ALYSSIA THIS WAS SO GOOD!!! EVERYONE GO LIKE, COMMENT AND REBLOG RN 😠 MY GIRL ATE UP HER FIRST FIC

spencer reid + hands

🤓☝️ may i request for your first time series the first time spencer lets reader take control during sex? not too sure how you feel about sub spencer but im horny for it and i’d love to see what you do

edging sub spencer genre: smut 18+ cw: sub!spencer x dom!reader, mentions of spencer being insecure about his masculinity, mentions of p in v sex, tied hands, handjob, edging, breastplay, oral (f receiving), thigh fucking, bit of degradation, religious comparisons wc: 2,4k a/n: am i a sub spencer fan?! pull up in the- yes lol i very much am. i cannot even call these drabbles anymore. if anyone is wondering why your requests are taking so long, this is the reason. my first time exploring this dynamic. i hope you'll enjoy, let me know your thoughts!

“Come on, baby. You’re the one who begged me for this.”

Spencer whimpered underneath you in response. He sat up straight on your shared bed, upper body rested against the headframe, long legs spread over the sheets, as your naked body hovered over his. And most importantly, his hands were tied behind his back with a silk red fabric.

Spencer craned his neck, trying to press his lips to yours, but you simultaneously leaned away from him. You shook your head, tsking. “What did I tell you?”

Twinkling hazel eyes blinked up at you, his eyebrows caught in a slight furrow.

“You can’t tell me you forgot,” you purred, fingertips trailing the curve of his jaw. “What did I tell you, Spencer?” you repeat with more force in your tone.

He visibly swallowed as your nails dragged down his neck. “That I’m not allowed to touch you.”

“And why’s that?” You hummed.

“Because sexual denial will increase the release of dopamine, and—oh…” he closed his eyes in delight as your nails continued their path down his chest.

“—and the release of oxytocin and serotonin. It will… in general… Jesus… make you more sensitive, which will heighten your pleasure.”

He had hurriedly finished his last words, letting out a deep breath of relief once you nodded in confirmation. 

“And all we want is for you to feel good. Isn’t that right, baby?”

He nodded fervently, a deep moan escaping his throat as your fingers grazed the skin of his upper thigh, carefully avoiding his throbbing length.

-`♡´-

It had all started last week, when you came home on a dreary Thursday evening. Immensely frustrated from your day at work. 

Spencer oftentimes suggested sex when you were feeling stressed out. Sexual intercourse is known for lowering blood pressure and boosting happy hormones.

Usually this would result in him leading you to the bedroom where he’d gently press you down onto the mattress. He’d crawl on top of you, lips immediately finding yours, giving gentle pecks as his hands roamed up and down the sides of your body. 

You’d have sensual sex. Sweet. Vanilla. It was the norm, and when it came to sex, Spencer wanted to keep to the norm. Sexuality and masculinity were deeply intertwined for him, and in both of these aspects, he felt like he didn’t fit into the traditional roles of a man, causing him to feel the need to approach sex textbook-wise.

The sex was good for the both of you. You never minded seeing your boyfriend on top of you. His lips slightly agape as he fought back his moans, hair falling into his face with every push of his hips, shoulders shuddering as he came inside of you. And for Spencer, he was always happy to be there. 

So, it was entirely new when you came home that day and tugged him by the collar of his shirt the second you entered the house. Spencer’s mouth was still in a gasp when you hungrily pressed your lips to his, tongue finding his without building the moment up like you’d usually do. 

Your body pulled flush against him. The softness of your breasts pressed against his hard chest. He was able to feel the peaks of your nipples even through the fabric of clothes.

“Are you okay?” Spencer choked out as you cupped him roughly through his pants. 

“I just need you, Spence. I need to use you.”

Those words were almost enough to make him spill in his underwear. And indeed, the second you had moved to the couch and straddled him (an entirely new position), taking his cock in your soft hand as you sunk down onto him, it took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to fill you up with his release.

You needed the control and security after having been bossed around at work. Spencer, on the contrary, felt too much in control at his job. Setting a profile and finding evidence and whereabouts on an unsub was very precise work, not even mentioning the huge amount of pressure on saving people’s lives. 

He never realized how good it felt to let go. To trust someone else in taking charge, in taking care of him. At that moment he didn’t think about portraying a certain type of masculinity. Instead of holding back his moans and settling on deep groans, he whimpered against your mouth as you fucked him. Squirming and whining underneath your touch as he begged you for more. 

His reactions didn’t go unnoticed by you. When you both had recovered and were cleaned up, you brought up the subject of this sub-dom dynamic, and it was very easy for Spencer to give in to exploring it more.

-`♡´-

“P-please.”

“What’s that?”

“Please touch me,” Spencer softly cried, fisting the pillow behind his back with the little grip he had.

You leaned in closer. Your breath tickled against his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before you licked a bold stripe up the skin. 

A strangled moan left his throat. You smiled at him, pleased with yourself. It deeply turned you on that you could do whatever you wanted to him, that he’d beg you for anything that you could give him. 

His body responded to every ghost of your touch. Your lips trailed his throat, feeling the heat radiating off of him. Occasionally leaving lingering marks and bites until you made your way up his jaw.

“Is this what you wanted, Spence?” You teased as you put your hand around his thick shaft. 

“Yes,” he moaned, his head falling back against the headboard. “Exactly that.”

You pumped his length in a steady rhythm, flicking your palm to enhance the sensation. 

