I’m Crying This Is So Soft 🥹

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

══════════════════

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."

══════════════════

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."

══════════════════

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.

══════════════════

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 !

BREEDING KINK GO BRRRR

Solace

Summary: Spencer’s away on a case. When he comes back you both find solace in bed together.

Tw! mdni, smut, pet name(angel), mentions of his addiction, breeding kink, fingering, p in v, unprotected penetration, creamp!e, dirty talk, mentions of getting reader pregnant, no sub dom dynamics although Spencer gives very much switch, that’s all? Ohh,, written with season 4 Spencer in mind.

Pairing: Spencer x gf!reader

W.c: 1.3k

A/N: hey guys!! I missed posting and it’s currently 9am. I’ve had awful writers block recently, but this idea struck me, thankfully 😅 ALSO- I’m so close to 200 followers(thank y’all!!) comment ideas of things you would like to see for a 200 follower event!! (I know 200 is a small number but I’m so thankful)

You and Spencer had been dating since the start of his career at the BAU. To say you and him had been through a lot together was an understatement. You had been his rock through his addiction, you had helped him overcome it. Spencer couldn’t have been more grateful for you for sticking by his side through the highest highs and the lowest lows.

Spencer’s addiction didn’t make you view him any different; it in fact made you see him as a strong and courageous person because he had gotten through it. He still had his moments of weakness, but when he experienced those moments he came running to you; you both had been inseparable.

It wasn’t long after you both had started dating that you moved in together. You both shared an apartment adorned with deep green walls, a few meaningless picture frames, and several book shelves filled with hundreds, if not thousands of books. It wasn’t particularly your cup of tea but he loved it so you loved it.

You worked at a bookstore full time so when Spencer wasn’t away on cases, he got home not long after you did. But sadly enough, Spencer had been away on a case for nearly a week. You were working a shift at the bookstore and you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You look around before checking it; it’s from Spencer, ‘Finished the case, should be home around six. I love you.’ Your face lit up and you immediately replied, ‘Yay! I miss you so much, I get off of work at six-thirty. I love you too!’ You quickly type back and put your phone back into your pocket.

It’s six-thirty now and you’re closing down the bookstore. After you finish closing you walk outside to your car and drive to get Chinese takeout for you and Spencer.

Once at your apartment building you get your key out and unlock the apartment door. You walk in and find Spencer sitting on the couch and, as usual, has a book in his hands. He hears you and closes the book, he immediately stands up and walks over to you. You sit down the takeout boxes and your bag and throw your arms around him. “I missed you so so much” you whisper. “I missed you too angel” he says back softly, as he places a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You and Spencer eat the Chinese takeout at the dining table and talk about the last week apart from each other. Once you’re both done you put up the leftovers and you both go change into pajamas.

Around 9:30 you both go lay down together. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you impossibly close to him; one of many things you missed when he was away. A smile spreads across your lips and you nuzzle against him. His hand starts wondering up and down your back, mindlessly, really he just wanted to feel of you.

His hand dips down to your waist and you involuntarily shiver, he notices and chuckles softly. “Someone’s awfully sensitive.” He whispers. You look into his eyes and smile, “I can’t help it. I missed having your hands on me” you say back, in a soft whisper.

He chuckles again, “Not even a week without me and you’re so needy.” He says back, smiling. You smile and let out a soft hum. He dips his head and presses his lips against yours. You kiss him back with need and desire. After a few moments you pull back and look into his eyes, with blown pupils. He smiles and climbs on top of you, his body resting between your thighs. He kisses your lips again, this time meeting your lips with equal need and desire.

After a few moments he breaks away and starts kissing along your jaw and down your neck, while his fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts and he pulls them down your legs. A soft whimper escapes your lips due to the feeling of so many things happening at once; it’s like an overdrive to your system after almost a week of no physical contact with him. He slips your shirt over your head and kisses down your collar bone, over your chest, just between the peaks of your breasts, and down your stomach and stops just above the waistband of your panties.

