PORNSTAR ★
PORNSTAR ★
spencer reid
summary; struggling under the weight of student debt and barely scraping by on a minimum-wage job, Y/N is desperate for a way out. When an old college friend sends her a link to an unusual job posting—camera operator for a top-tier adult entertainment studio—she hesitates but ultimately applies. The promise of competitive pay and discretion is too good to ignore.
She’s even more surprised to meet Spencer Reid, a nervous and awkward man who she initially assumes is part of the camera crew. Spencer’s stammering and shy demeanour put her at ease, but when she learns he’s not behind the camera but the star in front of it, her world is turned upside down.
cw; 18+ mdni, pornstar!spencer, camera crew!reader, spencer is not straight (neither is the reader), face-fucking, doggy, unprotected p in v, masturbation (f), spencer is still a sweetheart, bodily fluids, cum swallowing, dom!spencer but also dom!reader, reader is not very good at her job to be honest, "good boy", unprofessional relationships, FILTHY NASTY, praise, finger sucking, sub!spencer 🤭, handjobs, "slut", overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), threesome (mmf), filming for porn, whiny spencer, oral (m. receiving), pure filth, cowgirl, cumming inside, slight aftercare, pretty much fade to black
an; lots of love from beyond the grave, im still very ill. i hope you all enjoy this, please do not mind the spelling mistakes! i tried my best to proofread in my current state 😭
wc; 8k
The sharp, acrid smell of burnt coffee weaves through your tiny apartment, clinging to the fabric of your couch and the cluttered corners of the room. It lingers in the air, an unshakable reminder of your life’s current state: stagnant, suffocating, and just a little bitter.
You sit at the wobbly kitchen table, staring at your laptop screen like it holds the secrets to the universe. Instead, it shows a spreadsheet that hasn’t changed in weeks, no matter how many times you open it, no matter how hard you will the numbers at the bottom to magically disappear. $89,563.47.
That figure is more than a debt. It’s an anvil crushing your chest, a constant shadow in the corners of your mind. It’s the dream-crusher, the thing that keeps you up at night, whispering that you’ll never escape. With your minimum-wage job barely covering rent and bills stacking higher every day, every road out seems endless and uphill.
You exhale shakily, pushing your chipped coffee mug to the side as frustration wells up in your chest. The universe, it seems, has no plans to cut you a break. You let your head fall into your hands, fingers pressing against your temples.
And then, out of nowhere, a soft ding pulls you from your spiral.
Your phone lights up on the table, screen glowing with a notification. It’s from an old college friend—a name you haven’t thought about in over a year, someone who faded from your life the moment you both graduated.
“If you’re desperate enough… this is worth a shot.”
The message is short, cryptic, and followed by a link.
You hesitate, thumb hovering above the screen as your mind races. It could be a joke. Or a scam. But the weight of your desperation gnaws at your common sense. Against better judgment, curiosity wins out.
The link opens to a job posting.
“Camera Operator Needed for Top-Tier Adult Entertainment Studio. Competitive Pay. No Experience Necessary.”
You blink at the words, half expecting the screen to vanish in a puff of smoke. It doesn’t. Your first instinct is to laugh, a sharp, incredulous sound bubbling in your throat. But then, you see the salary.
Your breath catches in your chest. The number is real. The kind of real that could actually change things. A few months, maybe a year, and you could obliterate a chunk of that debt.
You sit back in your chair, the idea burrowing into your mind like a persistent whisper. It’s insane. Ridiculous. But it’s also tempting. One word, bold and unyielding, flashes on the screen: Discreetly.
You read it again and again, the weight of it heavy in your chest. That’s the catch, isn’t it? The only thing holding you back.
By the time dawn filters through your dingy curtains, your application is sent.
The sleek office building feels completely at odds with what you imagined. Its polished floors and glass panels scream corporate professionalism, not… this. Even the receptionist greeted you like you were interviewing for a finance job, her tone cool and efficient.
Now, you sit in the waiting area, hands folded tightly in your lap. The quiet hum of productivity around you is unnerving, and your pulse drums in your ears.
When the door finally opens, you glance up.
A man approaches you, clutching a clipboard. He’s taller than you expected, with a mop of brown hair that looks like it has a mind of its own. His glasses sit slightly askew on his nose, and he exudes an awkward kind of energy—nervous but strangely endearing.
“Y/N?” he asks, voice soft and hesitant, with just the slightest upward lilt.
“That’s me,” you reply, standing and smoothing the wrinkles from your shirt.
“Great! Um, I’m Spencer Reid. I’ll be showing you around today.”
You blink at him, caught slightly off guard. This is Spencer Reid? His name had been listed in the email, but somehow, you’d pictured someone… different. More polished, more self-assured. Less professor who forgot his lecture notes.
“Nice to meet you,” you say, smiling politely.
He nods quickly, adjusting the clipboard in his hands. “Yeah, uh, you too. So, um, if you’ll just follow me, I’ll… show you around.”
Spencer leads you through the maze-like studio, his steps hurried yet deliberate. The place is a whirlwind of activity—bright lights overhead, cameras perched on sturdy tripods, people buzzing with purpose.
As you follow him, he rattles off bits of information about the space, gesturing to equipment and rattling through explanations. His sentences stumble over themselves, his words tumbling out in fits and starts like he’s rushing to get them all out before they escape him.
“So, what do you do here?” you ask, trying to break the tension.
Spencer hesitates, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Oh, um, I work… mostly in front of the camera. But I, uh, know how the equipment works too, so I can help. If you have questions. About cameras. Or lights. Or… yeah.”
You suppress a grin at his stammering, chalking it up to an attempt to make you feel at ease. He must work behind the scenes, you think.
Maybe he interviews the actors or films promotional material. He doesn’t strike you as someone who could handle the spotlight. The thought settles you. At least he’s not intimidating.
The director greets you with a curt nod as Spencer leads you to the main set. Before you can take in your surroundings, Spencer slips away for a moment, leaving you to absorb the controlled chaos around you.
When he reappears, your jaw nearly drops.
Gone are the glasses and sweater vest. Instead, he’s wearing a tailored button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal toned forearms. His hair is neatly tousled, his posture more confident, though there’s still a faint awkwardness clinging to him.
You blink, struggling to reconcile this Spencer with the nervous man who had stumbled over his words minutes ago. And then it hits you like a freight train. He’s not part of the crew. He’s not here to run the cameras or adjust the lights.
He’s the talent.
Your mind scrambles to process the revelation as you watch him step onto the set, chatting easily with the director. Someone hands him a script, and he scans it with an easy familiarity before nodding in agreement.
Meanwhile, you’re standing frozen, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing.
“Y/N, you ready?”
The director’s voice snaps you back to reality. You nod stiffly, moving into position by the camera, but your gaze keeps flicking to Spencer. He glances at you once, his lips twitching into a nervous half-smile like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes everything stranger.
You grip the camera tightly, your heart pounding in your chest. You thought you were prepared for this job, but nothing could have prepared you for Spencer Reid.
You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. The scene in front of you is far more intense than you had imagined. It’s your first real day on set, and Spencer is working with one of the female talents. From this distance, all you can focus on is the way he moves—sure and confident, his hips snapping rhythmically against his co-star’s body.
You fumble with the camera settings, trying to ignore the wet, sloppy sounds of sex that fill the room. You can’t tear your gaze away from Spencer’s cock, slipping in and out of her pussy like a well-oiled machine. Her hands clawing at his back as she gasps around his cock when he pulls out to force it in her mouth.
He threads a hand through her hair, the movement almost… tender. As tender as you can be for bruising the back of someone’s throat, anyway. She looks up at him, a smile on her lips, before he presses his cock to the back of her throat and lets her work him over. His face tightening, lips curling up into a smirk as she brings a hand up to hold what she can’t fit in her mouth.
Your stomach tightens at the sight of them together. You’re not sure if you should be so… invested in this. But it’s hard to tear your eyes away when he moves like that. You can’t stop watching.
“Focus on the face,” the director’s voice rings out. “We need her face. We need reactions.”
Your head jerks up, camera lens refocusing on the woman’s expression. It takes every ounce of your control to keep it steady and ignore the fact that Spencer is still balls-deep down her throat. It’s surprisingly easy to tune out, at least, until he flips her over, pinning her face-down to the bed. His cock pummeling into the woman from behind, her head turned to the side with glossy lips and tear-stricken eyes.
Spencer leans down, then, and you watch as he murmurs something in the woman’s ear, something you can’t quite hear. Her response is immediate—she gasps, her eyes going wide before her lips stretch into a perfect O. Her fingers dig into Spencer’s back as his thrusts become more frantic, and then he’s groaning, hips slamming against hers as he fills her with his cum.
The moment he finishes, the spell is broken. The camera drops to your side, and you breathe for what feels like the first time since the scene began. The director calls cut, and Spencer pulls out slowly, being careful of the woman underneath him, a small smile on his face as he reaches down to help her stand on shaky legs. He glances over, and for just a moment, his eyes lock on yours before he turns away to clean up. It’s stupid. It shouldn’t mean anything.
But… you can’t help the fluttering in your chest at the realisation that he was looking at you, even if only for a second. You try not to think about it too much as the day goes on, focusing instead on your job and taking in the sights and sounds around you.
It’s far more fascinating than you anticipated—watching the director’s decisions play out, watching the actors navigate their roles with ease.
But then, as the afternoon wears on, Spencer appears by your side again. He’s back in the clothes from this morning, and the awkward, shy energy has returned in full force.
“So, uh, you get a lunch break. And um, I was wondering… if maybe you wanted to grab something together. If you’re not busy. I mean, it’s okay if you are. I just…” His gaze darts to the side, voice trailing off. “I figured maybe we could talk more about your job, make sure you know everything you need.”
You blink at him. “You don’t have to do that,” you tell him. “I’ll be fine.”
Spencer shifts on his feet, looking slightly disappointed. But he nods anyway, turning to leave.
“Wait.”
The word slips out of you before you can catch it. Spencer looks over, eyes brightening ever so slightly. “Yeah?”
“Lunch sounds… nice.” Your voice is soft, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him as you say it.
When you finally meet his gaze, it’s the most natural thing in the world to see his lips curve into a small, shy smile.
Spencer Reid is a walking contradiction.
On camera, he’s a vision of dominance and raw confidence—a sex god, to put it bluntly. Every movement he makes is purposeful, controlled, and exudes a confidence that seems almost unnatural. But off-screen? He’s a different person entirely. Awkward, shy, and endearing in ways you hadn’t expected. He stammers, blushes, and struggles to find the right words in nearly every conversation. But every time he does, it only makes you smile. It’s impossible not to be drawn to him.
You sit across from him in a small café just a few blocks from the studio, the warmth of your coffee mug grounding you. The café is quiet, a peaceful haven far from the chaos of the city, where the sounds of honking horns and chatter fade into the background, leaving only the soft hum of conversation and clinking cups.
“So,” Spencer begins, his voice still soft and a little unsure, “how do you like the job so far?”
“It’s… interesting,” you reply, a laugh bubbling up.
“Good interesting or bad interesting?”
You chuckle and shake your head. “It’s just… not at all what I expected. The studio, I mean. It’s so professional. Like any other office.”
Spencer nods, the nervous tension in his posture easing slightly. “Yeah, it really is. Most people think it’s all…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “They think it’s just… sex all the time, you know?”
You snort at the absurdity of it. “Definitely not.”
The thought of Spencer—the shy, uncertain man in front of you—being the confident, sexual force he is on camera is hard to reconcile. You can’t imagine him ever making the first move with anyone. It seems almost… impossible.
“We have contracts with each other,” Spencer continues. “And there are all kinds of protocols to follow for the scenes. It’s actually pretty strict.”
“That makes sense,” you reply. “I guess I never really thought about it like that.”
Spencer shrugs, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “A lot of people don’t. It’s weird, I know, but… it’s still work. And if anything goes wrong…” He trails off, his expression growing darker.
A sudden curiosity prickles in you, but you don’t push for answers. Instead, you ask, “How did you end up doing this?”
He scrunches up his nose, looking almost embarrassed. “It’s a long story, but… my friend convinced me to try out once. And then I just… liked it.”
A small smile tugs at your lips. The image of someone convincing Spencer to do something so bold is almost too perfect. It’s exactly the kind of thing you could picture him doing—reluctantly agreeing, then discovering something unexpected about himself.
“I can’t really imagine that,” you say, your laugh light and teasing. Spencer blushes, his cheeks tinting pink as he shifts uncomfortably.
“What, you think I’m too shy for something like this?”
You nod, not hesitating for a moment. “Maybe just a little bit.”
“Yeah,” he admits softly, “I guess I am. I’ve gotten pretty good at switching it off when I’m being filmed. But in my day-to-day life… it’s like I can’t move past it.”
The words linger in the air between you, a strange kind of tension rising. You can’t help but wonder what else he’s been talked into. But before you can say anything, the door of the café chimes as a new customer enters. Spencer glances at the clock, his expression shifting into a look of reluctant understanding.
“I’m sorry,” he says, standing up. “We should get back. But hey, maybe we can grab lunch again tomorrow?”
You smile up at him, your heart beating just a little faster. “Sure.”
For a moment, you think he might say something else, but instead, he simply nods and turns to leave. You watch him walk away, a quiet disappointment settling in your chest. It’s not what you wanted—not exactly—but there’s something about Spencer Reid that pulls you in, something you can’t quite place.
Maybe it’s the awkward energy he exudes, the way he fumbles over words yet still manages to be endearing. Maybe it’s the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, or the way he transforms so seamlessly into the confident, dominant figure on camera. Whatever it is, you want more.
When you get home that evening, your mind keeps wandering back to Spencer. His eyes, his smile, the way his cock had moved inside his co-star. You replay the scene in your head again and again until it feels like you can almost hear the sounds of sex, almost smell his cologne wafting in the air.
It takes you a while to realise your hand has wandered down your body, fingers slipping between your legs as you imagine Spencer touching you.
The thought sends a thrill through you. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve gotten off thinking about someone, but… this feels different. This feels real.
You press a finger to your clit, applying a little pressure. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but it’s better than nothing. The image of Spencer’s face appears in your mind, his lips twisting into a pained expression as he comes. You imagine him over you instead of his co-star, his cock sinking into your pussy, his hands gripping your hips as he fucks you.
Your muscles clench at the thought, and a wave of desire surges through you. Your hand moves faster, fingers pressing and rubbing over your clit. You picture Spencer’s lips on yours, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks. You imagine the way his tongue would feel on you, the way his mouth would taste if he kissed you.
You come quickly, the pleasure overwhelming and swift. You barely have time to process it before the orgasm hits you, your body quaking as you climax.
When you open your eyes, your gaze falls on the ceiling. You feel dazed and far away, like you’ve left your body behind for a minute. It takes a while to come back to reality, to process what just happened.
But as you do, a sudden guilt creeps in. It’s not like this is something you’d never done before. But with Spencer Reid… it feels different.
When you wake up the next morning, you’re groggy, still caught in the afterglow of last night. It takes a few moments to remember the job, and another few to get out of bed.
As you shower, you can’t stop thinking of Spencer. The image of him on camera yesterday keeps popping up in your mind—his hips pumping between the woman’s legs, his fingers digging into her hips as he thrusts. And when he flipped her over… fuck. You can’t believe how much that got you going.
The way his cock disappeared into her, the sound of her gasps as he pounded into her.
You think of him behind you, his cock filling you, the length of him stretching your walls as he thrusts in and out of your body. The feel of his hands on your hips, holding you steady for his pleasure.
The image makes you gasp, and a wave of heat surges through you.
But as you stand there, water pouring down your body, another image pops up in your mind. Spencer across from you at the café, his cheeks flushing pink as he talks to you. His eyes brightening when you ask him a question, his smile growing ever so slightly as he answers.
You can’t help but be drawn to the contrast. Part of you wants to know more about his confidence on camera, to see what it’s like up close. Part of you just wants to pull the awkward, shy version closer and tell him that everything is okay.
There’s a lot you don’t know about Spencer Reid. But one thing is for sure.
You want more.
It takes a lot longer than usual to get ready for work, your mind wandering to all the possibilities. When you arrive, you head straight to the set, a strange mix of nerves and anticipation churning in you. It takes you a while to spot Spencer, and when you do, he’s chatting with the director.
It’s different now, somehow, seeing him in this space. He’s still awkward, still shy, but there’s an air of confidence around him that you didn’t notice before. You wonder what it would be like to be his co-star on camera. What it would be like to feel his hands on you.
The thought is a little startling, but you can’t deny it.
You watch as Spencer finishes speaking with the director, then turns towards you. His steps falter as he catches your gaze, and for a moment, it looks like he might change direction entirely. But then he pulls his glasses off, setting them down on a table near the door. Slipping his button-up over his head, leaving him in nothing but dress pants and an undershirt. He moves slowly, each action deliberate, and his gaze lingers on yours for a moment before he ducks into a nearby room.
When he comes back, his shirt is gone, and all that remains is smooth skin. You try not to stare, but your gaze tracks him anyway, watching as he makes his way to the main set. When he passes you, he catches your eyes again, giving you the tiniest smile.
You try not to wonder what that means, but it’s hard to focus on anything else.
When the director calls places, Spencer steps into position next to the female lead, and you take your spot behind the camera. As you adjust the settings, you try not to think too much of yesterday’s scene, but it’s impossible. The image of Spencer fucking his co-star from behind is still etched in your mind.
The director calls action, and Spencer launches himself at the woman, his mouth descending on hers. But as he kisses her, another man steps into view, and your gaze darts towards him.
He’s not as tall as Spencer, but his body is toned and well-defined, his cock already hard. He pushes Spencer against the woman, then starts to strip his pants off.
Your cheeks flush at the sight, and your mind struggles to make sense of what you’re watching. This isn’t how you imagined it would go, not at all.
Spencer presses his body against the woman’s, his lips moving against hers. He shifts her slightly, spreading her legs so the other man can take position between them.
You fumble with the camera for a moment before your gaze returns to the action. The sight of them all together is almost surreal. The other man slips his cock into the woman’s pussy, starting up a slow rhythm. He leans forward, and Spencer’s mouth drops to his neck, sucking a bruise onto his skin.
The woman gasps, pushing her hips back against the other man’s cock. Spencer shifts her again, and this time, he pulls away slightly, his mouth drifting lower on the other man’s chest. He sucks another mark onto his nipple, and you watch as his tongue teases over it for a moment.
Spencer pulls back then, his eyes darting towards you, before he glances down at the woman. He doesn’t need to say anything—his intention is clear. And without hesitation, the woman turns onto her hands and knees, the other man pulling out and flipping her over in one swift motion.
You shift the camera to capture the new angle, watching as Spencer moves behind the woman and slides his cock into her pussy. The other man moves with him, his hand wrapping around the woman’s neck as he slides his own cock inside her mouth.
The sight of them both fucking her is almost overwhelming. Spencer’s hand clamps down on the woman’s hip, his thrusts growing more frantic as he pounds into her from behind. The other man’s fingers dig into her hair, holding her still as he fucks her mouth. And when they both pause, you feel yourself holding your breath in anticipation.