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. Such a pretty boy. Your cock is so hard and ready for me.” 

He shivered at your words. He didn’t know how he got so lucky to have you hovering above him, breasts swaying with every movement of your hand. You were so good to him. When his gaze blinked from your breasts to your face, seeing you seductively smile but your eyes radiating a gentle sweetness, he started wondering if there might really be a God. You were too heavenly to be here on Earth, pleasing him like there was no better enjoyment in life.

Your eyes were fixed on his cock, watching his precum gather at the tip. You circled the sensitive skin with a soft stroke of your thumb. Spencer used the momentary distraction to dive in, his lips catching around your nipple. “Oh god,” you gasped in pleasure, the sensation going straight to your core. His tongue made quick work of stimulating the nub. His cheeks were hollowed as he sucked, giving his everything for the mere moments he might get of tasting you.

Spencer was internally grateful when you didn’t stop him. As a matter of fact, your fingers knotted through his hair as you tugged him closer to you. It helped him keep his balance as his still tied hands clenched around the air. 

He continued his kisses to the rest of your breast once he was confident enough that you wouldn’t tell him to stop. He sucked on the soft, full flesh, leaving marks that would remind you of this moment days from now.

“Look at you sucking on my tits. You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Such a little slut for me.”

He moaned around your nipple, a wave of need fluttering through your stomach. You pulled on his hair, sharp enough to leave a pleasurable sting of pain. “Look at me.”

Wide doe eyes met yours. “‘m sorry.”

“Too distracted by having my tits in your face to look me in the eyes, huh?”

“Sorry, you’re just too pretty,” he truthfully muttered, eyes fleetly falling onto your breasts before blinking back up.

He looked so pretty like this. A red flush painting his neck and cheeks. His lips were just as swollen and red as he pouted at you. A smug smile lingered on your face, and you pulled him back in, leaning forward to not have him stretch his neck too far. The kiss was sloppy, hungry. You were not able to tell whether his whimpers were because of the kiss, or because of your touch as your hand had found its way back to his cock.

You fastened the motions of your wrist. His mouth was parted, a pretty song of whines escaping. You sucked down on his bottom lip, mirroring the action he always did when kissing you. 

“Oh, baby.” The moan came out in a gasp. His hips started stuttering, stomach clenching as he neared his release.

“Are you almost there, Spencer?”

“Yes! I’m almost there, I’m almost there baby. Please don’t stop.”

You released your grip on him. His length remained hard, standing upright as if you were still holding him.

The desperate cry that left his lips should have made you feel bad. Instead, you found yourself getting even more turned on. Sure that your thighs were slick with your wetness by now.

“Why—why did you do that?” He whimpered accusingly, as if betrayed. “I was so close.”

“Ah, I know, baby,” you faux pouted. You had to bite your lip to hold back a sadistic smile as you noticed his glossy eyes, looking more green than they usually were.

“I’m just keeping you to your promise,” you reminded him. He tilted his head like a confused puppy. “When you told me you’d always make sure to make me come first.”

“But we weren’t—”

“Uh, uh, uh,” you shushed him, index finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t you want to please me?”

He softly kissed your finger, “Of course I do.”

“Then start using your mouth for better things than complaining,” you cooed at him before carefully standing up on the bed, making your way forward until his face was right below your cunt. Spencer wiggled on the sheets until he lay flat on his back, arms in a bit of an uncomfortable position, but not enough to bother him as he had a perfect view of your dripping pussy.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in a prayer. You softly chuckled, bending your legs so that they were spread on either side of his face. Slowly, you lowered yourself until his tongue, which was already sticking out, made contact with your folds. You hissed at the sensation, your clit throbbing in the same way it always did before he ate you out.

He started lapping at your pussy, gathering your sweet slickness and spreading it over the lips. He flicked his tongue over your inner lips before sucking on them. As much as Spencer adored giving you the reins, nothing compared to the shaky, uncontrollable whimpers that left your mouth. Sounds that were made because of him. Sounds that were made for him. 

“Keep making those sounds, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your pussy, the vibrations echoing through your body.

After more worshipping kisses to your cunt, his lips finally settled down on your clit. Your back arched when he started sucking on the sensitive button while simultaneously pressing on it with the tip of his tongue. He truly was your toy, no silicone object giving you the ecstasy that he could give you. 

“Oh God, Spencer. You’re so good at this,” you stated in a heavy breath. The feeling of your orgasm coming up was close to overwhelming, and you were whimpering as your vision hazed.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. Oh, fuck, I’m—”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence, instead crying out a moan as your release hit you. Your legs started shaking uncontrollably, your pussy pressed even harder against his mouth as you rode out the aftershocks, muffling his deep moans. The feel of his nose against your overstimulated cunt was dizzying. 

“I need to lie down,” you said, out of breath. Shaky Bambi legs as you climbed off of him. Your body didn’t allow you to move much further. Settling on lying down on top of his body, spreading your legs to give his achingly hard cock room to breathe.

Your cheek rested against his sweaty chest. Spencer reached out to trace your face, huffing in annoyance when he remembered his hands were still tied behind his back. 

He hummed when you pressed a wet kiss to his chest. “Finish for me, baby.”

Then you squeezed your thighs together. Spencer swallowed when he realized what you meant. His cock was enveloped between your plush thighs, and when he experimentally lifted his hips, he discovered how good the act felt. 

