mattress, Spencer falling right along with you, hovering above you.
You slot your thigh between both of his, pressed directly to his crotch, and he takes it as you giving him the go-ahead to begin grinding down into the softness of your bare thigh.
“Oh,” he moans against your lips, pulling back. “Y/N, please..”
“Doing s’good, Spence,” you breathily moan into his ear at the feeling of his hardness grinding against your leg, your breath tickling the skin of his neck. Your words seem to encourage the eager boy, the movements of his hips speeding up, whines and moans flowing freely from his lips.
Your mouth preoccupies itself, nipping gently at his ear before moving to suck on his neck below, eliciting even more gorgeous, lewd sounds to erupt from deep within his chest.
He quickly snaps out of his trance, tilting his head just enough so his lips crash down onto yours. His hand travels down your body to your thigh, nimble fingers slipping past your sleep shorts and panties, finding your dripping core. There’s no precision to his technique as he pumps his two fingers inside your hole, curling just enough to brush against that spongey spot deep inside you.
“Oh my god,” you moan out, thighs trembling as you force them to stay open, his fingers thrusting deeper inside you.
“Y/N,” he whines against your lips while his thumb begins to rub tight circles at your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to approach your climax, grinding against his hand and making a mess of the palm of it. “Come for me, baby,” And you do. All over his hand.
He slows the previously harsh pace of his fingers, helping you ride through your orgasm as the rocking of your hips slowly comes to a stop. Removing his hand from your shorts, he doesn’t waste one second in cleaning the mess, licking his fingers clean.
You moan at the visual, yanking his face back down to yours. He reaches an arm up to the nightstand, blindly opening up the drawer and feeling around for a condom. He pulls one out, ripping it right open.
Rolling the latex onto Spencer’s erection, you help him line himself up with your entrance, leaving it up to him to push in. He does so slowly, wanting to properly savor it.
“Nice and slow Spence, that’s it,”
“H-holy fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into your ear, bottoming out inside you. His pulls out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside before slamming back into you, moaning into your ear as he does it. You have a similar reaction, moaning at the painful pleasure, your hand rubbing at his back to encourage him to keep up with his steady pace.
“I never want to be away from you for that long again,” he whimpers against you, his teeth digging into the exposed skin of your shoulder to stop from being too loud, reaching deeper than he think he ever has.
“Me neither, Spence, me neither.”
#reidsdaisies#reidsdaisies spencer <3#💋 anon#spencer reid#sub spencer reid#sub!spencer#needy!spencer reid#spencer reid smut#sub spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid oneshot#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction
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just remembered spencer and alex play fortnite together almost every night ... theyre the duo of all time
#spence/alex my beloveds#finding a way to insert alex into every single one of my fics#my best friend#spencer#alex#smosh
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Absolutely OBSESSED with the way they all know that Reid is literally the best option when it comes to....well, reading stuff, but even so Emily and Morgan still hesitate to give him the guy's journals cause they know that whatever messed up shit he did to those women would be imprinted at his brain forever.
Also the initial reaction to him not getting what Em and Derek were implying- oh you know they only give him the sadist-journals on rare occasions.
And Rossi's response aghaghag "oh yeah he is ok, that is our lil special guy for you" the only found family ever.
Look at Emily's body language here, she so not want her adopted baby brother that tends to touch dead bodies for a living to the unsub's disturbed fanfiction.
the lil, awkward "you can do it champ!" gestures omg I love them, sir those are my emotional support siblings.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#derek morgan#emily prentiss#david rossi#em and Derek being Spence's older siblings my beloved
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━━ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘.
౨ৎ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): spencer reid x fem!reader
౨ৎ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, established relationship, kissing, mentions of cats, & use of “baby.”
౨ৎ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer never considered himself a pet person, but after some strong convincing and an awfully cute stray, how could he say no?
౨ৎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 631
౨ৎ masterlist / navigation
spencer sat alone in your shared living room surrounded by stacks of books and case files. the faint glow of his computer screen illuminated his determined expression as he he delved into the intricate details of yet another a particularly complex case file.
the deafening silence of the room was abruptly broken when he heard the key turning in the door, followed by the sound of your voice.
"spence! you won't believe what i found on my way home from work!" you exclaimed, excitement radiating from you.
usually you’d hurry in to give your boyfriend of 3 years a kiss and a hug, but today, you had something even more important to do than that. in your arms, you cradled a small bundle wrapped in a soft blue blanket that you always kept in the back of your car incase of emergencies.
spencer turned to face you, peering over his half-frame glasses, his eyes widened as he registered the unexpected arrival.
"what is that?"
"it’s a stray cat! poor thing looked lost and hungry," you replied, your eyes sparkling with excitement and adoration for the small feline in your arms.
spencer sighed, glancing over at his computer. "baby…you know we can't keep it. we don't even know if it has any diseases or—"
before he could finish his sentence, you walk over to him on the couch and gently place the blanket on spencer’s lap, revealing the wide-eyed tabby cat within.
the cat blinked up at him, its small frame barely filling the blanket.
"it fell asleep on my way here," you explain. "i couldn't just leave it out there. look at those eyes, spencer!"
the genius profiler shifted uncomfortably as he felt the warmth of the cat against his legs. he hesitated, torn between his logical reasoning and the undeniable innocence of the small creature. "we can't just keep it. we need to take it back where you found it. stray cats can carry various diseases, like feline leukaemia virus or even possibly—”
“who cares! look at that face!” you squeal, admiring the cat as it sat beside spencer on the leather couch.
as spencer went to reply, the cat stretched out its paws lazily, purring happily. against his better judgment, spencer found himself reaching down to stroke its fur.
you watched the two with a triumphant smile, sensing a softening in his resolve.
"it’s just a temporary thing," you assured him. "we can take it to the vet, make sure it's healthy, and find it a good home. but for now, can't we let it stay here? it seems to like you."
the cat, now nestled comfortably on spencer’s lap, seemed to agree with your sentiment, letting out a soft, satisfied purr. spencer couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him as he gently scratched behind the cat's ears.
"fine," he finally conceded, reluctantly giving in to the undeniable charm of the stray. "but only temporarily. we’re taking it to the vet first thing in the morning."
you beamed, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. "thank you, spence. i knew you'd understand!”
─────────
the next morning, in your shared bed, you turned to your side and saw the beloved stray cat nestled comfortably on spencer’s bare chest, purring softly. a smile tugged at your lips as you watched the peaceful scene, realizing that when spencer woke up and saw that, he couldn’t possibly rehome the innocent feline that seemed to like him so much.
eventually, you did manage to convince spencer to let the cat stay for another week, with the promise you would take it to the vet and make sure it was healthy. but before long, one week became two, then three. eventually—that small kitten ended up being a permanent part of your relationship, and a permanent resident in your shared apartment.
౨ৎ 𝐚/𝐧: the idea of sharing a pet with spencer lives in my head rent free. life is so unfair, why isn’t he real!
#criminal minds#romance#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#fluff#criminal minds smut#matthew gray gubler
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my mental health ✅ = more gay fanfiction
mental health bad ❌ = laying in bed sad
even if I’m sad or depressed rn, im more stable than I was last year by far, so depression goes to creativity instead of sleep
#billy hargrove#steve harrington#eddie munson#supernatural#dean winchester#strangers things#peter parker x reader#criminal minds#spence reid#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson deserved better#steve harrington my beloved#billy hargrove my beloved#major depressive disorder#mentally unstable#mental health#ssri#antipsychotics
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