Then Spencer’s mouth descends on the other man’s, and everything freezes. The sound of their kissing is loud and wet, and you try to remember to breathe, to remember to keep filming as they move together.
The camera shakes in your hands as you adjust it, trying to capture all three of them. You move closer, trying to take in everything at once. The sight of Spencer fucking the woman, of the other man fucking her mouth, of the three of them together. It’s almost too much to take in.
Spencer’s hand drifts down the woman’s back, then reaches up to tangle in her hair. He pulls her head back, and you can only imagine the sensation of his cock stretching her walls as he fucks into her. The other man pulls out of her mouth, then, and Spencer guides her down to take his cock instead.
The image sends a wave of lust through you. You can feel your pussy clenching at the thought of Spencer fucking her like this, at the thought of feeling him inside you. A sudden need surges in you, and before you can stop yourself, you whisper, “Fuck.”
The word is quiet, but it echoes in the room. Spencer’s eyes dart to yours, a look of surprise crossing his face. He falters for a moment, then continues, his hand reaching up to guide the woman’s head back and forth on the other man’s cock.
But his eyes remain locked on yours. And when you don’t look away, he starts to fuck the woman harder, his hips thrusting against her ass.
You’re frozen, unable to move. The camera is forgotten in your hands, your gaze fixed on Spencer as he fucks the woman in front of you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
The sound of his breathing fills the air, along with the sound of the woman’s gasps as he pumps into her. Then, without warning, he pulls out, his cock dripping with cum and precum.
He reaches for her, his mouth crashing down on hers as he pushes her back onto the mattress. The other man positions himself above her, and Spencer moves to kneel at her head. Then Spencer’s lips drop to the woman’s clit, and your gaze is drawn to the sight of him eating her out.
He sucks and licks at her pussy, his mouth moving over her clit. The other man groans, his hips starting up a slow rhythm as he fucks into her mouth. Spencer’s fingers move to her tits, playing with her nipples as he continues to eat her out with fervour.
The sounds of their fucking fill the air—the sound of the woman gasping, of Spencer moaning, of the other man’s breathing growing more rapid. You’re frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from Spencer as he eats her out. He pauses for a moment to pull back and look at you, then his lips drop back down between her legs.
It’s hard not to imagine him like this over you—his mouth moving between your legs, his tongue teasing over your clit.
Your pussy clenches at the thought, and you realize you’re soaked. The sound of your own breathing echoes in your ears, and you try not to look at Spencer, but you can’t help it. He glances up at you, his eyes locking on yours.
The connection between you is sudden and intense. You want to do something, to say something, but before you can, the other man groans. His hips start to pump harder, and Spencer moves back, his body positioning between the woman’s thighs.
His cock is still hard, still wet with precum from fucking her before. He positions himself against her pussy, then pushes in, his body shuddering as he sinks inside her.
The sight of him fucking the woman is almost too much. His thrusts are slow and deliberate at first, but soon he’s pounding into her, his cock moving in and out of her pussy in quick, slick thrusts. His hand reaches down to play with her clit, and her gasps grow more frantic as he rubs her towards climax.
The air is thick with tension, your breath coming in quick gasps as you watch them fuck. You can barely hold the camera still, your fingers shaking with anticipation.
The woman’s gasps turn into a cry, and she starts to come. Her pussy clenches around Spencer’s cock, and his body shudders with pleasure. The other man grunts, his cock erupting in cum as he shoots onto the woman’s chest. And Spencer fucks her through her orgasm, his cock moving faster and faster until he comes with a cry, his cum spilling into the condom.
You don’t realize you’ve stopped filming until it’s all over. The camera hangs in your hand, forgotten as your gaze lingers on Spencer.
It takes him a moment to catch his breath. When he does, his eyes flicker towards yours, Spencer smiles, then ducks into the bathroom. He emerges a few minutes later with a towel around his neck and his glasses back in place. You try not to laugh at the sight—he still looks like the same awkward nerdy boy from before. But now, when you look at him, you can’t forget the image of him fucking a woman from behind, his cock sliding in and out of her as he sucked bruises into another man’s neck.
And you can’t help but wonder how it would feel to have him do that to you.
It’s hard to get any work done for the rest of the day. Your mind keeps wandering back to Spencer, to his mouth moving on the woman, to his cock fucking her from behind.
When it’s finally time to leave, you grab your bag and head towards the door. But before you make it, a hand reaches out, tugging you into a dressing room.
You stumble as you enter, nearly crashing into the person who pulled you in. But when you turn around, you realize it’s Spencer.
His cheeks flush a deep red, and he shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I just… wanted to talk to you.”
A small laugh escapes you, and you smile at him. “It’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Then you add, “I guess this is your dressing room?”
He nods, looking around. “Yeah,” he says, “They gave me my own room.”
It’s not hard to see why. The room is small, but there’s enough space for a bed and a bathroom, and there’s a table near the door with a couple outfits laid out on it. You move towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress as you look around.
Spencer takes a seat next to you, his fingers picking at a loose thread on the bedspread. The silence grows thick between you, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, it feels strangely intimate.
You lean back, shifting your body slightly so your thigh is brushing against his. He looks up at the movement, his cheeks flushing again.
A smile plays across your lips. “Did you like me watching you fuck her?” you ask.
Spencer shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering towards yours for just a moment. “Yes,” he says finally, his voice low. “I really liked it.”
You lean in then, your shoulder brushing against his. “You wanted to fuck me instead, didn’t you?”
Spencer swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Yes.”
You smile at him, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. He shivers at the touch, and a little thrill of power shoots through you. “You were really hot today.”
He ducks his head at the words, but you can still hear a whisper of “thank you” from him.
You move closer, your arm winding around his shoulders and pulling him against you. His head drops to your shoulder, and you shift slightly, letting your lips brush against his ear.
“I really liked watching you,” you say, your voice soft and low. “Watching you eat her out, watching you fuck her like that. I wanted to be underneath you.”
Spencer swallows again, his breathing growing shallow. His hands move to your thighs, squeezing your legs slightly.
“I wanted to feel you inside me,” you continue, “To feel your cock stretching me open. I bet you’d fuck me hard, wouldn’t you?”
He moans at the words, his fingers tightening on your thigh. You can feel his body shudder against yours, and the knowledge that you’re turning him on like this is intoxicating.
“Do you want to fuck me?” you ask.
He groans again, and this time there’s a yes, yes, please.
You reach up, running your fingers through his hair. “I want you to touch yourself while you think of me,” you say. “While you think of me underneath you, of your cock sliding into me.”
He moans, and you can feel his cock growing hard against your thigh. “And if you’re good,” you add, “Maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”
Spencer groans, and his hips push forward slightly. You can feel him growing more aroused, and for a moment you’re tempted to give in and let him fuck you now.
But then you remember the quiet, nervous boy who took forever to approach you at the café. And the idea that he’d let you control him like this—both in front of the camera and in private—is too enticing to ignore.
You lean back, taking your hand off him. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even let you cum inside me.”
Spencer gasps, his breath catching in his throat.
His eyes drop to yours, filled with a desire. You smile back at him, but you know this isn’t over yet.
“Tell me again,” you say. “Tell me what I want to hear.”
He swallows, and you can see the hesitation in his eyes. “Please,” he says finally. “Let me touch you. Please let me fuck you.”
The words send a rush of power through you, and you have to work to keep from smiling. “Keep begging,” you say instead.
Spencer nods, his eyes wide. “Please let me fuck you,” he says again. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
He’s growing more desperate by the second, his fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt tightly. You can hear the whine in his voice now, and you wonder how long he can hold out.
“Please,” he says again.
You watch him for a moment, studying him. He’s looking more and more desperate by the second. You wonder how much it would take to push him over the edge.
“You have to promise to do whatever I say,” you say finally. “Whenever I tell you to.”
Spencer nods so fast it’s almost funny. “Anything,” he says. “Whatever you want.”
A thrill of excitement shoots through you, and for a moment, you forget about anything other than the power he’s giving you. You could make him do anything—make him get on his hands and knees and beg for permission to touch you. Make him eat you out until you’re screaming and dripping with cum, and not let him stop until you’re satisfied. Make him fuck you until you can’t walk straight, until you’re sore and aching from taking his cock.
You shiver at the thought, your pussy growing slick with arousal. But you don’t stop, not yet. You reach for him, taking his face in your hands and making him look at you.
“You’re mine,” you say. “Do you understand?”
He nods again, his breath coming in quick pants. “Yes,” he gasps. “Whatever you want.” Then he adds, “Please.” The word is a moan, filled with desperation and need. “Please, fuck me.”
Your fingers tighten on his jaw, and you lean in closer. “Say it again,” you say.
He nods, his eyes growing desperate. “Please fuck me,” he says again, his voice a low whine. “I need it.”
A soft laugh escapes you, and you move closer to him, your lips brushing against his forehead. “I love the way you beg,” you say. “It makes me so wet.”
He shivers at the words, and you can hear the breath hitch in his throat.
“I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” he says. “To feel you fuck me until I’m raw.” He pauses, then adds, “Until I can’t take it anymore.”
The words are almost too much. You can feel your own arousal growing, your pussy aching with the need to be fucked.
“Maybe,” you say, “If you’re good enough, I’ll let you.”
Spencer whines at the words, his body shaking slightly. You lean in, your mouth moving to his neck. “Will that be enough?” you ask.
“Yes,” he gasps, his fingers clenching against your thighs. “Whatever you want. Just please let me fuck you.” The words are a moan now, filled with need.
The word sends a rush of arousal through you, and before he can say anything else, you pull back. “Good boy,” you say softly.
His fingers tighten on your leg, but he doesn’t say anything.
You smile, reaching for his glasses and pulling them off his face. “Get on your hands and knees,” you say then.
Spencer nods, moving to do what you said. You watch as he gets into position, his hands and knees on the mattress, his ass in the air. You move behind him, running your fingers over his hips, teasing his skin.
“Spread your legs,” you say. “I want to see how desperate you are for my cunt.”
Spencer does as he’s told, spreading his legs for you. And you can’t help the groan that escapes you at the sight. His cock is already leaking with precum, and you know he’s aching to be touched. To be fucked. To have your pussy wrapped around him, to feel him sink inside you until he’s balls deep.
The thought sends a rush of lust through you, and you lean forward, running your hands over his back. You move up to his shoulders, then run your fingers down his arms. When you get to his hands, you reach for the lube on the table.
“Get yourself nice and wet for me, baby,” you say, squeezing out a generous amount on his palms.
He does as he’s told. And when he looks back at you, you nod to his cock. “Touch yourself,” you say. “Show me how much you want to be inside me.”
He nods, and without hesitation, he reaches for his cock, his hand wrapping around it. You watch for a moment as he strokes himself, his movements slow at first. But it doesn’t take long for his hips to start pumping, his hand moving faster and faster as he strokes.
“Mmm,” you say, smiling at the sight. “I like that.”
Spencer moans, but he keeps going, his hand pumping his cock until he’s fucking his fist. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and you can’t help your own arousal from growing. Your pussy is slick with need, and all it would take is one touch from his hand and you’d be cumming.
You shift closer to him, reaching out to run your fingers over the small of his back. Spencer gasps, his hips stuttering for a moment. But then he continues, his hand stroking his cock until it’s almost too much.
“Can you cum like this for me?” you ask.
The words are enough to push him over the edge. His hips thrust into his hand, and you can hear his breathing grow ragged. “Yes,” he whines. “God, yes.”
A smile plays on your lips. “Then do it,” you say. “Cum for me.”
He cries out at the words, his cock pulsing in his hand as he cums. The sound of his orgasm fills the room, and for a moment all you can do is watch him in wonder.
When he’s finished, he collapses back against you, his body relaxing against yours. You wrap your arms around him, holding him to your chest as you smile.
“Good boy,” you say. “Just like that.”
And when Spencer nods, you can’t help but feel a rush of pride at the thought of your obedient little slut. You’ll break him in slowly—letting him touch you and taste you until he’s desperate for your pussy. And then, when you’re ready, you’ll let him fuck you.
And once he has your pussy, he’ll never let go. He’ll be obsessed with it, with the feeling of being inside you. With the way your muscles clench around him, with the way your cunt grips him tight as he fucks into you. With the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his hips, with the way your pussy milks him until he cums deep inside you. With the sound of your moans as he fucks you until you’re aching and raw. With the taste of your pussy on his tongue as he eats you out until you cum on his face.
Spencer whimpers against you, and you run a hand through his hair, petting him. “Shhh,” you say. “That was good. You’re doing so well.”
He moans against you, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods, leaning back against your chest.
You smile, your fingers moving to his hair again. “There’s my good little slut,” you say.
He groans at the words, his breathing growing faster. You move your hand to his cock, running your fingers along the length. “Look how hard you are,” you say, stroking him lightly.
Spencer moans again, and you can feel him shudder against you. “Are you ready for more?” you ask.
“Yes, please,” he gasps.
You smile at the desperation in his voice. You pull back, looking down at him as you run your finger along his lips. “Open your mouth,” you say.
He does as he’s been told, and you push your finger between his lips until he sucks it into his mouth. You pull your finger away, smiling at him. Then you reach for a condom, and stand up. “Take off your clothes,” you tell him, tearing open the package.
Spencer’s eyes flicker to yours, but he moves quickly to comply, pulling off his pants and shirt until he’s naked. You take a moment to study him, to study the way his cock is hard for you, the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes.
Then you reach for him, guiding him back onto the bed. You push him down, spreading his legs as you move between them. He whimpers as you pull his thighs up, and for a moment, all you can do is look at him like this.
He’s beautiful—spread out on the bed for you, his thighs spread wide and his cock hard. His eyes are glazed with lust, and he’s breathing hard. You can see the way he’s shaking slightly, and you know how much he wants to be inside you.
A soft smile plays across your lips, and you reach for your clothes, pulling your skirt up around your waist. You can’t help the moan that escapes you as you sink down onto him, the feeling of his cock filling you almost too much to handle.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he gasps as you sink down further.
You moan at the words, your head dropping to his shoulder as you take his cock deeper. You can feel him stretching you, filling you until you’re almost too full to move. When you’re finally seated on his hips, you pause, looking down at the sight of his cock disappearing into you.
Spencer groans again, his hands moving to your thighs. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers. “Your cunt is so perfect.” His hands tighten on your thighs, and he pushes up into you, making you moan.
You nod, and then lean down, taking his mouth in a kiss. You move slowly at first, your hips shifting back and forth as you grind down on his cock. But it’s not long before you’re fucking him in earnest, your body riding him until you’re gasping with pleasure.
He’s so good, you realize. He feels so good inside you, better than anyone you’ve ever had. His cock is thick and full, and you can feel the way it’s stretching you until you’re aching. The knowledge that he wants you—wants to fuck you and fill you with his cum—only makes it better.
You move faster, your body grinding down on his cock as you fuck him. Spencer is moaning now, his breath hot against your ear as he groans. His hand moves to your ass, his fingers gripping tightly as he pulls you down onto him.
“Yes,” he moans. “Like that. Fuck me like that.”
You nod, your hips picking up the pace until you’re bouncing on his cock. You can feel yourself building, the pleasure growing with each thrust until it’s almost overwhelming. You cry out as you cum, your body shaking with pleasure as your pussy clenches around him.
Spencer cries out with you, his hips bucking up into you as he cums. You collapse against him as he finishes, his cock throbbing deep inside you. You stay there for a few moments, until the last tremor of pleasure fades away. Then you pull off him, reaching for a cloth to clean yourself with.
When you look back at him, he’s watching you with wide eyes. “Was that…good?” he asks finally.
You smile at him. “It was amazing,” you say, and you mean it.
Spencer smiles back at you, then nods. You can see a little blush on his cheeks, and you can tell how pleased he is with himself.
You reach for his hand, taking it in yours as you smile again. “You were perfect,” you add. “Just like I knew you’d be.”
He flushes a little more at that, but you can see how happy he is. You squeeze his hand once more, then let go. “Come on,” you say. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
You help him up, then reach for his clothes. He watches as you hand them to him, and you can still see how aroused he is.
He moves to put his pants on, but pauses when you stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “Not those,” you say. You point to the corner of the room, where you can see his boxers. “Those.”
Spencer pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering to yours. “Okay,” he says softly, and he moves to do as he’s told.
You can’t help the smile that comes to your face at the sight, at the way he obediently puts on the boxers you tell him to.
“Come here,” you say when he’s done.
He moves to you, and you take his face in your hand. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” you say.
His eyes widen at the words, but he nods. “Yes,” he says, his voice soft.
You pull him closer, your lips moving to his ear. “And what do I want?” you ask.
“To fuck me,” he whispers.
You smile at that. “And you’ll do anything I want,” you say.
“Yes,” he agrees.
You run your thumb along his jaw, smiling at the sight of him standing there in boxers and a tee-shirt, waiting to do your bidding. “Good,” you say. “My good boy.”
Spencer moans at the words, leaning into your touch. “What do you want?” he asks.
You study him for a moment, then smile again. “For now?” you say. “Nothing. Just you.” You lean in, taking his mouth in a soft kiss. “I’m so lucky to have you,” you whisper against his lips.
Spencer makes a soft noise, then kisses you back. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispers against your mouth.
You smile at that, then pull back and take his hand. You lead him to the bed, then guide him onto it. “Stay,” you tell him as you pull the covers back.
He nods, watching you as you climb in next to him. You reach for his hand, then settle back against the headboard.
“I don’t have to leave?” he asks.
“No, baby, of course not, ” you reply. “You can stay.”
You watch as a smile spreads across his face, and he leans into you, his head resting on your shoulder. You can feel his fingers tighten on yours, and the knowledge that he wants to stay with you like this—that he wants to curl up in your arms and let you comfort him—is so sweet it almost hurts.
You wrap an arm around him, then move to pull him close. “Sleep,” you tell him softly.
“You deserve it.”
He doesn’t reply, but you can feel him relaxing against you, the tension in his body easing as you hold him. He’s warm against your side, and you can smell the scent of soap and lube on him. You hold him for a moment more, then reach to turn off the light.
“Rest now,” you say. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
Spencer nods, his fingers tightening on yours one more time. Then he drifts off to sleep, and you stay with him until you fall asleep too. You dream of the next time you’ll fuck him, of the things you’ll do to him until he’s begging for your mercy.
★
More Posts from G4rvez-r3id and Others
he’s so gorg
spencer reid in 7.01
LOVER ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS
Reflections
In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst? x fluff? Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers bc i'm still on s11 lol, so sorry for inaccuracies), one time mention of suicide and rape (no details), fade to black smut so suggestive content Word count: 3,8k A/n: my own entry for #lovers1kevent ! bit different from what i usually write. didn't exactly turn out like how i had envisioned it, but i'm still very curious to hear your thoughts!