“Jesus, that’s nice,” he groaned. 

Wasting no time, he started pumping his hips up, using your thighs as a cocksleeve. The wetness that was gathered on your inner thighs (and was still dripping out of your pussy) working as lube. 

Your fingertips lazily trailed over his chest. “Doing so good for me, baby. Show me how good you can make yourself feel.”

He nodded, a whine leaving his lips as he fastened his speed. His eyes were transfixed on the curve of your ass, craning his neck to get a better look.

He’s never experienced a feeling as sentimental as this. The rough pleasure of the sex mixed with the gentleness of your head resting against him. He couldn’t get closer to Heaven than this.

“You feel so good,” he whined. “You’re not stopping me this time. Right?” He asked for confirmation, his voice shaking in doubt. 

You laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest. “That really took a toll on you, huh? I won’t, I promise.”

The slight tension in his body resolved. Making him feel enough at ease to let go. He placed his feet firmly on the bed, using his knees to lift himself up, making you let out a yelp as he fucked your thighs.

The silk wasn’t enough to hold him back, the fabric tearing as he moved his wrists. His hands immediately found your head, holding you against him as his hips stuttered. Your moans were entangled in each other as he spilled his cum all over your ass. 

His stomach clenched underneath you, and you soothingly shushed him. Reassuringly caressing his chest and shoulders as he came down from his height.

-`♡´-

“You okay?” You softly mumbled once his heartbeat had calmed down.

He nodded, a lazy smile displayed on his lips. “I’m okay.”

“I wasn’t too rough with you. Was I?”

“No,” he answered, holding you closely against him. “You were perfect.”

when are we getting part 3 of “anything for ellie”?

I PROMISEEEEE SOOOOOOONNNNN i just got a second job so i’m trying to work my writing into my days off but i’m exhausted most of the time now🫠 i promise, it will be out- i’m aiming for beginning of/mid march <33

joyce : hopper and i are getting married!

eleven : what is "married"?

hopper : it's what two people do when they both love each other very much.

*later on*

eleven : hey, mike? when are we getting married?

mike :

Too Much, Pretty Boy?

Summary: Spencer discovers that he not only has mommy issues but that they run deeper than he previously thought. You discover that you don't mind it one bit.

Requested fic!! 🥳: hey can you do a story with sub!spencerreid and softdom!reader and spencer has a mommy kink? oh and he whines and loves to be praised!

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. This is literally pure porn LMFAO whoops. Oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), overstimulation (both m and f receiving), unprotected p in v (don't do this pls pls), creampie, crying during sex (Spencer is pathetic and we love him for it), praise kink, mommy!kink, very brief mention of a safeword but it isn't used, sub!spencer x softdom!reader my beloved :') (Also!! This is a reminder that the pictures used do NOT depict how reader looks at all!! <3)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: So sorry for the brief unplanned hiatus but I am back :') Thank you so much to the anon who requested this! I'm so nervous posting it but I hope you guys like it <3 As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all MWAH!!

Never in his life did Spencer ever see himself developing a mommy kink. It was something he never could grasp the appeal of, having spent way too much time with his head in different psychology books and swearing he didn’t fit the criteria of someone with “mommy issues” (though the only person he was fooling was himself). Then he met you.

You were so kind. So nurturing. You made him feel safe. Loved. Wanted.

The first time it happened came as a complete shock to both of you.

A rough day at work had led you to be a bit more… demanding with your sweet boyfriend. Instead of the slow, tender kisses you’d usually greet him with when he came by your place, you’d all but shoved him onto the couch in your haste to scramble into his lap, eager to feel his lips against yours after everything you’d dealt with that day.

The noise of surprise he’d squeaked against your lips only spurred you on, desperate to hear more of the sweet sounds he could make.

“Sweetheart—“ Spencer mumbled against your lips, a low whine rumbling in his chest as you ground your hips down against his growing erection. His head tipped back to rest against the back of the couch when your lips began to trail down the column of his throat, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. “W-what’s this all about?”

You pulled away from him, leaving only enough space between your bodies to yank your shirt over your head and toss it carelessly to the ground. “Rough day.” Was the only grumbled response he got before your greedy hands continued to rip off every piece of clothing in your way.

The two of you had had sex before, having been together for almost a year. It had always been sweet and gentle, almost a little awkward as Spencer learned how to be intimate with you. You always let Spencer choose the position so he’d feel more comfortable as he explored his newfound sexuality, and he almost always chose missionary.

That night, you rode him into the couch so hard you learned that not only did he whimper like the sweetest whore on the planet (the man would almost bite through his lip before to stay quiet because he thought his noises were embarrassing), but that you much more enjoyed watching his pretty little mouth hang open while he gazed up at you in an almost trance-like state instead of him burying his face in the crook of your shoulder.

His hands, usually timid and shaky, now roamed your body shamelessly as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, groping and squeezing anywhere that he could while whining pitifully. You could tell he was close by the way his body was trembling underneath you, and you were right there with him, clenching around his cock and murmuring into his ear about how good he was making you feel. His hips began to rut up helplessly into yours, triggering both of your orgasms as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your ass and—

“I-I’m cumming, ah—MOMMY!”

You cried out, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as you rolled your hips against his to draw out both of your climaxes. Once you’d slowed to a stop, you pulled away with a breathless grin, only to immediately frown upon seeing Spencer’s shocked and shameful expression. Then it processed what he’d just screamed as he came.