“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.” The sound of a clock striking midnight made you jump in your seat, the plastic stool screeching loudly against the cold, concrete floor. The interrogation room was filled with nothing but the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the pounding of your heartbeat. Everything in this room felt eerie: a harsh light shone down on you, irritating your eyes, and there was no escaping your reflection in the two-way mirror in front of you. You observed yourself through the glass, and to put it simply, you looked awful. The dress you were wearing was crumpled as it hung loosely on your frame, the dark circles under your eyes were noticeable from a distance, and your eyes themselves expressed no spark. They looked dimmed, with no emotion behind the colored irises. Though, that had been so for a while now.
The creak of the door jolted you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, feeling disappointment when the same agent as before walked in. He wasn’t hard on the eyes: dark skin, rolled-up sleeves that showed his muscular forearms, a neatly trimmed goatee covering his sharp jaw, and eyes that looked just as cutting as they darted over you. Maybe, in another life, you would’ve considered dating him. In a life where he didn’t suspect you of killing three men.
He stayed quiet as he made his way over to you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. He placed a folder in front of him, shoving it toward you. “Still not going to talk?”
You cleared your throat. Nevertheless, the words came out hoarse. “I have nothing to say.”
He rolled his eyes in annoyance before crossing his arms. “Do I need to remind you of your rights? You can contact a lawyer, or we can get you one.”
“I also have the right to remain silent.”
A small huff escaped his lips, and you noticed the way he clenched his fingers, as though trying to hold himself back from making a comment he’d regret.
His eyes landed back on you, glaring. “A girl like you won’t survive in prison.”
“Well, then it’s good that I’m not going to prison,” you snapped back with a small smile. You weren’t going to let him intimidate you. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet here you were.
“I’d lose the attitude if I were you because it’s not looking good.”
Before you could open your mouth to respond, he cut you off. “Open the folder.”
You inhaled deeply before obeying. You hated the way you couldn’t help the nerves from creeping in. Your hand trembled as you opened the folder. The picture that greeted you was one of three lifeless bodies slumped over each other in an empty alley. A bitter tang formed in the back of your throat, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to look back at the agent.
“Looks familiar?”
Your eyes flicked over the image again. “What exactly are you referring to?”
“The people. Do you recognize them?”
You nodded.
“I want a clear answer,” he said, his voice raised.
“Yes,” you replied, matching his tone. “We went to college together.”
There was no way you could forget them. Unfortunately. The idea that they were wiped off the face of earth gave you a strange sense of comfort. Maybe now you could find the peace you’d been looking for. The peace she was looking for.
The agent seemed relieved to have gotten an answer out of you. “And you met up with them again today. Is that right?” he queried, nodding toward the folder.
You got the hint and pulled the first picture off the pile, revealing another underneath it. It was a selfie taken by two women. You spotted yourself in the right corner by the bar, in conversation with the three men he was referring to. His gaze stayed focused on you, trying to see if you’d reveal any emotion.
“It was our college reunion. As you can see I wasn’t the only one there,” you explained.
“Multiple witnesses have told us you were the last person seen talking to them.”
You shrugged. “Is that something significant?”
“Not necessarily so,” he answered, sitting up straighter. “What is, is that you left through the emergency exit. And what makes it even more suspicious is that you left right after the victims got their drinks served.”
You gave him a blank look.
“The victims were poisoned.”
Ah.
You offered him a tight smile. “I think that’s something you need to bother the bartender about.”
“We checked him out already. The only person we can connect to this case is you.”
A silence followed. It truly didn’t seem like you’d be leaving anytime soon. You rubbed your hands down on the material of your dress, gathering courage.
“It’s an unfortunate coincidence. Like I told you, I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want anything to do with them,” you clarified, the disdain evident on your tongue.
The agent turned his head around, looking at the two-way mirror. The thought of other agents standing behind that wall, all analyzing you full of judgement, made your skin crawl.
“Seems like you’re not too fond of the men.”
You scoffed, “No one is.”
“What about Natalie Fisher?” he wondered aloud. “She seemed close to you. We found multiple pictures dating back to high school.”
Like a gust of wind, the memories came back to you. How you found Natalie standing in front of your college dorm room, smiling brightly as she introduced herself as your roommate. You instantly hit it off: sharing the same humor, the same passions. Only a year younger than you, but a carbon copy. From that day on you were inseparable.
It all came back to that one night — that one time you bailed on her, deciding studying for an upcoming exam was more important than joining her at a frat party. It was only when she called you awake in the middle of the night, her voice shaking as her words tripped over her tongue, telling you she didn’t know where she was and how she woke up in an empty alley, possibly drugged and with her clothes torn — that you knew you made the biggest mistake in your life.
You shook the thoughts away. Pursing your lips as you shrugged. “She was. I don’t know why you’re bringing her up.”
“Her report says she died two years ago from suicide. Or did you kill her as well?”
It felt like he’d knocked the breath out of you. You made a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “You’re sick,” you spat in disbelief.
“I’m sick?” He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re the one who murdered those people.”
“I didn’t murder anyone!”
The sound of your yelling reverberated off the concrete walls, the echo scaring you. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back tears as you bit your tongue. There goes your attempt at staying calm. He was playing games with your mind. You knew this was all a trick — a way to get you to admit to the crimes he was naming. And it drove you crazy that it was having an effect.
“I’m not talking to you anymore,” you muttered.
-`♡´-
Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as he looked through the glass. You’d been sitting there for three hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-six seconds, counting. He didn’t know what it was about you that made it impossible to look away. Hotch had told him to go home. Hotch was certain that they got the right unsub, and he assured him that you’d confess at some point. But he couldn’t get himself to move. To turn his head even. All he felt was a nagging guilt as he watched you being questioned by Morgan. It was a different experience to see an interrogation when he’s been in one himself. He now understood what it was like. How pressuring their questions can be, how the weight of a sentence is crushed on your shoulders, and how they keep pushing you to the point where you even start doubting your own truth.
All he could think of when he saw you was innocence. A soft, radiant white light surrounded you. You were bright even against the harshness of the room. There was no rational way to explain how he felt, only that he sensed the deepest desire to keep you safe from everything that could hurt you.
“She’s working on my nerves,” Morgan exclaimed, tension visible in his shoulders as he stomped out of the interrogation room.
“We can’t stop,” Hotch stated. “We haven’t gotten an answer out of her yet.”
Morgan let out a deep huff. “It’s clear that she did it.”
Spencer's focus was back on you. Since he’s been to prison he’s been more aligned with his feelings. His heart overpowering his mind at times.
“She’s not our unsub,” Spencer spoke up, surprising even himself with the firmness of his voice.
Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for the genius revelation he always had. But the room stayed silent.
Hotch eyed him, “What makes you say that?”
“I just know.” Spencer replied, not caring to elaborate further. He nudged Derek aside and headed for the door. “I’ll take it from here.”
He pulled the heavy metal door open, at once met with your doe eyes as you faced him. For the first time tonight, you didn’t flinch when someone entered.
Spencer had to swallow. His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, feeling overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked up close. You seemed tired, cold, yet somehow angelic.
His eyes never left yours as he made his way over to you. You held his gaze, observing him with the same intensity as he was. He carried a calm, magnetic presence, which made you feel an unexplainable urge to get closer to him.
“Are you cold?” he eventually asked, his voice gentle and considerate.
You blinked at his question, clearly not expecting it. You remembered how you were only wearing a light dress, noticing the goosebumps that had formed on your bare legs. Inevitably, you nodded.
He surprised you again by taking off his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The fabric felt heavy, enveloping you like a warm blanket.
“Thank you,” you silently mumbled, noticing a small dimple appear in his cheek.
He sat down in front of you, resting his arms on the table between you, as though compelled to get as close as possible. The moment felt intimate, your eyes locked on his tender brown ones, making the world fade around you. “I believe you.”
For a moment, you just stared at him, a frown formed on your face as you realized he wasn’t about to say more. “What?”
“I believe you,” he repeated in the same composed manner. He leaned forward even further, and it was then that you noticed you had subconsciously mirrored his movement, drawn to him like a magnetic pull.
“They suspect you, but I don’t.”
He didn’t need to rephrase his words for you to understand who he meant by them. You could almost feel the other agents’ glaring stares pressing down on you through the glass.
“Try to forget about them,” he reminded you, as if reading your thoughts. You didn’t look up to face him, instead your focus was on the proximity of your hands on the table, his finger just inches away from touching yours. Spencer noticed the look in your eyes, and moved his little finger just enough to brush against yours.
An electric shock coursed through you. Simultaneously, both of you shuddered, stunned as you saw the other wearing the same stupefied expression. Sure, it could’ve been a static shock, but something told you it was more than that. And by the look of the curly haired agent, he felt the same.
“Why don’t you?” you asked, returning to the subject. “Suspect me, I mean.”
Spencer hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “Because I know what it’s like to be in a situation like you are.” He saw the confusion written on your face, continuing his explanation. “There’s something about being in a room like this — being treated like you’re guilty before you even speak — that makes you start questioning your own truth.”
Questions flooded your mind, but you chose not to press further. You had someone who believed you, you weren’t going to ruin that opportunity by being too curious.
“So, what now?” your voice sounded more sure, hopeful even.
“Usually, we ask people if they’re willing to take a polygraph exam,” he explained. “It can also be referred to as a lie detector test, even though that term is often used incorrectly. A professional will ask a series of questions, and as you answer, the device will measure multiple psychological indicators which are associated with lying, like your blood pressure and pulse. I know it can sound scary, but in cases like these — when there’s no clear evidence — it might be the only thing keeping you from going to prison.”
His words hit you hard, though the gleam in his eyes remained soft. You inhaled deeply before nodding. “I’ll do it.”
-`♡´-
“She’s telling the truth.”
You hadn’t known pure relief until now. Your eyes closed, trying to stop the flood of emotions from flowing in when the pressure cuffs and sensors were being removed from your arms and hands. You didn’t know whether to cry or to cheer, but when you opened your eyes and saw Spencer — who had introduced himself as Dr. Reid, smiling at you, you were sure everything would turn out okay.
“Impossible,” the agent who questioned you earlier huffed under his breath.
The chief who had introduced himself as Aaron Hotchner walked up to you. “For now you’re free to go. However, this case isn’t closed yet. You’ll remain our primary suspect until we find more proof.”
The sharpness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. You kept quiet as he and the other agents left the room, leaving you alone with Dr. Reid.
He closed the distance between you two, standing near enough that he could see all the details on your face. He fought the urge to tuck the loose strings of hair behind your ear, to hold you and tell you that you were okay.
“You did really well,” he said with a soft smile. “Your heartbeat stayed on an average of 70 beats per minute, only going up to 86 once, which is still in the normal range.”
“Did you peek at the monitor?” you jokingly teased.
“I- uh, no. I just counted.” Spencer shyly admitted, earning a playful grin from you. You took his hand in yours, his palm slightly sweaty, as if he was nervous about the outcome too. Then you placed his hand on your chest, right where your heart was. “What about now? Higher than average?”
He swallowed, a blush creeping up his neck. “95 beats per minute.”
The tension between you was palpable, though his touch felt comforting. Your hand was placed over his, and you could both feel the way your heartbeat steadily decreased as you brushed your fingers soothingly over his.
“Can I drive you home?” Spencer offered.
You bit your lip in an effort to hide your grin, but then the corners of your mouth slightly dropped. “I don’t really have a place to stay.”
His brows lifted in surprise, but an empathetic twinkle appeared in his bambi eyes. “You could stay at my place.”
Spencer wasn’t sure why the words came out, but he meant them. He could practically hear the voices of his team telling him to not get involved with someone on a case, let alone a potential suspect. But it wasn’t like he was the first person to do so. And he wouldn’t waste the opportunity of getting closer to you. Maybe if he could get to know you better, if he could make you comfortable enough to open up to him, he could prove to everyone that you were innocent. Because deep down, he knew you were.
-`♡´-
“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing, man?” Morgan called out, rushing after Spencer, who had just entered the bullpen to grab his satchel bag before heading out with you.
“Hotch told me I could go home,” he hastily replied, stuffing his papers into his bag.
“Yeah, two hours ago. Before you decided to flirt with a suspect,” he exclaimed in frustration.
“I didn’t flirt with her,” Spencer recounted under his breath.
Morgan let out a dry laugh. “Everyone saw what went on in that room, Reid,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I would’ve least expected this from someone like you.”
“Someone like me doesn’t exist anymore, Derek,” Spencer snapped, a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m not who I was before prison, and neither will I ever be that person again. However, I can help her from turning into someone like me. So, if you don’t mind, I am leaving now.”
He left Morgan at a loss of words as he walked off. You were waiting on him; your posture stiffened as you wrapped his jacket closer around you. Gently, Spencer threaded his fingers through yours and guided you to the elevator.
Once inside, Spencer pressed the button to the ground floor, then leaned his head back to the wall, letting out a fatigued sigh.
“I am sorry for causing you trouble,” you apologized, nervously picking at the fabric of his jacket that hung loosely over your arms.
His gaze softened, and he shook his head before he reached out to hold your hand once more. It was ironic how he longed for your grounding touch. “You’re not causing me any trouble. I’m sorry for the way they’re treating you. It’s our job to be cautious, to not easily trust someone.”
You squeezed his hand. “But you trust me,” you stated, though it came out more as a question, waiting for confirmation.
His other hand lifted up to touch your cheek, and his heart warmed at how you instinctively leaned into his touch. “I do.”
You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Can you prove it to me?”
He responded with a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup your face in his large palms. You rose to your tiptoes, leaning in until his sweet lips found yours.
-`♡´-
Spencer had expected to spend the ride home talking to you. Instead, you spent the entire ride trying to resist the urge to climb on top of each other. Once he tasted your lips, he couldn’t get enough, and neither could you.
Your giggle sounded through the dimly lit halls of his apartment complex as he dragged you up the stairs.
“Hurry,” you impatiently chuckled as he struggled to find his keys in his bag. He joined your giddy laughter as you entered the apartment. The second he shut the door close, he gently pressed you against the wall, his lips finding yours again. You let out a satisfied hum, your fingers sliding into the soft curls of his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your bottom lip.
“Wait—one second,” he murmured.
“No,” you pouted, capturing his lips.
He kissed you back—then again, and again—before finally pulling away. “I just need to put my gun away.”
“Fine,” you mumbled, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Just make it quick.”
He gave you a big grin and walked to the cupboard, where his safe was hidden behind his jackets and a row of spare shoes. It felt strange to have someone in his apartment. Strange to be smiling so brightly, to feel so much, after the emptiness prison has brought him. But strange didn’t mean bad. It felt new. And new could be good. You could be good.
His fingers pressed down on the familiar buttons: 62383. With a soft click, the lock opened; he took his gun from its holster on his pants and safely put it away.
When he turned back, he saw you leaning against the wall, a sweet expression on your face as you awaited him. He strode toward you, immediately pulling you in and kissing you fiercely.
Spencer was aware of his actions. Aware that he shouldn’t be doing what he was about to do with you. But as his hand made contact with the warm skin of your inner thighs, and as your sweet sounds filled the air, he chose to simply not care.
-`♡´-
The next morning you woke up with messy curls tingling against your face. You chuckled as Spencer lay asleep with his head resting on your chest. Your fingers ached with the urge to graze them through his hair, to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. Instead, you held your breath as you climbed from underneath him.
The golden sun shone brightly through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings. You tiptoed through the room, gathering the items of clothes one by one, until you were fully dressed.
Wearing yesterday’s dress sent a shiver through your body, being reminded of the long hours spent in that bleak interrogation room.
You mumbled a sorry, before opening his closet and fishing a T-shirt out of it, a blue one with a faded Caltech logo, barely visible. You ignored the thoughts forming in your head, the itch to want to know more about the man who was still sleeping soundlessly in the bed that you shared.
Once you found yourself a suitable pair of pants, Spencer started groaning from the other side of the room. You turned around, catching his hand patting down the empty space beside him, as if in search of the heat of your body. It felt irresistible to not check up on him. You slowly made your way to his side of the bed, crouching down and lightly stroking his face. His eyes blinked open, and the way he smiled made your heart churn.
“I need to go,” you softly whispered to him.
His smile faltered. “Where to?” He sat up straighter on the bed, but you gently pushed him back down.
“Will I see you again?” Spencer asked when you didn’t respond.
Your lips curled in a smile, “I’m sure you will.”
And sure you were, because as soon as you left the bedroom, you were headed to the cupboard, pushing aside the jackets that hung on the hooks, until your eyes landed on the shining steel safe.
62383.
The lock sprung open, and in a swift motion you took the gun and hid it in the bottom of your purse. I will be seeing you again, Spencer. Just under different circumstances.
A Chat About Books
S5! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader
Synopsis: Spencer catches you reading a rather disturbing book on the jet and a discussion about books and reading ensues.
Category: Fluff
Warnings: mentions of a case, discussions about a disturbing book called ‘Playground’, talks about gore (not explicit, just mentions of it in the book), mentions of murder & children dying, mentions of the Foyet arc and 5x09 “100”, reader has a fear of flying, reader is lowkey embarrassed about what she’s reading? spencer is also *lowkey* a simp? reader loves reading (heh), reader & spencer have crushes on each other but the other doesn’t know (i think that’s it, but please let me know if there’s anything i’m missing 🙏)
Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so i’m in the middle of reading “Playground” by Aron Beauregard and oh my god???? 😧 anyways, i wanted to write a little blurb because i get embarrassed about the amount of books i buy and read and ik spencer would never judge 😌 i love ✨projecting ✨ but i’m thinking of writing a part two with smut🤭 let me know hehehe
The case was a quick one. Sometimes, they usually weren’t and the team would probably be holed up in some random state for about a week. The longest you stayed was two.
You’d been on the team for a couple of years now and still, sometimes you never got used to flying high up in the air. You were usually terrified to fly, but over the course of you being on the team, you eventually got used to it.
And then you remembered the one thing your colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid, always suggested. Reading while flying. And it actually helped for flying on the way home. Usually flying to the case often consisted of debriefing and going over the M.O. and victimology. Flying home was always the better opportunity to get to reading your novels.
And you loved reading, so it gave you more of a reason to catch up on it. You often stuck to romance, but occasionally drifted into the horror genre, like you were now.
After the case in Minnesota — regarding your unsub killing prostitutes and then graduating to lower risk victims that reminded him of his wife who left him for his best friend — you were curled up in your seat on the jet, it’d been a while since you indulged in your reading without having your head full of thoughts. Since what happened with George Foyet taunting Hotch and his ex-wife and child going into witness protection and it ending with Haley being killed in the process, your head had been filled with so many thoughts and worries and stress for Hotch and his family that you could’ve even bury your face in a book until everything calmed down.
Spencer had noticed that you’d started reading again as he passed through the aisle on his cane and seated himself right next to you. He didn’t know what book you were reading but you’d been so focused on it, you didn’t even see that Morgan tripped over nothing in the aisle and tried to play it off like he didn’t. Usually, you’d laugh and tease Morgan like a brother since that’d always been your friendship with him but you didn’t even remove your focus from the book. Spencer thought it must’ve been that good of a book that you didn’t draw your attention to anything else.
He leaned over, trying to get a look at what you were reading but the book was nestled in your lap. “Whatcha reading?” Spencer finally asked and suddenly, your attention was finally drawn from the book. You almost flinched because you didn’t realize he was sitting next to you.