“Hey,” you cooed, caressing his face gently as his eyes began to water and he averted his gaze. “Spencer… look at me, baby. It’s okay.”

“No it isn’t!” Spencer exclaimed, trying to sink into the couch and away from you as he scrubbed his face with his hands. “I-I just called you mommy, a-and you probably think I’m some freak loser now—“

“I thought it was hot.”

That had stopped his panicked ranting dead in its tracks, his brows furrowing as he eyed you skeptically, searching for any signs of deceit. Finding none, his shoulders relaxed a little, and he let his hands find your waist again. “Really?” He asked meekly, his face flushed from both embarrassment and exertion.

“Really.”

That night sparked a lengthy, much-needed, and long-overdue conversation that inadvertently changed the entire dynamic of your sex life (in the best way possible).

Which led to where you two were currently.

“Like this, mommy?” Spencer murmured against your skin, crooking his fingers and thrusting them harder.

“Fuck, baby— yes, just like that—“ you crooned, tightening your grip in his hair as you writhe in his lap. “So good for me, Spence. Such a good boy. God—“

Spencer had come home agitated out of his mind after a long case, stressed and exhausted. All he wanted was for you to take care of him. To make him feel better and forget—at least momentarily—all of the gruesome things he’d had to witness for the past two weeks.

And when the words “Please… I don’t want to think anymore. Just tell me what to do. Make it go away…” slipped from his mouth, you knew you’d be cruel if you didn’t do exactly that.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, a muffled whine vibrating against your skin and causing your breath to hitch. Your knees wobbled from where you were hovering over his lap, riding his slender fingers like your life depended on it. Your impending climax sent ripples of pleasure up your spine and all the way down to your curling toes, causing your moans to grow in both volume and consistency as you panted above him.

“That’s it, baby,” you panted, interrupted by your own obscene moan as his fingers repeatedly brushed against the patch of nerves capable of rendering you brainless. “I’m so close— Fuck!”

All it took to send you toppling over the edge of ecstasy was a few swipes of his thumb over your clit. Spencer pulled away from your chest to watch as your face screwed up in pleasure, a sight that he’d never grow tired of seeing. Your pussy clenched hard around his fingers, the sensation making his cock twitch in his slacks.

Spencer stared in rapt fascination, his hips bucking instinctively under yours as he whimpered, working you through your orgasm until you were grasping his wrist and shoving it away despite his protests. A breathy laugh made its way from your lips at the sight of his frown.

“Be a good boy and be still for me, hm? Can you do that for mommy?”

Spencer stilled immediately, his lips parting as he nodded eagerly. Once he'd stopped squirming, you gently patted his cheek before lifting from his lap with shaky legs. You caught his tie between your fingers and tugged it, the force pulling him from the couch with a soft, almost imperceptible whimper. Smirking, you led him toward the bedroom, the fabric of his tie taut in your grip.

The door opened with a creak, sending a pang of anticipation racing through Spencer's veins as he trailed behind you. His eyes followed you as you let go of his tie, turning to sit on the edge of the bed and motioning to the ground in front of you with a flick of your wrist. He sank to his knees between your spread legs, nuzzling into your touch when your fingers card through his hair.

"You're being so good," you murmured, a soft smile curling on your lips as you gazed down at him. "My pretty boy." Your hand slid from his hair to gently cup his face, your thumb tracing the curve of his cheekbone as you drank him in.

“Always wanna be good for you,” Spencer murmured, his breath tickling your skin as he turned his head to press his face into your inner thigh.

Your eyebrows raised as you chuckled, using your finger to tilt his chin up so he was facing you again. “Yeah?” You crooned, swiping your thumb along his bottom lip. “Show me just how good you can be then.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

The second he was given permission, his mouth was on you. Spencer was ravenous, licking into you as though he’d never experienced your taste before. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping them pried apart as his tongue circled your clit.

“God, you’re so good for me—Spence!”

The vibrations from his needy moans only added to your pleasure, his grip on your thighs the only thing keeping you anchored as he devoured you. He shifted slightly, just enough so that his nose brushed against your clit as he began to thrust his tongue inside of you.

Spencer lived for the praise that he could coax from your precious lips. Nothing was more rewarding than hearing your encouraging words, soft and full of warmth, urging him on.

Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him against you as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you. Your thighs trembled in his hold, and your mouth parted in a silent moan as your eyes squeezed shut. Spencer groaned into you, unrelenting in his ministrations as you fell apart, addicted to your taste and the way you moaned his name.

"Baby—"

"One more," he begged against your slick skin. "Please, mommy? You taste so good."

As tempting as it was, you shook your head and gently pulled him away, ignoring his soft protests. Your gaze flicked to his pout, and you raised an eyebrow before motioning for him to lie on the bed. "Really, Spencer?" you asked as you straddled him, your tone teasing but stern. "Are you going to complain? Because we can stop right here, and you can handle your problem alone. Is that what you want?"

Spencer shook his head frantically, a panicked look crossing his face at the thought of stopping. "No! Please, mommy, I'm sorry," he whimpered, looking particularly pathetic underneath you while he pleaded his case. "I'll be good, I swear—"

A high-pitched whine spilled from his lips as you spit into your hand before shuffling down his body, wrapping your hand around his neglected cock. "That's it," you cooed, stroking him in small, teasing motions. "There's my good boy." His hips bucked instinctively into your touch, causing you to pause while you shot a warning glance his way. "Are you going to be still and take what mommy gives you? Or am I going to have to stop?"