You quickly try and hide the cover since it’s a pretty gruesome sight so you turn it towards you in your lap. “Oh, it’s a— it’s a horror novel.” You tell. “You, uh, you wouldn’t like it.” You quickly add before he can ask what it was about.
“Why do you think so?” Spencer asks as he leans his cane over in the aisle.
You knew Spencer wasn’t one to judge, it’s what made liking him so easy. And yes, you’d admit it, you harbored a crush on the genius. And honestly, why wouldn’t you? He was amazing, sweet and insanely hot. He was everything you wanted in a man. You knew he probably didn’t feel the same way and that was okay. But finding out what type of horror novels you were into was probably a dealbreaker. Not just in a hypothetical relationship but in a friendship.
You see, the book you were reading was called Playground by Aron Beauregard. It was about an old woman who lured three families for their children to try out a playground structure for money. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the playground structure is basically a death trap for the children and their parents are forced to watch as their children try and survive the playground structure of death. It was your first time reading it and well, one time was definitely going to be enough.
And part of you worried about telling Spencer the exact kind of book you were reading and you worried that maybe he’d think you were some type of monster for reading a book such as the one you were holding now.
“It’s—It’s pretty gruesome.” You said and pretty gruesome was putting it lightly.
“So is what we see on a daily basis.” Spencer retorts and you nod with a small shrug, “Fair point.” You sit to face him and you begin to explain the book to him.
“It’s a different type of horror. Splatterpunk, if you will. Do you know what that is?” You ask and he nods, “A, uh, literary genre characterized by graphically described scenes of gory nature. In most cases, the gore described is extreme.” Spencer explains, literally giving you the definition he’d most likely read on paper on in a dictionary.
“Right,” You nod. “Well, the plot follows a woman by the name of Geraldine Borden. She was working on building revolutionary playground equipment for years. And she decides to invite three low-income families to the estate. All the parents have to do is have their children test out the playground equipment but — there’s a twist. The playground structure is actually full of death traps and the children are pretty much in danger the entire book and unfortunately, the parents are forced to watch as the children try to escape. Spoiler alert: I’m pretty sure none of them make it.” That was just a guess, it was your first time reading it after all.
“I thought you only read romance books.” Spencer stated and you shrugged, “I change it up a bit once in a while. I found this book online on some blog. A lot of people were talking about specific pages and parts in the book and well, curiosity killed the cat.”
“Why do you read splatterpunk?” Spencer decides to ask you and you look down at the book and then back at him as you admit — “Is it bad if I say it helps with my profiling?” Spencer furrows his brows as he looks at you curiously — “Really?”
“Yeah, in some of the books I read in this genre, the main character is usually a serial killer. Or killing is involved in the most extreme of ways. It helps you really get into the mind of a killer and see why they do what they do. If it makes sense without sounding totally crazy.” You explain, hoping to God that you don’t sound insane for using extreme books such as the one you’re reading now to get a deeper understanding about your job.
“I don’t think it sounds crazy,” Spencer interjected with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s just a different perspective on things.” You stare into his eyes with a smile and surely enough, you can just get lose into those hazel pupils of his. How a man can be as beautiful as him should be a damn crime.
You turn back to the cover of your book and set it down, the cover facing upwards and seemingly feeling a little secure in what you’re reading without feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, well, this is my first time reading this book and well, probably will be my only time.”
“I’m assuming that the next time we’re in this position, you’ll be reading romance.” Spencer tells, considering that every time you’re on the jet, you’re reading a new romance book. The last time you were on the jet, you were reading a book called Praise and the author was Sara Cate. Spencer had gathered it was an erotic book, solely based on the fact that your face had flushed a couple of times while reading it and commenting that you needed to put a pause on reading until you got back home. He’d wished to know what exactly you were going to do once you got home that night.
“Oh, for sure. Those usually cheer me up from stuff like this.” You gesture to the book in front of you. “I’ve got to stop buying books, though.” You sigh sadly.
“When I was younger, my mother had always commented that I bought too many books. Said I should use the money for something a tad more useful. I can’t tell you how many Stephen King books I bought when I finally got a job. Every paycheck, it was a new book. I guess I need to outgrow the habit, sometime.” You look down, growing embarrassed again that you just spewed all of that to Spencer.
“I don’t think you can never have enough books,” Spencer tells. “No matter if it’s silly little romance books or anything of the horror genre, reading is a part of life. We shouldn’t shame other people for what we like.” He explains and you find yourself smiling again at him. “You’re right.”
Before you can go back to reading your book, you yawn behind your hand and Spencer leans over, “You should get some rest before we land.” He suggests, considering the fact that the entire time you were both in Minnesota, you barely slept. You drank coffee the entire time you were there, not wanting to bat an eye and have the unsub strike again. The most you slept was two to three hours at most. Both of your young minds working together would be the death of you one day.
You shake your head, “Oh, no. I’ll be fine.” Spencer looks at you carefully, “I know you’ll be fine, but you should get some rest. A short nap can often improve memory, improve job performance, lift your mood, make you more alert, and ease stress. They can also be good for your heart, too.”
You nod, your eyelids seemingly growing heavy after Spencer had talked to you about naps. “If you insist, pretty boy.” Stubborn as you were, the only person that could get you break was Spencer. He knew you were independent and always assured everyone you were fine. But Spencer always saw through it. You weren’t sure how he did, but he did, every single time.
So, you put your book down on the table and curled up in your seat as your head fell towards the armrest. Spencer had been in arm’s reach of the couch and grabbed the throw blanket that was perched there and quickly tossed it over your body. You looked down at you with a small smile on his face.
He wouldn’t admit it, but he always liked you. Like liked you more than a colleague. He liked you-liked you. There was something about you that lit up a room, something that he often noticed. And the fact that you’d had so much knowledge of books and the way you seemed to enjoy explaining a plot to him reminded him of himself a lot. You were so passionate about reading and books and he loved that little fact about you. He loved you. He loved your smile, your personality, your body.
And he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you that. And he hoped that maybe one day, he’d stop being a chicken for once and actually tell you how he feels about you.
“can i be the little spoon” all day EVERYDAY SIR 🫡
Baptized In Fear
Summary: Spencer struggles to fight the demons that haunt him through withdrawal. You're there to remind him he doesn't have to fight alone.
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Mentions of previous drug addiction/withdrawal. Mentions of sleep paralysis. Some religious verbiage in a non-religious setting. Fingering (f!receiving), unprotected P in V sex (birth control mentioned), dry humping (my beloved), some praise, creampie (fingers burning as I type that). Best friends to lovers/two idiots in love (giggling and kicking my feet)!! A little angsty (I'm SORRY).
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader
A/N: This song-fic is based on Baptized In Fear by The Weeknd, so I strongly recommend listening to it while you read, but it's not mandatory :) God I've missed writing LMAO I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! :') <3 and if you DO enjoy it, please feel free to like, reblog, drop a comment, whatever your heart desires because I truly do appreciate any feedback I get on my works :) Friendly reminder that my requests are open btw okay I love you all MWAH!!
I fell asleep in the tub, I was met with paralysis
My foot hit the faucet, water started flowing in
Spencer woke with a sharp gasp, his gaze darting toward the frigid water now pouring over his skin. His fingers twitched at his sides, submerged and pruny. His eyes fluttered as he fought to keep them open. When had he dozed off?
Couldn't scream for help, I just slowly felt the pressure hit
Moving one toe was the only form of motion left
Can't breathe for air, can't breathe
It was almost as though cement flowed through his veins instead of blood, keeping him anchored to the bottom of the porcelain tub. His pulse skyrocketed at the sound of the doorknob twisting followed by a sharp bang against the solid wood, but he couldn’t move. Logically, he knew that auditory hallucinations were normal for sleep paralysis. That didn’t stop them from being horrifying each time they happened.
Spencer’s heart pounded in his throat, threatening to leap from the seam of his lips and dive for the drain if he were to open his mouth even a fraction. He was dizzy. Debilitatingly dizzy. The bright fluorescent light stung his eyes and made his head throb.
He had to get out of this tub.
Spencer focused all of the energy he could muster on wiggling his toes. He knew that once he got his toes to move, the rest of his body would follow behind shortly after. The sound of footsteps outside of the bathroom sent another pang of icy panic shooting up his spine, tightening the band-like sensation currently squeezing the air from his lungs and causing his ribs to ache. It felt like a rock was lodged in his throat, blocking his airway as he struggled to just wiggle his damn toes.
Trying to remember everything that my preacher said
Tryna right my wrongs, my rеgrets filling up my head
All the timеs I dodged death, this can't be the way it ends, no
Spencer’s eyes slipped shut, exhaustion weighing them down. He was clammy despite the freezing water steadily rising, filling the tub beyond its normal limits. The gurgling sound of the overflow draining was muted by the incessant pounding at his bathroom door, the knocks sounding urgent and threatening.
A tear dripped down his cheek as he recalled what his recovery coach had preached to him about withdrawal. Testaments about how excruciating it would be, how it would test his sanity… but it was a necessary evil. His only choice was to fight the craving for the sweet relief of the needle or lose the career he worked so hard to excel in. Lose the family he’d made from said career. Lose you.
The water was now tickling Spencer’s chin, having slumped down into the tub presumably before he’d drifted off. His body was shivering violently, yet he still couldn’t lift a finger. Memories flashed behind his eyelids as he recounted every near death experience he’d had since joining the BAU. As he recounted literally dying and coming back to life at the hands of Tobias. In a way, he found it sardonic that he’d survived everything that he had just to die in a bathtub. All because he was too weak from withdrawal to fight the crippling grip of sleep paralysis.
Figure in the corner I can't quite see
I just know the shadow's staring at me
It gets closer, it gets closer, it gets closer now
Spencer’s eyes fluttered, opening in silent protest and staring unblinking up at the popcorn ceiling above. If this was to be the only movement his body would allow, then so be it. At least now he had something to focus on besides the barrage of memories blurring together in his mind or the overwhelming guilt consuming his entire being.
His heart nearly stopped on its own accord when he caught sight of a dark, shadowy figure in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t move his eyes to bring his gaze to it directly, something he was both grateful for and terrified about. It felt as though whatever it was was staring directly at him, pleased by his unfortunate predicament.
A tear dropped down into the water as the figure began to glide forward. Then another. And another. No matter how many times he repeated to himself that this was just a hallucination conjured up during the worst episode of sleep paralysis he’d ever experienced, the figure persisted, inching closer and closer.
Figure in the corner laughing at me
Water fill my lungs, vision blurry
Heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower
A low, rumbling chuckle filled the air as the water rose past Spencer’s lips now. The figure stopped at the edge of the tub now, its presence sinister. It was as though it was taunting him, gloating about its existence outside of the godforsaken bathtub he was about to drown in.
His shallow breaths rippled the water as it began to rise underneath his nose, then above it, smothering any last shred of hope he had of breaking free of his paralysis and escaping what was about to become his ceramic grave. His body instinctively began to choke, fighting with strength he didn’t have to try to rid itself of the intrusion, but it was in vain.
The popcorn ceiling blurred as muted sobs bubbled beneath the surface, his lungs burning with each failed breath. Spencer felt his pulse slow, the once frantic rhythm of his heart diminishing to a haunting lento. His eyes drifted shut as the water caressed his eyelashes, the final image his mind could summon being the first time he made you laugh, your head thrown back and your hand clutching his arm for support—the moment he’d fallen in love with you.
Voices will tell me that I should carry on
Voices will tell me that I should carry on
“Spencer!”
Spencer woke with a gasp, an intense wave of Deja-vu crashing into him as he jolted up. The freezing water that had surrounded him was gone, replaced by the comforting pressure of your hands on his shoulders and the blanket pooling in his lap. He blinked hard, trying to clear the haze from his vision as he took in his surroundings. The bathroom walls were no longer there. Instead, he found himself facing the plain, impersonal walls of the hotel room where they were staying while on the case. Spencer met your concerned gaze, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized not only had he woken you, but he had also worried you with his nightmare.
Hotch had paired you together to double up, since the available rooms were limited. He figured that, as best friends, neither of you would mind. And you hadn’t—if anything, it gave you a chance to watch over Spencer, knowing he wasn’t doing as well as he’d claimed. You knew him too well to believe that.
After Spencer was rescued, you started noticing the signs of addiction almost immediately. The shift in his personality was expected, given everything he’d been through. It was painful to accept, but you knew he would never be the same person he was before Tobias—and that was okay. You’d adjust to whatever version of him emerged. You were just happy that he was alive. But when the fidgeting grew constant, when his eyes seemed to drift into nothingness, when the bruises on his arm appeared, hidden under layers of long sleeves and cardigans… that’s when you knew it was time to step in.
You’d confronted him about it, promising to not say a word to Gideon or Hotch as long as he swore to get help. And he did. The following day, he joined The Beltway Clean Cops, and to celebrate, you treated yourselves to takeout from your favorite spot and spent the day binge-watching movies together, enjoying the rare day off. For the first time since facing the needle that fateful night, Spencer felt hopeful. He felt seen. He felt loved.
“Spence?”
Your hushed voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his hazel eyes re-focusing as they traced your face. Your hair was tousled from sleep, your t-shirt wrinkled and pajama shorts askew, and your eyebrows were pinched together as you studied him in the dim light. But even so, he thought you looked like an angel. His angel.
“Are you okay?” You whispered, moving your hand from his shoulder to press it to his forehead with a small frown. “You were crying in your sleep.”
Spencer nodded, sucking in a shaky breath as he felt his pulse slowing. “I-I’m sorry for waking you. I just–” He swallowed, savoring the feeling of your hand now carding through his hair to soothe him. “I’ve been having these awful nightmares, and when it’s not nightmares then it’s episodes of sleep paralysis. A-and I know that’s to be expected with withdrawal… they’re just getting worse and more frequent and it’s making me want to avoid sleeping if it means I can avoid them.” His voice cracks on the last word, a tear slipping down his cheek as his eyes flicker down to his lap.
Your frown deepened, your heart tightening at his words, until a thought crossed your mind. The room had two full-sized beds with a small nightstand between them, but that was easily movable. “What if…” you started, rising from where you sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “What if we push the beds together? I could hold you, and if you have a nightmare, I can wake you up. Would that help you get some rest?”
Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words. He wasn’t sure if it would help him rest or keep him awake, given how he'd stayed up all night just to make sure he wouldn’t pop an erection from being so close to you. From the moment he’d met you, he’d been smitten, but he quickly accepted that you probably wouldn’t feel the same. So, he’d kept his feelings to himself, never crossing the line into anything more than friendship. “U-um… yeah. Sure. We—we can do that.” Spencer cleared his throat, nodding before awkwardly scrambling to his feet.
After arguing over where to put the nightstand and a few lighthearted jabs at Spencer’s strength (the beds were heavier than they looked), the beds were pushed together and the both of you were settled underneath the covers. Spencer was as stiff as a board, staring straight up at the ceiling while you set the alarm to wake you both in the morning. Turning the lamp off and rolling over onto your side, you stifle a chuckle at how rigid Spencer is.
“Spence? Are you cold?”
Spencer shook his head, his taut face barely visible in the moonlight streaming through the cheap, thin curtains. “No, no I’m not cold at all. I just—” he cut himself off with a huff. “I-I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone. That’s all.”
You hummed in acknowledgment, propping yourself up on your elbow. There was almost a foot of space between you, leaving Spencer dangerously close to the edge. “C’mere, doc. I won’t bite.” Your voice was teasing yet gentle as you reached out, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I can’t hold you if you’re about to fall off the bed.”
Spencer sucked in a breath, his eyes closing momentarily as he tries to cling to his composure before he shuffles closer to you, almost resembling an inchworm with the jerkiness of his movements. Once he’s laying a few inches away, you grin softly. You close the gap between you, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arm around his waist.
“Is this okay? Or, if you’re comfortable with it, you can be the little spoon,” you whisper, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart underneath your ear. His hands lay stiffly at his sides, picking at the sheets nervously. After a beat, he finally relaxes, sinking into the mattress with a shuddered breath before he answers.
“Can I be the little spoon?”
His voice is meek and trembling, like he’s on the verge of crying. But you don’t question it. Instead, you nod, moving so he can roll over onto his side. When he’s settled, you curl into him from behind, snuggling into his back and wrapping your arm around his waist once more.
The warmth of his body pressed against yours is more comforting than you expected, and with a soft sigh you surrender to the lull of sleep.
I've been baptized in fear, my dear
I've been the chief of sin
Washing my soul within
Spencer lied awake, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slowly while he stared at the bleak wall and counted every one of your soft breaths puffing against his neck.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep. Quite the contrary, actually. He was desperate for even just a few hours before you both would have to wake up and meet the others at the precinct. But he had a problem.
Somehow, in your sleep, you’d managed to shift so that your face was only centimeters from the back of his head, rather than pressed against his back. Your arm, once draped around his waist, now hugged his chest, while your thigh rested across his hip and your calf dangled in front of him. You were practically curled around him like a koala.
Normally, he wouldn’t have any qualms with that. He’d longed for the chance to be this close to you for ages. But your calf was pressing against his crotch in an infuriatingly enticing way, and he was stuck in the dilemma of moving your leg and risking waking you or letting your leg stay where it was and use all of his will-power to stay awake so he wouldn’t drift off and subconsciously hump against your leg like a frantic animal from the wet dream he was bound to have.
He finally opted on moving your leg once the feeling of your face pressing into his neck and your lips skimming across his skin caused all of his blood to rush south. Slowly–oh so slowly–he brought his hand up to gently grab your calf. Your bare skin was silky and warm in his hand, making his eyes flutter shut as he fought the urge to groan.
A murmur slipped from your lips at the feeling of his touch, causing him to pause out of fear that he’d woken you. After counting the seconds between your breaths to ensure you were in fact still sleeping, he eased your leg up, ready to move it off of him when you stirred. Your grip on him tightened, pulling him impossibly closer as your leg pressed down into him even harder than before.
The friction from your leg pressing against his now aching cock made his breath hitch, a whimper slipping free into the night air before he could stop it. He was convinced now that, for whatever reason, the universe was pulling a cruel prank on him. Punishing him with the feeling of your body pressed against his but not allowing him to actually touch you. Not in the way he craved to at least.
The sound was enough to rouse you from sleep, a result of becoming a light sleeper since joining the BAU. Spencer stiffened, his body going rigid as he felt you lift your head, gathering your bearings. Then he felt your leg press into him again, this time intentionally.
“Spence?”
Your whisper in his ear sent chills down his spine. He swallowed hard, praying to whatever could hear him that you weren’t disgusted or upset at him because of his erection digging into your calf. After a beat, he finally whispered back.
“Yes?”
Shifting again, your hand trailed down his chest to rest on his tummy. Spencer was convinced his heart did an actual somersault in his chest.
“Do you want help with that?”
If words could stop a heart, then those surely did the trick. Spencer blinked hard before pinching himself, ensuring himself that he wasn’t dreaming again. When he winced from the pinch, he did it one more time for good measure. Nope. He was awake.
When he didn’t answer, your hand slipped even lower to tease the waistband of the pajama pants he wore. His cock twitched at the sensation of your nails slightly dragging back and forth along the sliver of exposed skin there, and his lips parted in shock as you whispered into his ear again.
“The hormones released during sex help promote sleep…” Your voice was raspy still, adding a sultry edge to your already sinful offer. “...which you really need.”
Spencer swallowed, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally managed to speak. “Y-you don’t have to offer something you don’t want to do just because you f-feel bad for me.” His voice cracked with a mix of defeat and embarrassment.
That cleared any remaining sleep from your veins as you moved to sit up. A frown pulled at your lips as you rested a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to turn over. “Hey,” you murmured, sadness lacing your tone. “Spence, look at me.” When he finally turned over, your heart broke into fragments. Tear streaks glistened on his cheeks in the dim moonlight, his face forlorn and downright pitiful as his lower lip trembled.
“You know me better than to assume I’d ever offer something I didn’t want to do.”
Spencer knew you were right, but his mind couldn’t bring itself to accept it. To him, it had always seemed utterly illogical that you could ever feel even a fraction of what he felt for you—let alone be drawn to him enough to offer that. And yet, here you were, looking at him with a fondness that made his heart stutter.
“Are you…” He swallowed hard, reaching up to wipe his tears away. “Are you sure?”
You nodded, offering a small smile. “Of course I am, Spence. I–” Sucking in a breath, you averted your gaze to the bed before continuing despite the heat rushing to your cheeks. “I know it probably wasn’t my best idea to make a move the way I did, but I’ve… um. I’ve had feelings for you for a really long time and I just figured since you were hard that that was as good of a time as any to finally say something about them.” Your fingers picked at the fabric of the sheets, your nerves running rampant now that you’d finally put your feelings out into the open instead of keeping them tucked away.
Spencer stared at you in silence for a moment, slack-jawed and doe-eyed. When you finally brought your gaze back up to his, the sight made you chuckle. That snapped him out of it, his face flushing as he cleared his throat and sat up.
“I-I feel the same way,” he said less than elegantly. Fumbling for words, he continued. “You are… everything. You’re everything to me. You always have been. I knew you would be the moment I met you.”
Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at his words, and a small, disbelieving laugh left your lips at his admission. Instead of replying with words (which were failing you at the moment anyways), your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a kiss.
I've been baptized in fear, my dear
Like Paul, I'm the chief of sin
Washing my soul within
Spencer gasped in surprise against your lips, stiffening for half a second before melting into your touch. His lips sought yours out tentatively, his head tilting just enough to find the perfect angle. His hands found your waist as your mouths worked together, resting hesitantly there as though he were afraid that if he touched you too hard you’d disintegrate into thin air and he’d wake up alone and aching like he had so many times before.
But this was real.
Your hands slid from his cheeks into his hair, tugging gently as you pulled him closer. A soft groan slipped from his lips as your tongue brushed his lower lip, silently begging for entrance. He eagerly granted it, whimpering slightly at the molten sensation of all of his blood rushing south once more.
Spencer, in a surprisingly brazen move, pulled you into his lap, propping up against the headboard. His hands slid from your waist up to rest on your ribs, his thumbs tracing the space below your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. He reveled in the shiver that coursed through your body, taking it as a sign that you were enjoying his touch and letting his hands trail higher until he was gingerly cupping you, thumbing over your pebbled nipples.
“Spence,” you breathed, breaking the kiss. Your chests heaved, the both of you panting and wild-eyed as your gaze met. “You can take it off. I want you to… Please?”
That one simple word was almost his undoing. Please. You’d said it so sweetly. So needy. He’d gladly give you everything your heart desired and more if that’s how you asked for it—though he knew he’d give it to you regardless, no begging necessary.
Spencer nodded, letting out a shaky breath as his fingers found the hem of your shirt. He tugged up, lifting it over your head and tossing it to the ground without a second thought.
He might as well have tossed his brain with the fabric, considering that it was now rendered completely useless at the sight of your bare breasts right in front of his face. His eyes widened in awe, making you duck your head into the crook of his neck to shy away from the intensity of his gaze.
“Like what you see?” You murmured teasingly, nipping at his skin gently before placing an open mouthed kiss on his jaw.
“There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe how much I like what I’m seeing right now.”
Spencer’s answer sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy, fluttering wildly as you pulled back to grin at him. Your hands found his chest, steadying yourself as you shifted in his lap. A breathy groan filled the air as the movement pressed your hips together, the hint of friction feeling almost electric as pleasure zipped through the both of you.
You repeated the motion, grinding against him with a soft sigh. His hands fell to your hips, squeezing as he guided your movements. His head tilted back, smacking the headboard with a quiet thud.
“Ow!” He huffed out indignantly, but he was grinning, savoring the giggles bubbling from your lips as you laughed at him.
“Guess you could say I’m a real knock out, huh?” You teased, squealing as he pinched your side and rolled his eyes at your lame joke.
Your giggles devolved into muted moans as he leaned forward to mouth at your nipple, pinching the other between his fingers as you rocked against him. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation, the desire pooling in your lower stomach growing hotter by the second. Your hands drifted up his chest to rest on his shoulders, using the leverage to rock against him even harder.
The ache between your legs was dizzying. A whine slipped free from your lips when you felt his muffled moan on your skin, his tongue laving across your nipple before he switched sides. The cold air against your warm, spit-slicked skin sent chills down your spine.
“Need you,” you mumbled, letting your fingers slide down to the bottom of his shirt. “Can I take this off?”
Spencer nodded, releasing your nipple with a soft pop as he sat back just enough to pull it off and toss it to the floor to join yours. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight of the newly exposed skin, taking note of every single freckle and scar you saw before you leaned in to kiss him again.
This time, it felt desperate. Messy. Primal. Gone was the hesitation, the exploration of something new, instead replaced with a hunger only each other could satiate.
Hands roamed across skin, silently pledging your devotion to one another as your hips continued their frantic movements. Spencer’s fingers dug into your hips as he broke the kiss, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
“I-“ he swallowed hard, fighting to hold back a moan as you rubbed against him just right. “C-can I please fuck you? Please?”
It was your turn to fight back a moan as you gazed down at him, the dim moonlight illuminating his features in the most hauntingly beautiful way possible.
“God yes.”
At your answer, Spencer found the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your thighs with a newfound urgency. You rolled off of him, ignoring his whine as you shimmied out of them.
“Well? Aren’t you going to take your pants off?” You arched a brow, motioning to his still-clothed lower body with a sly grin.
Spencer was frozen, his kiss-swollen lips parted as he stared at your now completely naked body. You hadn’t been wearing any panties under your shorts, a revelation that had him almost cumming on the spot. Blinking, his mouth opens and closes a few times before his brain finally catches up.
He hurriedly shoved the plaid fabric of his pajamas pants down, kicking them off the end of the bed along with his boxers. “There,” he whispered, moving to hover above you. Before you could respond, his lips were on yours once more.
A shocked gasp caught in your throat as his fingers found your core, running up and down your slit to collect your wetness before dipping into your folds. A groan rumbled against your lips as he pressed a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out slowly as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit.
“You like that?”
His question wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t arrogant. It was genuine curiosity, wonderment threaded through his hushed words as he pulled back to take in the sight of you underneath him. When you nodded, he grinned, kissing your forehead before whispering again.
“Can I add another?”
“Please do.”
Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He added the second digit, thrusting his fingers and curling them to try to find that small patch of nerves tucked away inside you. A smirk graced his lips when your back arched, the small cry leaving your lips letting him know he’d found it.
Your body writhed under his as he pounded his fingers into that spot, unrelenting in his mission to make you fall apart beneath him. He could feel your walls tightening, your wetness coating his hand as you neared the edge.
“I-I’m—Spence!”
Your legs thrashed, your eyes squeezing shut and hands gripping the sheets as you came hard. Spencer watched, his gaze reverent as he slowly pumped his fingers, coaxing you through your orgasm.
“That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your open mouth. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
Trembling, you let out a breathy laugh as you finally opened your eyes. “Fuck, Spence. C’mere.” You pulled him down, threading your fingers through his hair with a dopey smile.
He settled between your spread legs, his breath hitching as his hard cock pressed against your thigh. “I… um…” His eyes fluttered shut as you angled your hips, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. “I didn’t bring any protection—“
“I’m on birth control, sweetheart. And I’m clean. Does that work for you?”
Spencer groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and nodding against your warm skin. The idea of fucking you already had his knees weak. But fucking you raw? He felt like the most blessed man alive, favored by whatever entity existed.
It took every ounce of willpower he had not to immediately cum as he sank into you, inch by devastating inch. The feeling was pleasure in its purest form. Redemption. Salvation.
A guttural groan ripped its way from his throat as he bottomed out, panting into the crook of your neck as your fingers carded through his hair. Everything about you felt perfect. Too perfect.
“I won’t last long. I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured sheepishly, lifting his head to look at you. His cock twitched at the sight of you, all flushed and spread out beneath him. He gave a tentative thrust, moaning at how your body seemed to grip him, pulling him back in as if he belonged there. He’d spend forever inside of you if he could.
You shushed him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “That’s okay, baby. Don’t apologize,” you reassured him, dragging your nails gently down his back.
He shivered, swallowing hard before nodding. His hips began to move, slowly at first before his control dissolved completely. His hips began rutting into yours, the lewd sound of skin against skin filling the air between pants and moans.
Within minutes, Spencer was trembling in your arms, his pace faltering. You brushed his hair back from his face, a satisfied smile lingering on your face as you looked up at him through hooded lids.
“That’s it, Spence. You’re doing so good. Made me feel so good, sweetheart. Cum for me.”
Spencer’s hips jerked at your words, his mouth falling open around a moan as he filled you with everything he had. He swore his vision gave out for a second, replaced instead with explosions of color behind his eyelids. His chest heaved as he gulped down air, rolling off of you with a quiet groan before flopping onto the bed beside you.
Once he’d caught his breath, Spencer leaned over to press a kiss to your temple before urging you to get up and go pee. You whined, shoving him away playfully and grumbling the entire ten steps it took for you to reach the bathroom (and flipping him off when he cackled at your awkward waddle to try to prevent his cum from dripping down your legs and onto the floor).
Figure in the corner I can't quite see
I just know the shadow's staring at me
It gets closer, it gets closer, it gets closer now
When you returned, Spencer opened his arms, pulling you into them and whispering about how thankful he was for you and how, now that he had you, he’d never let you go. He peppered soft kisses along your jawline, then across your cheeks, murmuring about how beautiful you were as you dozed off against his chest.
For once, he finally didn’t feel the gnawing craving that usually chipped at him throughout the day. He finally felt like he could breathe.
Figure in the corner laughing at me
Water fill my lungs, vision blurry
Heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower
Lying there with you, holding you in his arms and cradling your body against his, he finally felt at peace. So much so that when he started to drift off, he didn’t panic like he usually would. No.
Instead, he simply pulled you closer, finally allowing sleep to take him. Because he knew if his demons came back to haunt him at any point during the night, you’d be right there beside him, fighting them with him.
Voices will tell me that I should carry on
Continued A/N’s: I’m a dumbass and accidentally fell asleep without setting an alarm so I’m posting this just a little later than I want to but here it is!! :’) Again, I hope you guys enjoyed 🫶🏼 -K
REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.
Anything For Ellie : Part Three
Spencer Reid x Single Mom!Reader
Summary: Spencer is finally taking you out on a date and you discover just how lovely he can be with you — in public and behind closed doors.
Category: Fluff, Smut
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, themes of spencer taking reader out on a date, spencer being down bad for reader, in a world of boys he’s a gentleman, reader being shy, takes place after the prison arc, mentions of season 12, kissing smut warnings: she’s a dirty girl- cunnilingus, minor dirty talk, slight nipple play, protected sex, p in v, fingering, spencer’s hung, praise kink go brrr, lowkey rough fucking, possession kink if you squint, spencer calls reader ‘angel’
Author’s Note: here is the longgggggggggggg awaited part three to anything for ellie!! i’m so sorry it’s taken me this long ahhhh but here it is and i hope it was worth the wait!! i lowkey got writers block with this so that’s why it took so long but i hope never to take so long again but yk life be getting in the way lol anyways please enjoy this! and ofc i had to post this on matthew’s birthday hehehe
part one / part two
It was official, you were going on a date with Spencer Reid. You’d sat with Ellie in front of your mirror as she applied your lip gloss on your face. Surprisingly, she was pretty good at makeup. That probably had to do with her favorite auntie’s doing.
You’d told Ellie she’d be staying with Penelope for a few hours while you and Spencer were hanging out. You didn’t exactly want Ellie to know about your date for good reason. You didn’t want her getting her hopes up about Spencer being more involved in their lives but it seemed as if he already was — getting her hopes up, that was.
“All done!” Ellie announces and you take a look in the mirror. “Great job, El! Where’s you learn to do makeup?” Ellie smiles to herself, “Auntie Penelope taught me.” Knew it.
You shake your head at your daughter and look into the mirror. Spencer told you to dress as nice as you wanted because he wanted to take you to a fancy Thai restaurant. So, you dressed in red, your best color — according to Penelope, she’d helped you with shopping for your date since you haven’t been on a date in years.
You’d pulled out all the stops, getting your hair done, doing your makeup, even dressing in expensively ridiculously high heels. It’d been a while since you were asked on a date, damn it, might as well look as good as you wanted. There is a knock on the doorframe and both you and Ellie turn around and see that it’s Penelope.
“He’s here!” Penelope beams and Ellie cheers as she jumps around. You stand up from your seat and look over at Penelope as you flatten out your dress with your palms. “How do I look?”
“Oh, you look amazing, pretty girl!” Penelope compliments and you smile at the woman as she grabs Ellie’s hand. “Now, Ellie, let’s go say hi to Spencer so your mom can make a grand entrance!”
Penelope and Ellie leave you, shutting your door behind them and you take a deep breath, staring at yourself in the full length mirror in your bedroom.
You’re completely stunned this is happening. You’re going on a date with Spencer freaking Reid. This has been something you thought about since you met him. You never thought it’d come true. Back then, these were just hopes and dreams. But now, this was reality. You wanted to pinch yourself because you had to have been dreaming, right?
You hear the chattering out in the living room and Penelope’s signal for you to come out. You nearly break your ankle as you walk down the hallway and Spencer is standing there, suit and all with a bouquet of roses in hand. When he sees you, it’s like time stops. You are his only focus of attention. And his breath is completely taken away as his eyes subtly rake over your figure in that dress.
“Wow…” He exhaled. “You look…” Spencer pauses, blinking a few times like he needs a moment. Was he really that focused on you, you wonder. “You look beautiful.”
You take in his suit, that sexy suit he looks oh, so good in. He’d matched your dress with a red cardigan underneath his blazer. How does he not sweat in that? Guess he was cold-blooded. “You don’t look too bad yourself, doc.” You smile.
You begin to walk over to him, your heel almost taking your ankle out again and you shake your head. “Okay, you know what?” You shake your ankles out of the heels and find your chucks near the couch and sit on the couch to quickly slip those on. “Now, I feel like I can walk without breaking something.”
Spencer chuckles as you make your way towards him without anything in your way, this time. “Hi.” You breathe, staring into his eyes and he stares into yours with a crooked smile — “Hi.” He says softly and you look at his hands, causing him to look down to see what you were looking at and then exclaimed — “Oh! These—These are for you. I remembered you said you liked roses, as cliché as they are.”
You’d remember the conversation as well, he’d been over for a movie night since Ellie practically begged him to come and she’d also chosen the movie. She’d chosen Beauty and the Beast and the topic of flowers had come up. Spencer had given Ellie a cool fact about wilted roses and that was where you chimed in and said that roses had been your favorite flower, even if they were a cliché.
You grab the flowers and smile at him, “Thank you, Spencer. These are lovely.” You take a whiff of them and he watches as you do so. He loves that you can be enraptured by the smell of roses.
“Well, we better get going. Our reservations are at 7:30. And if we get there in—” Spencer checks his watch. “Approximately nine minutes and twelve seconds, we can dodge traffic.”
You kneel down to your daughter’s level, “Be good for Penelope, okay, sweet pea?” You ask and Ellie beams, “Okay, Mommy!”
“Don’t worry about anything here,” Penelope chimes in, grabbing Ellie by the shoulders. “I’ve got it all taken care of. You guys just go and have all the fun in the world!”
Penelope grabs your arm gently as she pulls you closer to her — “And I am very available to stay the night if you need me to.” She grins with a wink and you flush at that sentence alone at the insinuation.
You bid your goodbyes to Penelope and Ellie and head on out with Spencer. He’d been a gentleman, getting you flowers, opening the car door for you, pulling out your seat at the table once you got there.
“I-I don’t drink, but I’d be happy to buy you a glass of wine if you’d like.” Spencer offered and you immediately shook your head. “Oh, I’m okay, thank you.”
You sat there and every so often made small talk with him, discussing anything and everything since he’d always had a fun fact in his back pocket. You’d enjoy those fun facts every time, never interrupted him, never disregarded him, just listened and asked questions every so often.
He’d talked about the origins of the restaurant you two were currently at when you wondered something in the back of your mind. And you felt the need to share it with him, because you wondered if maybe he’d thought about it as well.
“Spencer?” You run the rim of your glass with a finger.
“Yes?”
“I-I guess I’m just… a little curious,” You began, with a hitch in your breath. “How long did you feel—?” You pause, looking at his intriguing eyes and they’re burning into your soul, listening intently and you’re quick to shy away once you realize the attention’s all on you. “Never mind.”
“No, no, carry on. What were you gonna say?” Spencer sits forward and you shake your head, dismissing the topic. “No, no, it’s silly.” You say. Spencer grabs your hand across the table as he looks into your eyes and says — “Nothing you say is silly.”
You take a sharp breath and you break out of your shell, staring down into your lap as you think what you were about to say before you shied away. “How long… did you like me before you… asked me on a date? I guess I’m just curious.”
Spencer thinks on it for a moment before quickly responding. “It was the first time we met, and you had come to my door to ask if I had any juice.” You nod as you remember, “Oh, yes! Juice is the only thing Ellie will drink when she’s sick.”
“And you’d run, so you asked me. And I remembered your hair, sticking out, wearing a pastel pink robe and mismatched socks. And from that moment forward, I guess, I was hooked, so to speak.” You smile at the memory and lean forward, “Can I let you know on a secret?”
Spencer leans forward to you and you smile at the closeness between you two — “That was the day I knew, too.” Spencer smiles as he looks down and he too has grown shy and somehow you’ve grown more confident.
After you two have ate, Spencer pays for the check — you’d tried to split it but found out he prepaid for the meal before you two even got to the restaurant— and you two get back into the car, him opening the car door for you again had you weak in the knees.
“I do have one more question, Spencer.” You suddenly speak, turning your body towards him in the car. “What’s up?” Spencer asks, as he keeps his hands steady on the wheel and his eyes on the road.
“What made you finally ask me out? I mean, you had to have thought about it before you asked me, right?” You’d asked and for a brief moment, he turns to you before keeping his eyes back on the road. He doesn’t want to, but of course, safety first, he guesses.