"I'll be still!" Spencer cried out, looking down at you with tears in his eyes. "I-I'll be still, please!"

A smirk tugged at your lips before you bent down to press a kiss to his flushed head in response. Your hand began to move again, his pre-cum mixing with your spit creating a lewd slick sound as your pace slowly increased. The hushed whines and moans slipping from Spencer's lips filled the room, and the sight of his nails digging into the sheets to keep himself from moving sent a sharp pang of warmth through you.

Your eyes remained on his face, admiring the relaxed drop of his jaw and the deep flush staining his cheeks. You knew he was close when his moans began to increase in volume and pitch, his chest heaving as his body began to tremble. Shifting forward, your mouth finds his while your hand continues its movements. "That's it, baby," you murmur against his lips, grinning at the whimper he lets out. "Cum for me, sweetheart."

Spencer groaned into your mouth, releasing his grip on the sheets to knead desperately at your breasts. That was all it took for him to gasp against your lips, a low keening sound bubbling in his throat as he spilled over your hand and his tummy. You broke the kiss to watch his face, your hand working him through his climax.

"O-oh—"

Spencer writhed as you continued stroking him slowly, using his cum as lube to aid your movements. His eyes were half-lidded, filled with a mix of confusion and desperation as he looked up at you, but you didn’t stop. His hands fell back to the bed, twitching as you increase your pace once more.

"Shh, sweet boy," you chuckled as he began to whimper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're okay. You can take it, can't you?"

A pathetic whine left his lips as he nodded. A tear slipped down his cheek from the overstimulation, leaving a shiny streak behind on his rosy cheeks. You and Spencer knew that he'd use the safeword if it were too much. But this is exactly what he wanted when he'd come home. He thrived on how you could turn him into nothing more than a tangled mess of limp limbs and tear-filled eyes, drowning in a pleasure so intense it erased every thought except you.

When his moans began to reach noise-complaint decibels, you clamped your free hand over his mouth to muffle them. “I know, baby. I know,” you murmured as he began to cry in earnest now, so overwhelmed with pleasure he couldn’t see straight. “You sound so pretty for me. But I can’t have you waking the neighbors, sweetheart.”

Spencer was close, his body thrashing underneath you as you continued your delicious torture on his sensitive cock. His brows were drawn together, glazed-over eyes locked on your face and kiss-swollen lips parted. He was so devastatingly beautiful like this—wrecked and desperate for release.

When you felt the tell-tale twitching signaling his impending release, an idea came to mind. With one final pump, you release your hold on him, hurriedly straddling his lap and sinking onto him before he can complain.

His eyes widen to an almost comical level before they roll back in his head. His hands fly up to grip your hips, a muffled shout of "Mommy!" against your palm being the only warning you get before his hips rut into you frantically. Seconds later, he's cumming so hard his vision whites out behind his eyelids and his ears ring.

"Good boy, Spence," you breathe, slowing your hips to a stop and petting his hair away from his forehead while he sobs. "You did so good, baby. So, so good." Easing off of him, you caress his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to his lips before leaving the room.

Spencer lays trembling in the bed, too weak to protest. His eyes remain closed, his chest heaving with each breath he sucks in. He’s unsure how much time has passed when a warm washcloth glides over his skin. He hums in response, and you know it's the closest thing to a thank you he can offer right now.

After he's cleaned up, you slide back into bed beside him, drawing him close. "Get some rest, sweetheart. I'll wake you for dinner," you murmur, your nails softly tracing patterns on his warm skin to lull him into sleep.

Only then does exhaustion fully claim him, a barely audible "I love you" slipping from his lips before he drifts into sleep, reassured that no matter how harsh and unforgiving his career may be, you’ll always be there to make everything okay.

Continued A/N's: AHHHH!!!! I've never written for a mommy kink before so I hope I did it justice LMAO! Again, thank you to the anon who requested this, it really helped me step out of my comfort zone and I loved that. <3 Reminder that my requests are still open btw ;)

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.

let me tell y’all … i eat this fic up EVERY TIME

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

RAHHHHHHHHH I NEEDD HIM JJFFJESYYTADK-

the eye of the beholder | s.r.

in which you and Spencer try a new method of sensory deprivation in the form of a blindfold

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: dom/sub dynamics, dom!spencer, sub!reader, sensory deprivation, blindfolded sex, fingering, protected p in v sex (condom), munch!spencer, lots and lots of pet names, aftercare, reader has loose hair, hickeys, nipple play, mild manhandling, laughgasms, (almost) coming untouched, explicit communication and check-ins word count: 3.54k a/n: thank you to the anon who asked if i could "become freaky again" you gave me the confidence to write this

Finding your back flat on his mattress wasn’t a scene that was new to you, everything about it felt familiar, the champagne-colored sheets that were just beginning to stick to your bare skin and the curtains that were haphazardly closed, blocking the sunlight from directly getting into the room and instead diffusing any harsh light from illuminating your actions.

The only part that felt foreign to you was the way Spencer kept pulling himself up, trying to sit up before finding himself entranced in your kiss and coming back down to you. Your arms were slung lazily around his shoulders, your legs separated in order to give him room to slot himself between them, and you periodically lifted your hips to add pressure between your core and his cock.