Spencer bites the inside of his cheek, he’d debated on telling you right then and there. But he didn’t know how you’d take him being framed for a crime he didn’t even commit and how the reason he was gone for a few months wasn’t because of his job but because he was at the Milburn Correctional Facility because he was wrongfully convicted of murdering Nadie Ramos in Mexico. He couldn’t tell you that. What if you didn’t trust him anymore? What if you wanted to call the whole thing off? What if you didn’t trust him around Ellie anymore? There were so many reasons why he didn’t — why he couldn’t — tell you. He couldn’t risk losing you when he just got you back.
“Something told me it was finally time,” Spencer opts, which wasn’t exactly far from the truth. After being in prison for as long he was, he thought about you everyday. He wondered how you were, how Ellie was doing, if you’d thought about him, too. You were the only thing that kept him going in that godforsaken place. “I was, uh, gone for a little bit, as you well know.” He says and you nod at that. “I guess I just realized it was now or never.”
“Right,” You nod. “Now or never.” You look outside the window and Spencer thinks to himself. If he could keep this secret forever, he would. It’s best if he does. He can’t screw up what you two already have going on.
After it’s all said and done, you two walk back into your shared unit, stopping in front of your door— but walking slowly so as to keep prolonging your time with each other. Eventually, you stop short and sigh, “Well, this is me.”
Spencer nods as he bites his lip and scrunches up his nose and his eyes gleam at you as you smile at him — “I had a really great time tonight. It’s been a while since I had a date.”
“Same here,” Spencer nods. “But good, I’m glad.” You both stare at each other for the longest of times and just as you’re about to put a hand on the door, he speaks.
“Y/n,” He begins.
“Yes?” You ask, eagerly hoping he’s about to ask the one thing you’ve been wanting to hear for most of the night.
“Can I… Can I kiss you?” Spencer asks and you smile at him as you look him up and down, gazing at his perfect bodice in front of you. He’s bulked up since the last you saw him, you notice. You look back up at him and his gaze is solely on you. It never moved from you. “I never thought you’d ask.” You say.
And Spencer leans forward, hands placed to your cheeks as he pulls you forward and kisses you, so gently, so lovingly. Holding you like you’re gonna break apart in his hands, soft like your sand weaving between his palms, waiting to wilt away in a summer breeze.
You hold him close to you, not wanting to waste a moment of this, with his lips on yours— kissing him like you mean it and you’re holding him like you’re gonna lose him. Finally, you both back up and you look at each other, lips swollen and parted.
It’s as if you can read the other’s mind because in that moment, you have no idea if it’s you or him, but you find yourself straying towards his apartment door and finding refuge there as he quickly inserts his key into the lock and opens the door and he’s just as quick to shut it as he pushes you against it, hand under your head to make sure you weren’t bumping into the door too hard as you rake your lips from his to his neck and his collarbone as you even trying to unbutton his shirt.
He hikes your leg up over his hip, hand trailing up your thigh as he pulls you toward him and hikes you up as you lay your lips everywhere. He carries you to his bedroom, where he gently lays you down and cowers over you with a smirk and kisses you so lovingly.
“Unzip me?” You ask, sitting up a bit and Spencer shakes his head— “Not yet.”
You furrow your brows and Spencer pushes you back down softly and he bows his head down to your thighs, fingers lacing towards the waistband of your tights and pulling them down slowly. “I want to at least get a chance to taste you while you’re wearing this dress for me. God, I wanted to ravage you in this the minute I saw you.” He confessed and your heat throbbed as his sultry tone and you wiggle the rest of the way out of your tights so they’re easier for him to take off.
Spencer flings them somewhere in the room as you bunch your dress up higher and spread your legs for him. He traces his tongue down your thigh and you clench around nothing as the warmth of his tongue sends shivers down your spine.
He blows a hot breath into your core before moving closer and laying a kissing on your pussy and that’s when you pull him closer to your wet heat and he dives between your folds. You feel his tongue circle on your clit, slurping everything you had for him and his moans vibrating in your walls as he sucks on your clit, making you grip onto the sheets and his hair as you arch your back off the mattress as he gets you to the brink of your orgasm.
The coil breaks and your clit throbs under his touch and he looks at you, eyes blown with a mix of lust and love. You wove your fingers through his hair to get a clear look at him and he smiles warmly at you and you return.
Your hand grazes down to the collar of his shirt and you pull him up to you, placing a soft kiss on his lips. You taste your essence as he glides his tongue through the crevice of your mouth and it’s dizzying, heart beating faster than normal. He’s quick to take notice of that.
“If you want to stop here, that’s okay.” He tells you and you smile at him endearingly. He’d always want you to feel safe, no matter what. And he’d always make sure you’d have total control of the situation. You were sure of it.
“Not a chance I want to stop.” You smirk, pulling him back to your mouth as you move your knee towards his crotch, nudging his bulge aching in his slacks and he takes to moaning in your mouth.
His moaning nearly turns into a whine until he grabs your hands, holding both of them above your head and you swear you’re on the verge of a heart attack with how delicious he looks above you.
Spencer leans down, leaving kisses on your neck and most likely hickeys as you feel his tongue trace the column of your neck. He stops, looking at you. You think he’s looking just because he wants to but he’s looking to make sure you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.
You place a hand on his face, stubble scratching the palm of your hand. Your thumb traces his bottom lip as you stare into his eyes, full of wonder and what you were thinking at that very moment. You never noticed just how golden his eyes were on the inside.
He was so ethereal. He was infinite. One of a kind. The one man you held dear to your heart. You just wanted to bottle up this emotion you had for him and keep it locked away for you and yourself only.
Spencer is the first one to move as he sits up on his knees and begins to unbutton his dress shirt and you take this moment to try and help him unbutton his shirt, starting from the bottom as he starts from the tops and meeting halfway as you finally get the shirt off of him, revealing a white tank, that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him rock before but you could get used to the sight anyhow.
You go to take the shirt off but he grabs your hands to stop you. “If you don’t mind, I’d… I’d like to keep it on. If that’s okay?” Spencer’s eyes are practically pleading with you and of course, you’d never want him to do anything he didn’t want to do. “Of course.” You nod.
You wonder what his big secret is. A third nipple? A weird birthmark in the shape of a foot you might make fun of? No belly button? The possibilities were endless. But you didn’t have much time to dwell on it when he pulled you close to him and began to unzip your dress with your body flush against his.
He pulls the sleeves of the dress, revealing the fact that you decided not to wear a bra underneath your dress. Spencer looks up at you with an amused smirk on his face. “A bra would’ve just ruined the dress.” You shrug and Spencer shrugs right along with you, “Oh, I’m not complaining.” He leans forward, kissing your nipple before fully suctioning on it like it’s his lifeline.
It seemed that the man you went out with had some kind of oral fixation. Spencer lets go with a pop as he looks up at you, “Did you know that it’s possible for women to experience an orgasm solely from nipple stimulation? It’s not as common as achieving orgasm through direct genital stimulation but some women may find that focused nipple play can lead to a full-blown climax.” You look at him with a surprised look but somehow even more aroused at the fact that he just knows that? You knew he was smart but damn, using his facts while having sex with you? A whole type of rush in itself.
You stop yourself from rocking against him and pull him back to face you. “Maybe we can test that theory another time,” You tell him. “I need you inside of me.”
Spencer nods and stands up, reaching into the desk next to his bed and pulls out a box of condoms and you furrow your brows at him with amusement. Spencer takes notice of this. “Luke-Luke said I should… be prepared.” He admits, shyly and you smile at this.
Spencer removes his slacks, as well as his boxers and sits down on the bed as you remove the rest of the dress off your body and toss it on the ground as Spencer rolls the condom onto his cock.
He turns towards you, staring at you hungrily and hovers over your body, like you’re prey, ready to be slaughtered. And by God, you’d let him eat you any day. Spencer probes a finger towards your entrance and you gasp at the feeling. “God, you’re so wet.” He comments, moving his finger deeper inside of you, gently moving it back and forth. You grab onto his taut bicep and relish in the feeling of this. He’s not even in you yet and he’s making you feel things you never thought you’d feel again.
This continues for a minute more but you’re tired of the teasing. “Spencer…” You pout and he chuckles, “Alright, angel girl. I’ll give you what you want.” Spencer steadies himself on top of you and that’s when you get a good look at him.
Spencer’s… huge, to say the least. Thick in girth and in length, you’d say he had to have been at least eight inches. You’d always imagined he was packing, but Jesus. Needless to say, you’d been intimidated by Spencer’s dick. You’d had big before, but never big like Spencer.
You gulp and Spencer, like he has been all night, noticed your behavior once more. “What’s wrong?” He asks and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Nothing, it’s just… will it fit?” You wonder and Spencer looks back down in between you two and says — “I’ll go slow. Tell me if you need me to stop at all and I will, okay?” You nod at his words.
With that, Spencer’s tip captures your hole and he plugs the tip in. He sticks a few inches in and you moan, grabbing Spencer’s bicep again as he does everything he can not to cum here and now. “God… you’re so tight.” He groans and you reveal, “It’s been a while.”
“I’m gonna try to move, okay?” Spencer moves a piece of hair away from your face as he leans close to your face. “You let me know at all if you need me to stop.” You nod at him and he sticks more of himself inside of you, peppering your face with kisses and words of affirmation.
“You’re so perfect.”
“So good for me.”
“God, you’re so beautiful.”
Those are just the few testaments he showers you with. It’s a thin line between pain and pleasure but pleasure overtakes pain and he moves within you, hips grinding against yours as you two fit together like a piece of a puzzle.
“Can you… Can you go faster?” You ask him and he looks down at you, “You want me to go faster?” He repeats and you nod, “Please, please.” You beg.
He’s animalistic in his next movements and holds your hands above your head and drives his hips harder into you and you nearly shriek at how good it feels. The bed creaks as he whispers in your ear about how good you’re doing for him, how he’s waited so long for this, how beautiful you are. You’re too far gone to hear any of it because he’s absolutely railing you right now.
You rock your own body against his and he places kisses on your collarbone and mutters against your skin — “Do you want to cum, angel?” He asks and you gasp, “Please, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, at this point. He’s willing to give you everything.
“Then say you’re mine. Say you’re mine and you can cum. Can you do that, angel, please?”
His own tone makes it sounds like he’s begging, which he is. He’d worried he’d regret it later, damaging you was the last thing he wanted to do.
“I’m— I’m yours. Forever yours.” You breathe.
“Then, cum. You can do it, angel.”
And you see white as your pussy shudders against his cock and he gasps and even lets out a low whimper at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. You soon feel the warmth of him cumming inside of the condom inside of you. He even has to cover your mouth with his hand so your moans and shouts don’t reverberate in the walls.
Eventually, he collapses against your body, and you both pant and take breaths to calm down after your sexual encounter. Spencer lifts his head up and then looks at you, with the same love and adoration he held so dearly at the beginning of your date. You wonder how lucky you are, how much love he truly has for you, if this is all a dream. You’ve fallen for him. And you’ve fallen for him, hard.
“Hi.” You find that your voice is hoarse as you speak to him. “Hi.” He says back, lifting himself off of you and landing next to you on the bed so as not to smother any further.
Spencer pulls your body close to his and holds you against him and you hold him tightly, not wanting to let go, if it was the last thing you did. He holds you and you feel a kiss on the top of your head and mutters against your head — “Are you okay?” He asks.
You smile, moving your head to look up at him — “I’m perfect.” He grazes his eyes from your eyes to your lips and before you know it, you both lean in for a kiss.
You stay there like that, for the rest of the night. At least, after he cleans the both of you off and he discards the condom. And he later readjusts his body to lay against yours, head resting on your chest as you play with his hair and you smile to yourself. You still can’t believe it. You’ve fallen so hard for him. If he breaks your heart, you’d be done for. He’s everything you want and more.
As you stay there, you lean over to grab your phone and find a text message from Penelope.
Penelope💘: I take it by his late it is, you’re staying over? 😉🥰🫣
You shake your head as you send a reply back.
You: Tell Ellie I love her and that I’ll be home tomorrow morning.
Penelope💘: What? No details????
You: I don’t kiss and tell, Penelope 🙈
Penelope💘: So kissing was involved!!!
You roll your eyes as you set your phone back down and ruffle Spencer’s hair softly. This was the most peaceful you’ve seen him. You were sure he was asleep by now.
And in this moment in time, you prayed for more nights like this. In his bed, with his love and with his heart in your hands. He’d make you the happiest person in the world if you’d let him.
And maybe you might just let him.
Anything For Ellie : Part Two
Spencer Reid x Single Mom!Reader
Synopsis: It’s your daughter, Ellie’s birthday and your ex has broken yet another promise to her. Spencer’s there to comfort you and perhaps, feelings come to light.
Category: Fluff
Warnings: mild angst, but mostly fluff! reader has issues with ellie’s biological father, crying, yelling, kissing- that should cover it.
Author’s Note: here is part two! anyone want a part three?
part one
It was Ellie’s birthday. And Spencer had gotten lucky with not getting called in for a case. (He’d been the first person to show up to help you decorate your apartment). Of course, he’d come to help you the night before, especially the decorations you wanted to put on the ceiling and seeing as he was tall enough to help with decorations, he was the man for the job.
There were a few hours left of the party, Ellie had been laughing and running around with her friends, having fun and playing games. And even Spencer had shown Ellie and her friends a couple of magic tricks, playing the part of the magician of the party and exciting them.
All of the moms that were there seemingly harbored a crush on Spencer, all jealous of the fact that this Spencer was your next door neighbor and even some of the moms had asked if you two were dating (and if they could get his number if he wasn’t). You’d felt a little territorial over him, laughing it off with the moms and brushing off their comments because at least they didn’t have the luxury of living next door to the sexiest man alive.
Even Penelope, Spencer’s friend — that later became your friend — made an appearance at the party. Ellie always loved the bubbly Miss Penelope Garcia and you’d met her when you’d run into him and Penelope at a coffee shop one time. Since then, Penelope had become a best friend of sorts and came to visit at the bakery all of the time since she met you.
It’d been a couple of minutes before you were going to cut the cake and have Ellie blow out her candles. You’d been waiting on her father to show, like he’d promised Ellie. And as you watched Spencer show another magic trick, you paced. You’d sent text message after text message to your ex and he’d yet to respond to you.
Finally, your phone began to buzz and your ex’s contact came through on the screen and you quickly excuse yourself from the party, going out into the hall since your apartment was noisy at the moment.
Spencer had noticed as you walked out into the hall and by the lack of appearance from Ellie’s father, he knew it was most likely him calling you. Quickly, he distracted the kids with his playing cards, telling them to try and practice the trick on each other and went to go and check on you.
When he opened the door, your back was turned to him and you were angry. “What am I supposed to tell Ellie, Mark? You promised her you’d be here!” Your ex said something on the other line and you’d yet to notice Spencer standing there by your door.
“Something always comes up, Mark. And it’s not fair to Ellie, especially on her birthday. If I knew any better, I’d say you didn’t care about her at all.” He cuts in , most likely to tell you you were wrong, but you interrupt him almost immediately. “No, you don’t care! Otherwise, you’d be here. I’ve tried giving you the benefit of the doubt for Ellie’s sake but I’m tired of bullshit excuse after bullshit excuse. And now, I have to tell Ellie how her bullshit father is not showing up to her birthday like he promised. And you know what? I’m going to the courts and requesting full custody because you cannot be bothered to be there for her like an actual father.” Another pause. “I can do that, Mark. You hardly ever see her. It will be a no-brainer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, one of us wants to be there for our daughter and since it’s definitely not you, I’m stepping up to the plate. Screw you, Mark.” And with that, you hang up and groan out of frustration.
It’s then that you see Spencer standing there and you’re flustered at the fact that he may have just witnessed that entire thing. You sigh and hold your phone up, “Ellie’s dad not coming.” You say. “Yeah, I gathered that.” Spencer stated.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asks and you scoff at him, “Am I okay? Not really.” You look down and feel the tears brimming in your eyes and you feel arms wrap around you. Spencer was never really one for hugs, so the motion kind of shocked you. You felt small as you find yourself wrapping your own arms around his torso and you just cry. And he lets you.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Spencer assures but you shake your head, “I just wanted him to keep his promise to her, for once.” Spencer rubs your back in comfort, head resting on the top of your head. “I know.” He whispers to you.
“The least he could do is show up and be there for her, you know? And I try and try and try and he’s always just… it makes me feel shitty because he acts like I keep her away from him and I don’t. I encourage their relationship and he’s the one not putting any effort for his own kid!” You exclaim out of frustration and you pull away, looking at him as you wipe your tears. “Maybe he was right, I am a hot mess.”
“I know, but you know what? It’s his loss.” Spencer tells you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “He chose not to be here but that has nothing to do with you or with Ellie. And if he wants to remain in a state of unhappiness, then that’s on him.” You sniffle as Spencer speaks to you so kindly. “You’re amazing, Y/n. You’re kind, you’re smart and funny, Ellie is so lucky to have you as a mother. I see how you are with her. And you do everything in your power to keep her happy. Your hard work does not go unnoticed, Y/n. Don’t think otherwise.”
You sniffle as you nod at him. “Okay.” Spencer puts a hand over your shoulder. “You’re doing just fine without him around.” He assures and you nod again, “How is it that you always know exactly what to say?”
Spencer simply shrugs, but you stare in awe. You’d had no idea that he thought you were amazing. And he told you you were a great mother. And by no means did you look from validation from a man but Spencer… he was different. Hearing this praise from him made you feel confident. And confident enough to do what you were about to do next.
You’d both been standing close so you don’t know exactly who initiated it or what but one second, you were staring at his lips and then next, they were on yours. And by the look on Spencer’s face, which was mostly laced with shock and confusion — you were the one that leaned in.
You quickly back up, “Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry.”
“Wait, Y/n—”
“We can totally forget that just happened.” You quickly look at your watch. “I need to— It’s time for Ellie to blow out her candles.”
You attempt to head back in your apartment when you feel Spencer grab you by your hand and twirl you around as your lips meet his again and this time, you melt into his touch. His hands are holding your face as he kisses you, so passionately you nearly want to lift your leg up like they do in the movies.
You pull away when it becomes a chore to breathe and you look at Spencer as he asks, “Can I take you out on a date sometime soon?” He asks and you smile with wide eyes and a small nod, “Okay.”
“We should probably go back in, Ellie’s probably waiting for cake.” Spencer reminds you and you nod, “Oh, right!”
You walk back into your apartment, Spencer behind you as you walk over to the cake and light the candles. Ellie is sat at the table with her friends and you place the cake in front of her with a large smile as you encourage everyone to begin to sing ‘happy birthday’.
“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Ellie, happy birthday to you!” Ellie closes her eyes and makes a wish before she blows out her candles and you look up at Spencer with a large smile on your face.
“Alrighty, Ellie, cake or presents first?” You ask and Ellie cheers, “Presents! Presents!”