A low moan vibrated from his body into yours, and as you felt him lifting away from you again, you prepared yourself to drag him back, only to be met with a large hand placed on the side of your throat. Holding your neck with a startling gentleness, your eyes fluttered open to see Spencer, kneeling between your legs, an impish grin blooming on his face as he withdrew his hand, and his lust-blown eyes scanned your body. “Hey, pretty baby,” the sickly-sweet words slipped past his puffy lips.

Sexual frustration was no mystery to your relationship, sometimes going weeks without seeing each other, but it was hard to be frustrated now when he said such gentle things and looked at you as a fallen star. “Spence,” you sighed, lolling your head to the side and smiling softly. You shifted your hips on the mattress, and his eyes instinctively looked at your pussy.

Your sundress had rolled itself down to your hips, exposing what was surely a soaked pair of panties, stained with the slick of anticipation—a result of an hour of heavy petting in his bed. He groaned at the sight, “I want you.” Spencer’s voice was gruff from lack of use and, you assumed, a bit of exhaustion from his last case.

Humming, you raised your eyebrows at him, “You have me.” Mild confusion settled in your mind, wondering what about the situation seemed like you were anything but needy for him. “Spencer?” You said his name in a sing-song tone, trying to get his attention—you’d thought partial nudity would be enough.

“Can we try something new?” He asked, leaning back so his white t-shirt stretched thin across his chest. You nodded slowly, though, at this point in the evening, you would’ve agreed to almost anything he proposed. “I want to cover your eyes,” he explained, brown eyes skimming up and down your bare legs.

Your eyebrows rose in curiosity, “Like a blindfold?” Tilting your head to the side, you steadied your breathing so you could have a conversation with him. Sensory deprivation wasn’t entirely new to you, Spencer had a tendency to put your wrists above your head while he rutted into you, but you always had your eyesight.

He looked around him on the bed, patting at the rumpled comforter and mess of discarded clothing, “We don’t have a blindfold, but…” His voice trailed off while he picked up a familiar item from the bed, holding up his tie from the day between his index and thumb. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” you told him, propping yourself up on your elbows and bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s just… I’m not…” you fumbled through your words, groaning in frustration.

Spencer hummed understandingly, moving himself back so he was hovering over your body, “We can always try it, and if you don’t like it, all you have to do is let me know.” He gently nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, placing timid kisses along the column of your throat. “What are your concerns?”

Leaning your head to give him more access to your neck, you moaned softly at his little kisses. “Not being able to see what I’m doing,” you answered honestly. “What if I do something that looks stupid without realizing it? Or what if I accidentally poke you in the eye because I can’t see where you are?”

“I will keep an eye out for any roaming fingers,” he assured you. “And I don’t want you to worry about what you look like. You look particularly gorgeous today. That’s how we ended up in this position in the first place,” he reminded you, skimming a hand down your dress before resting it on your upper thigh.

Your face warmed at the compliment, “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you picked this dress out at the store, would it?”

Spencer groaned as he admired the fabric adorning your body once more, “I have incredible taste in sundresses.”

Soft giggles bubbled through your throat as you beamed up at him, knowing his master plan to put you at ease had worked. Your trust in Spencer was already well-established, and you knew at even the slightest hint of discomfort you could call it off. Even if you didn’t do it yourself, he’d be on high alert for any changes in your body. “Where’s the tie?” You asked, trying to act nonchalant when you knew what was coming.

He produced the purple silk again, holding it in front of you for you to see. Using his other hand, he pulled you to a sitting position and languidly dragged the fabric over your bare skin. Leaning forward, he kissed your cheek, dragging his lips down to press firm kisses along your jawline, “What’s the word, princess?” His breath ghosted against your skin, sending goosebumps sprawling across your arms.

Safeword flashed in your head like a neon sign, leaving your breath to catch in your throat while you eyed the makeshift blindfold expectantly, “Cactus.” The word was engraved into your brain at this point, Spencer made sure you’d remember it no matter how many orgasms deep you were into the evening. If you craned your head a little to the left, you’d be able to see the houseplant that had been the original inspiration.

“Good girl,” he whispered, a gravelly aspect to his voice beginning to appear. If you placed your hand on his slacks right now, you’d find his cock rock hard beneath the fabric.

While you eyed his bulge, his fingers delicately brought the tie to your face. He pulled your head down so he could tie it at the back of your head before placing a kiss over your hair and asking if it was too tight. You shook your head no.

In response, Spencer hooked a finger beneath your chin and lifted your head just as carefully as he’d pulled it down. “Use your words,” he urged, leaving his finger beneath your chin so you wouldn’t pull away.

“No,” you answered aloud that time. “It’s all good, baby.”

With your reassurance, he took the opportunity to drag his fingertips down the length of your body, starting at your shoulders and ending just below your knees. He brought his hands back to your shoulders and guided you back to the mattress. With your spatial awareness completely out the window, your heart pounded with every passing moment until your back met the sheets.

Spencer began the precarious mission of getting you out of your dress, moving your arm out of the way so he could undo the zipper along your ribcage. You tried to help, but he did the brunt of the work, guiding your arms out of the thin straps and tugging the dress down, “Lift your hips,” he hummed softly.

You obliged, arching yourself above the mattress so he could pull the fabric from your body, leaving you in your bra and underwear. Placing a hand over your ribcage, Spencer let you know where he was before bringing his lips to your chest. Along the cup of your bra, he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses on the flesh of your breasts. Your breathing deepened as the cold air met the ghosts of his kisses, you moaned softly when his arms went around your torso, pulling your back up ever so slightly so he could undo the hooks of your bra.

“Arms up, angel,” he directed you again, fingers skimming along your arms, so you didn’t have to worry about how much space you were taking up. With his other hand, he slipped his fingers beneath the gore of the bra and deftly pulled it off of your body, as he had hundreds of times before.

Even without your sight, you could tell your nipples were standing at attention in the cool air of your bedroom. As if you could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, you shuddered under his watchful gaze, face burning as he pulled your panties down your legs—gasping softly when the fabric separated from your wet core.

Spencer’s fingertips traveled up and over your navel, crossing above your ribcage until he’d taken each of your breasts in his hands, fingers expertly tracing circles around the peaked buds until you were writhing beneath him. “Poor baby,” he teased when you whimpered beneath him, your hips bucking involuntarily only to find disappointment when you didn’t find him hovering above you.

His lips attached themselves to your chest, gently massaging the tender flesh while sucking at your skin. Nipping gently at your skin, you were whining inconsolably at the sensation of him marking up your chest, taking the supple skin between his teeth before moving to an unmarred location. You moaned his name when he finally pulled away, but in the chaos of your own pleasure, you lost his location.

Shifting your hips slightly as you waited for his touch, you felt your breathing slow. Relaxing enough to part your thighs while wondering where he was. Periodically, your ears would perk up at the sound of fabric sliding, but the noises were so soft that you could disregard them.

Cold air was blown on your wet cunt, sending goosebumps flying over your thighs while warm arms wrapped around your thighs. Your boyfriend chuckled darkly from his new station between your legs. “Oh, honey,” he cooed, placing a soft kiss above your lower lips. “How are you doing?” Taking a moment from his relentless teasing to check in with you, his hand slipped beneath you, squeezing your butt affectionately.

Somehow, you were entirely out of breath, and he had barely touched you. You sighed contentedly, “I’m good. I need more,” you took a deep breath, “More of you.”

“Where do you want me?” He offered, skimming his thumbs over your bare thighs.

You hummed thoughtfully, “I have a feeling I’ll like what you were planning on doing just now.” You took your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation, your chest deflating when Spencer flattened his tongue and licked a fat stripe between your folds.

Instinctively, you tilted your head down to get a good look at what he was doing, briefly forgetting that your sense of sight was restricted before you realized you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t gauge what he was doing, nor could you see where his hands were at any given moment—it made your stomach bubble with anticipation. A loud moan was ripped from your throat when Spencer wrapped his lips around your clit, his tongue periodically coming between his lips to flick at the sensitive bud. His arms tightened around your thighs to prevent you from wriggling away from him, and you knew he wanted you to breathe through it. Your orgasm built hard and fast, and Spencer could sense it in the way your breathing hitched, and a whine slipped from your throat.

With his mouth sucking on your clit, your jaw slackened, and your hips fought against his grip while you came against his mouth. He kept you in place until your instinct was no longer to pull away from him but to grind your sensitive pussy against his mouth. Obliging you, Spencer’s lips separated from your clit, instead moving softly against your cunt, licking you as your hole spasmed around nothing. He worked you through your orgasm until he started building up another one, now unraveling his arm from its position around your thigh until his fingers were gently placed at your entrance.

“Shh,” Spencer whispered, and it was left to you to imagine how he looked at that moment. Entirely drunk on you, your slick encircling his mouth while he encouraged you to steady your breathing. “You’re doing so well. You look so pretty,” he murmured up to you.

You moaned softly, “Feels good,” you told him, referring to the way his fingertips were playing with your core, thumb skimming over your sensitive clit while his index finger tantalizingly swirled around you. “Spence,” you sighed his name once your walls stopped clenching, giving him the okay to proceed.

He wasted no time in slipping his finger into your wetness, you moaned at the feeling of being filled after hours of teasing, and when Spencer returned his mouth to your core, you responded by blindly searching for his head. Joy filled your chest when you found it, threading your fingers through his hair, the familiar motion bringing you comfort while his movements brought you mind-numbing pleasure.

Slowly, Spencer withdrew his index finger, waiting for half a beat before sliding it back in again, repeating the motion until he found a comfortable rhythm for the both of you. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel the mattress move beneath you as he rutted against it, the simple action of bringing you pleasure was getting him off, and when his tongue lapped against your swollen clit, a long moan vibrated from your throat. “Spence,” you moaned his name, gasping when he responded by adding another finger to the mix.

His hand maintained the rhythm, but he pulled his mouth away, replacing it with his thumb and resting his head on your abdomen, catching his breath while you lost yours. All coherency was lost in pleasure, leaving you gasping for breath as you desperately chased that second high, mindlessly babbling, “Please, please, please.” The words escaped from your lips so many times that they had lost any and all meaning.

“Are you gonna come again?” Spencer asked, a low gruffness to his voice as he nearly lost himself in his own pleasure, trying to get you to yours before he came untouched. You nodded, “Come on my fingers, baby. It’s okay, you can let go,” he assured you.

He pushed your hips back down as soon as they lifted off of the mattress, his fingers slowly moving in and out of you as the force of your orgasm pushed them out. “Fuck,” you gasped, feeling yourself return to your body. “Baby,” you mumbled, aimlessly grabbing at nothing in an attempt to get Spencer to come up to you.