There was a whole table filled with presents just for your daughter. Penelope had begged for Ellie to open hers first and she’d received kinetic sand, a doodle pad and three squish-mallows. She was spoiled rotten, the girl. She’d received toys, more stuffed animals for her collection, pretty much everything she wanted. Spencer had been bringing the presents to her, putting them in front of her and watching them being demolished by Ellie. It was only a matter of time before one more present was left on the table.
“Oh, it looks like this one is from Spencer!” You exclaim, looking at the man with a guilty smile on his face and Ellie cheered as she began to unwrap her present and nearly shrieks when she sees what he got her.
“What is it, love?” You ask and Ellie smiles as she shows her friends. “Spencer got me a magic kit!” Spencer had indeed gotten her a magic kit. She’d had her very own cape, gloves, hat and trinkets. “Oh, and here!” Spencer reaches over, giving her his card deck. “But this is your card deck!”
“I know, but every great magician needs a good deck. And you have the greatest there is.” Spencer smiles and Ellie laughs, “Now, I can be just like you!” You look up at the man with a large smile and then back at Ellie, “What do you say, Ellie?”
“Thank you, Mr. Spencer!” Ellie says and Spencer nods, “Oh, of course, Ellie! Anything for you.” You look over at Spencer and he gives you a sly wink and you smirk his way and Ellie looks at you, “Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Can I have some cake now?”
“Of course, princess.” You tell her and Spencer decides to help you with that as well.
Later, you’ll have to tell Ellie that her dad wasn’t able to make it but as far as you know, the whole thing with your ex is behind you. You occasionally steal glances from Spencer — who you’re going on a date with soon, you keep reminding yourself because it’s so weird to think — and smile to yourself in a way that makes you think how funny life is.
Spencer feels the same way, you think in your head. It’s so crazy to you that he does. And he kissed you. And he asked you on a date! Suddenly, the signs are clear like no other. He’s always liked you. He’s had to have. You look at him one more time and when you look up, he seems to already be staring at you and that just confirms it for you.
You are going on a date with Spencer Reid.
This should be interesting.
ALYSSIA THIS WAS SO GOOD!!! EVERYONE GO LIKE, COMMENT AND REBLOG RN 😠 MY GIRL ATE UP HER FIRST FIC !!!
SIP AND STAND • SPENCER REID
SUMMARY: Navigating caffeine cravings and chaos, Reid finds himself drawn into a tense standoff, discovering that even in a coffee shop, unexpected alliances can brew.
PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer reid
a/n: this is my first time posting on here so pls be nice and lie to me even if it sucks cause i’m sensitive
this isn’t an actual reader x spencer fic cause i struggle with writing in first person and not writing a specific character so bare with me while i learn!
tysm to @g4rvez-r3id @dearlenore and @cerisereids for helping me navigate through this super overwhelming new process! <3
w/c: 2.2k
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The fluorescent lights of the coffee shop hummed, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in Reid's mind. The case they'd just wrapped up had left him feeling hollow. A six-year-old boy, missing for three days, found just in time – but Morgan had taken a bullet to the shoulder during the takedown. His teammate would be fine, just restricted from field assignments for a while, but the image of blood seeping through Morgan's shirt kept replaying in Reid's mind. He needed caffeine, and he needed it now.
He shuffled toward the counter, already calculating the amount of sugar he'd need to counteract the bitterness of the black coffee. Three packets? Four? He usually went for five. He knew it wasn't healthy, but right now, he craved the jolt of pure, unadulterated sweetness. He reached for a handful of packets, tearing them open and pouring them into his cup with abandon.
The bell above the door chimed, and a laugh cut through the ambient noise – warm and genuine, like honey over gravel.
A young woman walked in, her yellow sundress flowing down to her ankles, making her look like a ray of sunshine against the coffee shop's muted tones. Her brown hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, and there was something gentle about the way she moved.
"I know, Mom, I know," she said into her phone, her voice edged with frustration as she joined the line, running her free hand through her hair. "I wish I could visit this weekend, but this paper on evolutionary psychology is killing me. Like, I get the basic premise of cognitive adaptations, but trying to explain how modern behavioral patterns evolved from ancient survival mechanisms? I'm completely stuck."
Reid's ears perked up. He found himself unconsciously leaning closer, stirring his coffee slower than necessary.
"The professor wants us to focus specifically on mate selection theories," she continued, adjusting the strap of her bag. "I've got three days to figure this out, and I just... I don't know. It's overwhelming."
Her mom's voice on the other end must have been comforting because she let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I know Dad would say it's all a bunch of hooey. But you know how he is with anything that doesn't have a clear-cut answer."
As she listened to her mom's response, her eyes caught the movement at the door. A man in an expensive suit walked in, took one look at the line that wrapped around the counter, and headed straight for the front. He brushed past several waiting customers, ignoring their pointed stares and muttered complaints.
"Mom, something just came up," she said, her voice shifting to a more serious tone. "I'll call you back in a little bit, okay? Love you."
She slipped her phone into her purse and stepped directly into the guy's path.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice firm but polite. "There's a line."
The guy paused, looking at her with a patronizing smile. "Ah, but rules are for those without charm, sweetheart."
"I'm not your sweetheart," she replied, her voice cooling several degrees. "And you can wait in line like everyone else."
The guy stopped, turning to face her fully. "Look, I'm in a hurry," he said, his tone impatient. "I don't have time for this."
"Well, that's unfortunate," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, the kind that could cut like ice. "The line starts back there."
The guy's face flushed with anger. He took a step closer, invading her personal space. "You need to learn to stay out of people's way," he said, his voice low and aggressive.
She didn't back down, though Reid noticed her fists clench at her sides. "And you need to learn basic manners," she retorted, her voice slightly less steady than before.
"Listen here, you little—" the guy sneered, leaning in closer.
Reid abandoned his half-empty coffee cup on the table. The statistics on public harassment flashed through his mind – how often these situations escalated, how many victims never reported. He calculated the probable outcomes and decided it was time to intervene.
"Is there a problem here?" Reid's voice cut through the tension as he stepped forward.
The guy turned, irritation flashing across his face. "Mind your own business," he snapped.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Reid replied, his voice calm. "You see, social dynamics in public spaces can be quite fascinating. Did you know that intervention by a third party decreases the likelihood of escalation by 50%?"
"Who the hell are you?" the guy challenged, turning to face Reid fully.
"FBI Special Agent Dr Reid," he said, pulling out his badge. "And harassing people in public spaces is very much my business."
The guy scoffed, though Reid noticed him take a small step back. "You expect me to believe you're FBI? Looking like that?"
"Would you like to verify my credentials with the local field office?" Reid offered calmly. "Or perhaps we should discuss the legal definition of harassment in public spaces. The statutes are quite specific about—"
"This is ridiculous," the guy cut in, but his confidence was clearly shaken. He looked between Reid and the woman, jaw clenching. As he turned to leave, he muttered, "I don't have time for this shit," before shooting one last look at the woman. "You got lucky this time."
Once he was gone, Reid turned to her. "Are you okay?"
She let out a long breath, her shoulders finally relaxing. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Just a bit shaken, I guess. That was..." She ran a hand through her hair. "Thank you for stepping in. I was trying to act tough, but he was starting to scare me a little. I really don't like entitled jerks."
"Most people wouldn't have said anything in the first place," Reid offered.
"I usually don't," she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself. "But something about his attitude just... I don't know. I couldn't help myself." She shook her head slightly. "I should probably learn to pick my battles better, huh?"
"Actually, speaking up against threatening behavior can help prevent future incidents. Though perhaps with backup next time," he added with a small smile.
She laughed softly. "Yeah, well, thankfully my backup today came with a badge." She gestured to the counter. "Let me buy you a coffee? As a thank you?"
Reid glanced at his abandoned coffee cup, already forgotten in the whirlwind of the encounter. "Oh, you don't have to—"
"Please, I insist," she interrupted. "It's the least I can do for my knight in..." she paused, glancing at his mismatched socks and cardigan, "...academic armor?"
He nodded, intrigued. "Sure, I'd like that."
They moved to the counter together, and as they waited for their drinks, she seemed to relax more, the color returning to her cheeks. Her eyes caught on the book tucked under his arm. "Wait, is that 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'?"
"It is," Reid replied, suddenly aware that his heart was beating faster than usual. "Though I find Wilde's short stories more psychologically complex, particularly 'The Happy Prince.'" He paused, then added, "I couldn't help but overhear – you're writing about evolutionary psychology?"
"Oh god, yes," she groaned. "And completely drowning in it. I thought I understood the basics, but trying to connect everything together..." She trailed off, shaking her head.
"I actually have BAs in Psychology and Sociology, along with PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering and I've done extensive study in evolutionary psychology for my work with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," Reid said, then hesitated for a moment. "If you'd like, I wouldn't mind helping you work through some of the concepts?"
Her eyes lit up. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"
Reid took both their coffee cups before gesturing to an empty table by the window. "Not at all. Actually, the evolutionary basis for altruistic behavior is fascinating. Did you know that reciprocal altruism was first mathematically modeled by Robert Trivers in 1971?"
She smiled, following him to the table. "I have a feeling I'm about to learn a lot more than just that."
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The afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky as their conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through topics of evolutionary psychology, literature, and the quirks of human behavior. Reid's explanations were met with keen interest, and her questions were insightful, sparking lively debates between them.
"You know, the way you explained the evolutionary basis for altruism really helped me see the connections," she said, jotting down notes in her notebook. "I never thought about how reciprocal altruism could be mathematically modeled."
Reid nodded, clearly in his element. "It's fascinating, isn't it? Trivers' model from 1971 really opened up a new way of understanding social behaviors."
Just as she was about to respond, Reid's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it and saw Garcia's name flashing on the screen. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, stepping aside to take the call. His demeanor shifted immediately, becoming serious as he listened.
When he returned, he looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. There's a case."
She nodded, understanding. "Duty calls, huh? You know, for a moment there, I almost forgot you were an FBI agent."
Reid chuckled softly, appreciating her light-hearted approach. "It was nice to forget for a bit."
As they gathered their things, Reid courteously opened the door for her. He noticed for the first time how petite she was compared to him, her presence both delicate and confident in contrast to his taller frame. "Thank you. It's nice to share what I've learned with someone who's genuinely interested," he added, feeling a bit flustered by the unexpected intimacy of the moment.
She stepped out into the cool evening air, the bell chiming softly behind them. "I have a feeling my professor is going to be impressed too. Thanks to you, I'm actually looking forward to tackling this paper."
Reid hesitated for a moment before speaking. "If you get stuck on any more complex theories," he offered, trying to sound casual, "I'd be happy to help. You know, for the sake of academic rigor."
She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Is that your way of saying you'd like to see me again, Dr. Reid?"
Reid's cheeks flushed slightly, but he met her gaze with a shy smile. "Maybe it is."
"Then I suppose I'll have to take you up on that," she replied. They exchanged numbers, and she gave him one last wave. "Thanks again. For everything."
Before she could turn to leave, Reid hesitated, a hint of his usual earnestness returning. "Are you sure you'll be okay walking home? Statistically speaking, the probability of encountering a dangerous situation increases by approximately 30% when walking alone compared to walking with someone."
She grinned, appreciating his concern. "I'll be fine, Reid. But thanks for the stats lesson. And don't worry, I'll keep my phone handy."
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Back at the office, Reid walked in with an unusually cheerful demeanor, his steps lighter than usual. Morgan noticed immediately and exchanged a bemused glance with Emily. They both observed him for a moment, enjoying the rare sight of a visibly happy Reid.
Emily raised an eyebrow, sharing a knowing smile with Morgan. Without saying a word, they both seemed to agree: something was definitely up.
Finally, Morgan couldn't resist breaking the silence. "Reid, you look like you're on cloud nine. What's going on?"
Reid glanced over, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"
Emily chimed in with a teasing tone. "Come on, Reid. You can't fool profilers. You're practically glowing."
Morgan leaned in, pressing a bit more. "Yeah, pretty boy, you look like you just won the lottery."
Reid smirked, opting for a classic comeback. "You know, the odds of winning the lottery are approximately 1 in 292 million. Statistically speaking, I'm more likely to be struck by lightning."
Emily laughed, shaking her head. "Nice try, Reid. You're trying to change the subject."
Reid shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "I just had an interesting conversation this afternoon."
Morgan's curiosity was piqued. "Interesting enough to put that smile on your face?"
Reid nodded, keeping things light. "Met someone at the coffee shop. We talked about evolutionary psychology—altruism, reciprocal behavior, the usual."
Emily's curiosity was piqued. "That sounds like quite the conversation."
Reid offered a noncommittal smile, allowing a hint of mystery to linger. "It was... engaging."
As they were about to head to the conference room, Garcia intercepted them, noticing Reid's flustered demeanor. "Hey, what's going on with our boy genius? He looks like he just solved world peace."
Morgan chuckled, sharing a knowing glance with Emily. "Just a little coffee shop chat, babygirl."
Emily grinned, offering Garcia a playful shrug. "Yeah, he's had a... stimulating afternoon."
Garcia gave Reid a teasing smile, then turned her attention to Morgan with a flirtatious tone. "Well, sugar, you can fill me in on all the juicy details later."
Morgan grinned back, clearly enjoying the banter. "You know it, gorgeous. I'll bring the popcorn."
With that, they all headed to the conference room, the air filled with the warmth and camaraderie that defined their team.
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If you liked this, please don’t hesitate to tell me because I’m about to throw up out of nervousness!
If you didn’t, pretend you didn’t read it !
When You’re Lost in the Darkness, Look for the Light
Ex! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader
Synopsis: Your ex, Spencer Reid, has just lost his girlfriend due to her being murdered. When all else fails with the BAU team helping him get through this loss, the only person left to help is you.
Category: Angst, Fluff
Warnings: established past relationship, maeve arc, takes place after 8x12 “Zugzwang”, mentions of death and suicide, technically an AU for 8x13 “Magnum Opus”, spencer is obviously still mourning maeve, mentions of lauren storyline, mentions of breakups, reader was in a past relationship before spencer, kinda sad, hopeful ending(?) let me know if i missed anything! <3
Author’s Note: i feel like this was a bit rushed, especially towards the end butttt i might make a part two to this- just let me know if i should :)
It’d been a few weeks since what happened. Spencer witnessing his girlfriend being murdered right in front of him by her stalker. You knew that he was taking it hard, of course, who wouldn’t after seeing something like that?
The team had been frequently visiting him. Garcia had stopped by with her ninth gift basket on his doorstep, since he never answered. JJ had offered to bring the boys over to cheer him up but Spencer would never answer. Even Hotch, and Morgan tried to get him to get a breather outside of his apartment but of course, Spencer never answered. Blake and Rossi knew that he needed his space, knowing that a loss like this wasn’t easy.
Everyone on the team had tried, everyone except you. And honestly, why would you? Your breakup with Reid was enough reason not to go and see him.
You two had broken up when he’d found out you’d known about Emily taking her death. (You weren’t even supposed to know about it, you had just stumbled across Hotch and JJ having the conversation after you’d found out that your best friend was dead.) After she’d come back when they had a lead on Ian Doyle’s son, Spencer had later confronted you and told you he couldn’t forgive you for knowing for ten months and not telling him about it.
You expressed just how much it pained you not to tell him but that she couldn’t risk telling him. He had to understand that. Frankly, he didn’t.
And it seemed that he still hadn’t forgiven you since then.
It’d been over a year since you last had a full conversation with him since then, only opting for small talk or only talking when it was relevant to whatever case they were on.
And then you found out about Maeve. There were whispers around the office, Spencer was smiling more in the office, he was secretive and not to mention the case with the payphone that you and Blake took him to after needing answers regarding a case. You and Blake badgered him, wanting answers as to why he was being so secretive.
And then his words confirmed it for you — “Because I don’t want them to know about her, okay?”
And so, he had a girlfriend. And you were perfectly okay with that. Of course, it hurt that he’d moved on but someone had to, eventually, right?
Since then, you had avoided him any chance you had. If you two were alone in the kitchenette, you were the one who left first. If there was a spot on the jet open next to Spencer, you’d offer it to someone else quietly. You figured pushing him away — even professionally — was the best thing you could do for your own mental health.
But then Spencer’s girlfriend had gone missing. And you weren’t exactly forced to work a case but it sure felt like it when Hotch said that you guys would be working on your free time. You had half the mind to walk out of the bullpen right then and there. But then you looked at Spencer. Spencer, who looked like a kicked puppy dog with his sad eyes, messy hair and anxious stance and pleading, begging the team to help find her. And you knew that he’d always be your weakness, no matter what. And you’d like to think that maybe he’d do the same for you if the roles were reversed.
It’d taken a few to discover that Maeve’s stalker was Diane Turner, a research assistant at Mendel University where Maeve used to work. Diane applied and was rejected for a PhD after submitting a doctoral thesis about spontaneous cellular death in suicide patients, due to said thesis being biased as it contained references to her own parents, who’d committed suicide. She targeted Maeve, believing she was the one responsible for rejecting her PhD.
You remembered the minute you heard gunshots in the building, heart dropping at the possibility that it may have been Spencer who was shot at, since he offered to trade himself for Maeve. And thought it was better if the team were to wait outside of the building.
You remembered trying to talk him off the ledge but he simply ignored you and went into the building anyway without a vest.
You remembered Spencer trying to talk Diane down as she held a gun to Maeve’s head and growing anxious at the fact that Diane was getting more and more angry.
You remembered what Maeve spoke to him — her last words — “Thomas Merton, he’s the one you can never take away from us.” The proof of how much she loved him.
You remembered Diane pulling the trigger on herself and Maeve and Spencer’s painful pleading as both Diane and Maeve landed on the ground in a puddle of their own blood.
And you hated it but you remembered Spencer falling to his knees, sobbing over Maeve’s body. You could hardly believe it, even when it happened right in front of you. You’d fallen beside him, hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him the best way possible. And he grabbed your hand. Granted, he probably didn’t know or didn’t care enough to know who it was in that moment, but he took your hand anyways.
And since then, not a word from Spencer. And it was starting to worry the rest of the team.
But when you arrived in the office a few weeks after, staring at Spencer’s empty desk, JJ had spoken up and said — “Everyone else has tried but you. And I think you’re the person he needs right now.”
You’d responded, telling her that you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now in his time of mourning. But JJ had encouraged you. You’d known him in ways the team didn’t. Hell, you dated him. And you also knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.
A few years before you dated Spencer, you had had a boyfriend. You were dating him for three years until he lost his life in a car accident. You were heartbroken from the lost and you didn’t go to work for over a month after. The only person that gotten you through that had been Spencer. He always had a way with words and you remembered him being there for you the entire time you dealt with it. A couple of years later, you and him finally began to date.
And now here you were, standing outside of his apartment, wondering how the hell you got yourself in this mess. You’d told Hotch that you needed to take care of something and that you wouldn’t be joining them on this upcoming case. It was true and it wasn’t like you to just call out of work unless it was an emergency. It technically wasn’t a lie, Spencer was your emergency. And you knew that Hotch would understand.
You’d hesitantly knocked, so quietly. “Spencer? It’s me,” You’d spoken up, your voice hoarse. “I, uh, I know I’m the last person you probably want to talk to right now… but… I’m here. If you need anything, I’m right here.” You assured.