“What’s wrong, angel girl?” He whispered gently, “What do you need?”

You hummed, tipping your chin back slightly, “Kiss, please.” You smiled softly when he responded by pressing his lips to yours, the tang of your own slick passing through as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. “I love you,” you murmured against his lips, nipping gently at the bottom one.

Tilting his head, Spencer placed his clean hand on your throat and deepened the kiss. “I love you,” he answered when he came up for air. His lips moved expertly against yours until you’d nearly wiped evidence of your actions from his mouth. “Do you think you have one more in you?”

You nodded, “Yeah,” you assured him, depending on your familiarity with his body to run your knuckles up and down his arms.

He left a pout on your lips when he pulled away from you, lost somewhere you couldn’t find by reaching your hands out. He was fiddling with something, and goosebumps found their way to your body in waves, your ears perking up like a bloodhound when you heard the familiar tear of a condom wrapper.

While you searched for him, his hand found yours with ease, guiding your hand to his cock. That way, you weren’t shocked when you felt his covered tip at your heat, it was as if you had brought it there yourself. The gentleness by which he did it surprised you, the care that he was taking only added to the warm feeling in your lower belly. “Oh,” you breathed when he filled you, moving slowly and stopping completely once he was fully sheathed in you.

Sometimes, you felt like you could stay like this forever, physically intertwined in the same way your souls were, but from the way Spencer was straining, you could tell he was holding himself back.

You’d feel it in the morning, but you hummed softly, “Fuck me.” Your voice was gentle, encouraging him to move in you, and he withdrew slowly before snapping his hips back to yours. “Yes,” you moaned in response, tilting your head back as he hoisted your legs up, bending you at your hips while continuously rutting into you.

“So good,” Spencer grunted, dropping his head in the crook of your neck while he fucked you, his hot breath steaming against your skin while you wrapped your arms around him. Your nails dug into his back as you felt the taut muscles flex with every thrust, “Fuck, baby.”

Trying to catch your breath to talk to him, you tightened your grip on his torso, “Come in me.” Your encouragement led him to moan directly in your ear, sending you into a spiral, “Spence…” your voice was a warning now, letting him know about your own impending orgasm.

He lifted himself up off of you. “I need to see you,” he said, haphazardly pulling your blindfold off. “I want to see you come on my cock,” he explained, resting his forehead against yours.

Your senses were overloaded when even the dim light of your bedroom blinded your eyes, leaving you to raise your hands and use them as blinders while the only noise that escaped your mouth was the steady “Ah, ah, ah,” that came with each thrust. There was no warning when you snapped, your thighs trembling around Spencer’s hips while your orgasm crashed over you. The overwhelming pulsing of your cunt while he continued thrusting into you made your head spin until his movements grew unsteady.

Gasping for air as Spencer spilled his cum into the condom, he dropped his head on your shoulder as you lifted your chin and caught your breath. Slowly, you drifted from being out of breath to being overjoyed, tiny giggles slipping from your swollen lips while Spencer pushed himself up on his arms and looked at you like you’d completely lost it. “I love you,” you told him through giggles.

“What is going on?” He asked, dumbfounded. Spencer slowly pulled out of you, and you winced slightly, but it didn’t interrupt the fit he thought you were having.

You opened your mouth to explain, but you couldn’t get the words out before you started laughing again. “You took the blindfold off,” you told him, watching him nod with confusion plain on his face. “You took the blindfold off,” you tried again, “Because you wanted to see my orgasm face.”

Rolling his eyes, Spencer tucked his hands beneath your back and pulled you into a sitting position, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while he carefully untied the silk fabric at the back of your head. Gently, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “It was worth it.”

A laugh caught in your throat, and Spencer jostled you like he thought you had stopped breathing. You sighed contentedly, relaxing your body into his. His comment wasn’t silly, it was sweet—in a remarkably horny way. You kissed his bare shoulder gently while he removed the tie from your head, careful not to remove any hair in the process. “I love you,” you echoed, smiling softly while he maneuvered your exhausted body so he could see your face.

“I love you too, silly girl,” he responded, frowning when his eyes scanned yours. “Did the tie hurt you?”

You shook your head, “No, the tie was fine Spence.” Self-consciously, you lifted your hands to your face and touched the apples of your cheeks.

His frown remained, “There are little marks on your face,” he explained, pulling your hands from your cheeks and holding them in his. “Do they hurt?”

“No,” you reassured him, “I promise. I’m not hurt,” you told him, not knowing how he’d react if you were in any pain. “I’m alright, honey,” you insisted.

Spencer still looked unconvinced, leaning forward and pressing dozens of tiny kisses over your face until you were lost in another fit of giggles. Each kiss on your cheek made you nearly shriek with joy until he slowed down and kissed your lips tenderly, “Do you want to take a bath?”

You hummed, “In a bit.” You slung your arms around his shoulders and rested on him, in response, he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, rocking ever so slightly.

SOMEONE ASKED ME SOMETHING AND IT GOT DELETED

FHFJDJDDJJDJDKDJDJDKDLSOFU AT JCJH sorry just smashed my head against the keyboard oops 🧍‍♀️

wip ask game!

i got tagged three times so i might as well hehe

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. tag as many people as you have wips. people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

• the sunflower in the graveyard (pt. 2)

• a very needed vacation

• free now (pt. 2)

• moon song

• you feel like home

@beenreidingaboutyou @cheriesbucky @reidrum <33