To make your point, you moved two of the gift baskets away from the door so you can plop right down on the floor to sit against the door. “And I’m not going anywhere.” You rested the back of your head against the door. “And we don’t have to talk. We can wait however long you need to. I’ll be here.”
“But, please, give me something so I know that you’re alive in there.” You asked and quietly pleaded, “Please.”
You’d waited thirty seconds before you lost hope entirely and then three soft knocks came from the other side of the door and you smiled to yourself in relief that at least he was conscious.
And soon the minutes turned into hours, with you resting your head against that door and shifting a couple of times to get comfortable. Spencer still hadn’t budged since he’d knocked on the door. You’d taken the opportunity to help yourself to one of Garcia’s gift baskets since Reid hadn’t seemed to claim them. You’d opted for one of the fresher baskets since the others had probably been sitting for about a few weeks now. There was a basket with the mini chocolate chip muffins that you snacked on while sitting there.
And after hours and hours of still waiting there with no peep from Spencer, your eyes began to flutter closed at how sleepy you were getting. Sleeping outside of Spencer’s apartment wasn’t the best place for your back or your neck but you had slept in worse places.
You’d probably succumbed to sleep at least a few hours later until you had a rude awakening involving Spencer finally opening his door.
You hit your head right on the floor, which had woke you up. “Ow.” You muttered and looked up, seeing Spencer’s ghostly figure standing above you. You could’ve sworn you were dreaming. “Spencer?”
“You’re still here?” He asked, confusion in his voice. You finally stood up from the floor and nodded at him to answer as he began to walk away from the door and went back to the couch.
It was then that you got a look at his apartment. There were books on the floor everywhere. If you knew better, you’d say Spencer may have thrown them out of anger, pain. Old takeout boxes on the kitchen counter and living room table. It smelt like death — (but it actually might’ve been Spencer). You had to squint to look around since it’d been so dark. “Oh, Spencer…” You mumbled and turned to him on the couch. He was in a fetal position on the cushions, his hair falling in front of his face with an evident frown engraved on his face. He looked like a fragile child and it ached your heart to see him like that.
You found yourself kneeling in front of him and brushed the hair away from his face — like it was second nature to you. Like you’ve done it before. And you have.
You looked around, wondering what you should do, what you can do. And you finally find something small to start with. “When was the last time you slept in your own bed?” You asked and Spencer didn’t answer. You expected that.
You stood up from kneeling in front of Spencer and walked to his room, grabbing a few clothes — a plain t-shirt, a pair of underwear, plaid pajama pants and a pair of mismatched socks. You then went into the hall closet to pull out a towel and a washcloth for him and walked towards the bathroom to start running the water. He always liked it not too hot or not too cold but just warm enough.
You walked into the living room and found Spencer sitting up on the couch. “Why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ve got it running the way you like it.” It took a few seconds but Spencer nodded at you and began to trudge to the bathroom. He’d left the door a crack and you wondered why he did. But then it occurred to you that maybe he didn’t want to feel quite alone for a minute and you were right there if he needed anything. And he knew you had a guilty conscience, knowing that if he had closed the door and he’d done something to himself, you’d never forgive yourself. And you wouldn’t want him trapping himself in the bathroom either.
As Spencer went into the shower, you’d taken care of the rest of the apartment. You started with opening the blinds to bring some sort of light in and then with the kitchen counter, clearing out all of the old takeout boxes and washing dishes and wiping down the table and putting the books back on the shelves. All except for one. The Narrative of John Smith, it’d been the one book that he was clutching onto the entire time she’d been here until you told him to get into the shower. You knew he needed to put that one away on his own terms.
You fixed the couch up, laying the throw blanket neatly over the couch and then walked to his room, setting up his own bed. Wanting for him to be as comfortable as possible.
When he finally exited the bathroom, you didn’t hear him. You hadn’t heard his footsteps as he looked around the living room, seeing how you tidied up the place while he was in the shower. He almost thought you left, until he heard your humming from the other room. You were singing to yourself, a habit you picked up often doing casual things like laundry or spring cleaning. He missed the nonchalance of your presence and as he walked towards the door and found you making his bed, he missed it even more. Missed you even more.
You finally noticed that you weren’t alone, looking up to see him in the doorway and you smiled towards him. “Oh, hi.” You said and he walked into the room, looking down at his newly made bed. “Are you feeling better?”
He didn’t answer verbally, just shrugged.
You didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, you look down at his perfectly made bed and say, “Why don’t you get some rest?”
Spencer nods at you weakly and gets under the covers. You almost want to tuck him in, like he’s a child, but you refrain from doing so. You look down at him and felt like you’ve done everything you could for him. Made sure he showered, tidied his apartment. Surely he’s sick of you being here now.
You ease the awkward tension, sucking in a breath and patting your knees. “Well… I’m just… gonna… see myself out. Get all of the rest you can, Spencer. No rush to come back, just take your time.” You assure finally and silently plead him to ask you to stay longer. Because you don’t exactly feel accomplished at the fact that you haven’t done anything except ask him to take a shower and clean his apartment. It didn’t really feel like a win. Instead, you felt more heartbroken for Spencer.
And somehow, by some miracle, you felt him grab your hand and you turned to face him and his gleaming eyes. “Can you…” The words trailed off from his lips as he stares into your eyes. “Can you stay?” You look at him, with wide eyes. It was like he read your mind. “Please?”
You look at him and try to maintain your composure as much as you can. Because this is the first time he’s asked you to stay the night since you two were together. “Yeah, of course, Spencer.”
He moves towards the other side of the bed to make room for you and you’re shocked by the gesture. You hadn’t shared a bed with him since you were together, either. You sit up against the headboard and he gravitates towards your thigh, resting his head on it and closes his eyes and your hand finds his hair, running a hand through it and trying to maintain his curls at the back of his neck.
Then, you remember. You look towards the drawer next to the bed on your side and wonder. You open the drawer and sure enough, there it was. The brown comb you left behind. You often used it to brush his hair, especially when it was shaggy down his shoulders and he’d often rest his head on your thigh like he was doing now and you’d run your hand through his locks until you’d finally bought a comb. It surprised you that he still kept it. You would’ve thought it ended up in his ‘Y/n box’ like how everything of his ended up in your ‘Spencer box’.
And like second nature, you began to brush his damp locks with the comb, trying your best to angle your arm to not interrupt his rest. You softly smiled at the scene, his eyes closed and nose scrunching every few minutes or so.
You’d suspected that maybe he’d fallen asleep to you combing his hair because his breathing evened and he was quiet with his eyes still remaining closed. But you still found yourself still combing through his hair despite getting the tangles all out.
“I miss her,” He admitted and for a moment, you stopped your movements, not only because his words shocked you but also because you thought he was asleep. “I miss Maeve.” He added and you notice as his lip quivers at his own mention of his dead girlfriend and you do everything in your power to keep your lip from doing the same.
“I know.” You say, your voice so soft and nurturing as you continued to comb through his hair.
Spencer doesn’t say anything else but you were glad he’d spoken out just what he was feeling in that moment. You lean against the headboard, wishing to say more but what Spencer really needed right now was someone in his corner, not someone who wanted to give their own opinion about the situation or relate to him — just someone to listen to him.
You continue brushing until you finally decide that his hair is silky smooth and place the comb on the table next to you and look down at his resting face and instead of the frown you’d seen earlier, you finally see some sort of look of peace. Of course, the sadness is still etched on him from a mile away. But you glad to grant him some form of peace in a time where he’s most desperate of it.
You begin to run your hand through his hair, massaging his scalp like you often used to do when you were together. And for a moment, it’s like you two are dating again and it’s like it’s casual, like you’ve done this before — which you have. But it’s been so long, you never thought you’d be in this position again.
Eventually, he falls asleep on your thigh and his soft breathing is more even than it was before and his mouth is slightly parted as he sleeps. And you don’t care about the crick you’re going to get in your neck from this headboard, you don’t care that your leg is dead and that your pant leg is slightly damp from his wet hair. What matters more than anything right now is him getting the rest he deserves.
And what mattered more than anything and your goal was that Spencer was going to fight through this gaping hole of darkness and find his light eventually. And somewhere deep down inside of you, though you’d never admit it out loud — you hoped that that light was you.
i think i just discovered something new about myself- thanks min 😮💨
thinking about Spencer secretly taking me in public. that’s it that’s the thought
i was gonna turn this into a fic but decided a blurb would suffice lol
nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | public sex
spencer wasn’t usually one to initiate anything in public spaces. mostly because he never really thought about sex when he was out and about unless you brought it up first. but today? today was certainly different.
you guys had just gotten back to the bureau after a very long case. it was stressful, unnecessarily so. and that stress radiated between the two of you. the two of you were walking in the parking garage with no one else around, making your way to your car. and the moment you did? spencer dropped his things and pushed you against the car before kissing you with intense hunger.
and eventually, you were turned around and bent over against the car with your pants pulled down just enough for spencer to slip into you.
there was no time for him to be slow and gentle. the two of you were stressed and pent up. not to mention the compromising position of being in a parking garage. spencer had one hand on your hip and the other on your mouth to ensure you didn’t moan loudly and pathetically as his cock thrusted in and out of you quickly.
“fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he groaned into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as his hips slammed against your ass.
you let out a muffled moan, eyes rolled back in the pleasure of spencer’s cock moving inside of you. your hands were pressed against the driver’s side window, holding yourself up as spencer had his way with you.
“i couldn’t wait until we got home,” he said breathily. he licked his lips before continuing. “been needing you since we left the police station earlier today.”
you let out a shaky breath, relishing in the pleasure of spencer’s cock inside of you. his hips moved with a harshness and quickness that felt just right for a situation such as this. and the fact that anyone could catch you at any moment? that added to the sexiness of the situation, especially as the sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the garage.
you reached a hand down to your clit, rubbing circles to draw you closer to your orgasm. spencer’s thrusts began to get sloppy, signaling he was getting close. and with a few more thrusts, he was burying his head in your shoulder, trying his best not to moan loudly. a small whimper escaped his lips as spencer filled you up with his cum. you followed quickly, rubbing your clit until your orgasm overcame you. you let out a muffled moan as you closed your eyes. your body shook as your orgasm took over.
and when you were both finished, the world felt still and all the stress that encompassed your bodies had left the two of you. the sound of a car unlocking snapped the two of you out of your post-orgasmic daze, causing spencer to immediately pull out of you. the two of you pulls your pants up and got yourselves together.
you grabbed your keys and unlocked the car before opening the driver’s side door and getting in. spencer grabbed both of your guys’ things, placed them in the car, before getting into the passenger side. the two of you glanced at each other, suddenly feeling giddy at the fact that the two of you just had sex in a parking garage. and like any normal person in this situation, the giggles overcame the two of you.
crying brb (why is he not real 😞)
all those dreams where you’re my wife
gif by @reidgif
inside your mind - the 1975
Spencer Reid x Fem Reader
summary: coming down from the highs of sex, Spencer and Reader talk about his brain and its thoughts.
genre: fluff & angst
word count: 2.1K
warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, this is an old piece of writing.
masterlist!
Panting softly, your breath mingled with his, your chest rising and falling in tandem with Spencer’s. Your body felt weightless, the afterglow of your shared passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Sweat clung to your skin, and the soft hum of his heartbeat echoed in your ear where your head rested against his shoulder. The intimacy of the moment felt sacred, a shared silence that spoke volumes without words.
Spencer was unusually quiet. Not that his silence was uncommon—he often retreated into his mind after moments like this, his thoughts working in overdrive as if the endorphins had unlocked new pathways in his brilliant brain. He’d once explained to you that post-coital clarity often helped him connect dots he’d never considered before. You’d always found it endearing, a quirk that made him uniquely Spencer.
But tonight, something was different. His quiet wasn’t contemplative—it felt heavier, like the weight of his thoughts pressed down on both of you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers hesitated as they traced lazy circles on your back, the way his chest rose with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.
“What’s wrong, handsome?” you murmured softly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His chin, which had been resting lightly against the crown of your head, shifted as he tilted his face toward you. His eyes, usually warm and filled with an endless stream of curiosity, now held a flicker of something else—something guarded.
For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if he were weighing his words. You could see the gears turning in his mind, the way he struggled to reconcile his thoughts with the honesty that had always been the cornerstone of your relationship.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice soft but unconvincing.
It was a lie—a glaring, obvious lie. Spencer was many things: a genius, a profiler, a man who could recall entire books word for word. But a liar? Never. You knew him too well, knew the way his eyes darted away for just a fraction of a second when he was trying to mask the truth. He knew you knew, too, which made his attempt at deception almost endearing.
You propped yourself up on your elbow, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his damp forehead. “Spence,” you said gently, your tone a mix of affection and concern. “You’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them. Talk to me.”
His lips parted as if to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He sighed again, this one deeper, as though the act of holding everything inside was physically exhausting. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… complicated.”
“Complicated doesn’t scare me,” you replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.
He let out a breath, his gaze darting away for a moment before returning to yours. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”
You frowned, leaning closer. “Try me,” you said softly. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just tell me what you’re feeling.”
His hand moved softly, almost reverently, to the back of your head. His fingers threaded through your hair with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine, pausing now and then as though he were mapping the curve of your skull. There was something purposeful in the way he touched you, something that felt more like exploration than comfort.
“I wish I could know you the way you know yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. His fingers continued their journey, tracing invisible patterns that only he could see. “I want to be able to have your brain all laid out in front of me, every thought, every memory, every piece of you.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, his voice soft but steady as he continued, almost to himself. “The back of your head is at the front of my mind.”
He fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to untangle the thoughts swirling in his mind. His hand didn’t stop moving, the gentle rhythm of his touch grounding both of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I’ll just… watch you breathe.” His eyes flickered toward you, searching your face as though bracing for judgment, but his hand never faltered.
“I’ll watch the way your breathing slows, the way it evens out. It’s like… proof. Proof that you’re real, that you’re here with me. And then I start to wonder…” His voice trailed off, but the weight of his thoughts lingered in the air.
His fingers stilled briefly before resuming their gentle path, tracing the base of your skull as though it held the answers he was searching for. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost fragile. “I wonder if you dream of me, or of the things you love, or the things you want in life. And I can’t help but think about how much I want to know every part of you. What makes you happy, what makes you sad, what you think about when no one’s watching.”
His other hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His gaze was intense, those wide, earnest eyes searching yours for understanding. There was no shame in his vulnerability, only a raw, unfiltered need to be known and to know you in return.
“I don’t want to miss anything,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re the most important person in my life, and sometimes it terrifies me how much I feel for you. Like… like I’ll never be able to express it the way I want to.”
The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His hand lingered on your cheek, the other still cradling the back of your head as though he could hold your thoughts in his palm.
He let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead lowering until it rested against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words almost too quiet to hear.
For a moment, he stayed like that, his eyes closed, his breathing syncing with yours. His hands stayed gentle, as though he were afraid of breaking the moment. And then he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that spoke of a love too big for words.
In the quiet that followed, his touch said everything he couldn’t, and you let it.
In the gentle quiet of the room, Spencer’s voice broke through like a fragile thread, hesitant yet determined. “I mainly watch you sleep because I’m terrified of my mind,” he admitted, his tone a mix of vulnerability and unease. He hesitated, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as if debating whether to pull the veil back on his inner torment.
His gaze dropped to the floor, his breath catching slightly as he continued. “When I sleep…” he started, the words trembling on the edge of his lips. “I dream that you’ve been taken. It’s always the same. I’m helpless, paralyzed—every step I take feels like wading through quicksand, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach you.”
His voice grew quieter, a raw edge creeping into it, but he forced himself to keep going. “By the time I finally get to you, it’s too late. You’re lying there…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, as though the very memory of the dream clawed at his throat. “You’re lying on the ground in a pool of your own blood. And the only thing I can see, the thing that haunts me even after I wake up, is the ring on your finger.” The room seemed to close in on you, the silence heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to such a confession. You’d never talked about marriage—not explicitly, at least—but there had always been an unspoken understanding between you two. You both wanted it, you both felt it in your bones, but life had never given you the time to explore that possibility.
But hearing Spencer speak of the ring, of the symbol of everything you meant to him, in such a terrifying, haunting context—it shook you. The dream wasn’t just about losing you; it was about him failing you. About the one thing that represented his commitment, his love for you, now twisted into something horrific, something he couldn’t escape.
Your mind raced, trying to process the weight of his words, the depth of his fear. You could see it now—the desperation in his eyes, the vulnerability in the way he held himself. Spencer was afraid. Afraid of losing you, fearful of not being able to protect you.
In that moment, the love between you felt both fragile and immense. You reached out to him, your hand finding his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the storm of his emotions. You didn’t need to say anything—he already knew how much you cared. But still, you squeezed his hand, hoping to convey everything that words couldn’t.
Spencer finally looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s supposed to be a symbol of everything good, everything I’ve ever wanted to give you. But in that moment, it feels like a mockery—a cruel reminder that I couldn’t protect you. That I failed you.”
The room fell silent, his words lingering in the air like a fragile echo. He looked at you then, his gaze pleading for understanding, for some assurance that the horrors of his subconscious didn’t define him.
“Spencer Reid, you could never fail me, not ever. Don’t ever think that,” you said softly, your voice steady but full of the weight of everything you felt. Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his cheeks gently, guiding his gaze to meet yours. You could see the self-doubt in his eyes, the fear that had taken root there, and it made your heart ache.
He opened his mouth to protest, but you pressed your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to hear you, to understand. “You’ve given me so much in this life, Spencer,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word carried the depth of your emotions. “So much that I never thought I deserved, but you showed me that I do. You showed me that I’m worthy of love, of happiness. That I’m worthy of you.”
You could feel the weight of your words sink in as Spencer’s breath caught, his eyes flickering with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. It wasn’t just the love you had for him—it was everything he had done for you, everything he had helped you realize about yourself.
You gently pulled one of your hands away from his face, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for his hand, placing it over your chest, just above your heart. “This…” you said, your voice catching in your throat as you pressed his hand against the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “This is because of you. Every beat, every breath—it’s because of the love you’ve given me. You make me feel alive in a way I never thought was possible.”
Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested against your chest. The quiet intensity of the moment wrapped around both of you, and you could feel the weight of everything he was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the love—and you wanted to lift it off him, even if only for a moment.
You leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against his forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, a silent promise that you were there, that you always would be. Then, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, you whispered, “Spencer, you don’t ever need to worry about failing me. You’re everything I’ve ever needed. And I’ll never let you forget that.”
Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed, and without thinking, he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours, a kiss that spoke of gratitude and love, a kiss that grounded you both in the present moment. When he pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheek.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. And before you could respond, you kissed him again, this time deeper, letting the weight of everything you had just shared hang in the air between you like a promise, unspoken but undeniable.
thank you for reading!
please like & reblog if you enjoyed!
masterlist!
taglist! @pleasantwitchgarden
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a 20 year old mess | wp: K4REVSREID-spencer reid enthusiast (he’s my hubby)i mostly write on wattpad i just kinda read on here kind of a slut for spencer reid 🪐
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