He hooks his fingers in your panties and he slowly slides them down your legs before he brings his hands to your knees to spread your legs. He runs his hands up and down the insides of your thighs as he looks deep into your eyes. He guides his hand to your core and ghosts his fingers over you. You look into his eyes as a low whimper escapes your lips. He slides a singular finger between your folds, collecting your slick, then he presses his finger inside of you. After a few moments he adds a second finger and you moan softly. He pumps his fingers in and out of you while doing a “come here” motion. It’s almost too much already and you bite down on your lip.

He looks down at you in awe, seeing how you react, just from his fingers, seeing how quickly he can bring you so close to the edge, it’s one thing he would never be able to quite wrap his mind around. Your hand flies up to grab onto his arm for some stability, “Fuck, I’m coming Spence” you moan out, as your legs tremble and you clench around his fingers.

He smiles down at you and withdraws his fingers from you. He quickly rids himself of his clothing and reinterred his position before. You wrap your legs around his waist and he pumps his cock in his fist a few times before he looks up at you again for permission. You nod eagerly and he leans over you, he slides his cock up and down your folds, gently running the tip over your sensitive clit. You suck in air and let out a moan at his actions. He smiles and guides himself back down to your entrance.

He slowly and carefully pokes the head just inside of your entrance which makes his body shudder just a bit. “Fuck” he breaths out. You bite down on your lip and he slides into you to the hilt. He takes a moment to still his already trembling body. “Feel s’ good, so tight.” He says, with a soft whimper. He rests his elbows on either side of you as he buries his face into your neck. He thrusts his hips, slowly and gently quickens the pace, he pulls out almost all of the way before thrusting back into you. “Oh shit, Spencer” you moan, as you throw your head back.

He whimpers against your neck, “Gonna fill you up, gonna put a baby in you.” He says, softly with a moan. You can only respond with a whimper, as your mind and body have entered a blissful state. You manage to wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to thrust inside of you at a faster and harder rate. “S’ close Spence” you whimper.

“I’m right there, gonna fill you up” he whimpers out softly. He hits the spot that makes you go stupid and your head falls back, your eyes roll back, and your legs begin to tremble. “Fuck, Spencer!” You cry out as you clench your warm walls around his cock. He lets out a strangled moan, his thrusts become sloppy, and he lets his warm seed spill inside of you. As he cums he keeps himself buried inside of you as whimpers and cries escape his lips.

After a few minutes he pulls out, his body still buzzing with sensitivity. He lays down beside you and wraps his arm back around you. He places a kiss to your temple. “I love you angel.” He whispers. “I love you too Spence.” You whisper back.

whatever lana del Rey say in cola ꪆৎ

I Lived x Dead Fictional Characters

as much as i fw rough dom!spencer fics- this is soooo accurate. that’s why he’s always a soft dom in my fics 💁‍♀️

Yk what upsets me… when people write sex w post-prison Spencer as rough. I feel like he’s arguably be so much softer and hold you like you were breakable.

1. Because he’s missed you so much, and he never wants to feel that desperation at not knowing if he’d ever get to be truly intimate with you again.

2. He’d want comfort and consistency.

3. He’s gone through so much he would want to shield you from ever having to experience the brutality he has, which leads him to being super careful.

4. Sex is an extremely vulnerable act where he doesn’t have to have his guard up, and doesn’t require him to make his feelings.

Now that wouldn’t stop him from being more assertive and dominating if you wanted him to be, but he’d never be rough. I think he’d be 100% down for overstimulation, and it would give him a sense of control without hurting you, plus he would love when you would cry because he knows he’s making you feel so good. He’d ABSOLUTELY hate choking (it would be extremely triggering) or slapping or anything remotely violent at all.

Will be returning to these thoughts.

the people have spoken! smut it is 🙈

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.

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.

this is what i imagine for switch!spencer like mans is pathetic but will also eat you alive 🤭

trying hard not to get into trouble (but i’ve got a war in my mind) - s. r.

in which your criminology professor is just too tempting. 3359 words.

switch!spencer x switch!fem reader, questionable age gap & power dynamic, mild exhibitionism, authority kink, brief choking, praise, semi-public sex, oral (f and m receiving), mild degradation, no use of y/n

Your bare thighs stick uncomfortably to the plastic lecture hall chair, and you shift in your seat. Still, you focus diligently on the lecture, or, more specifically, on your professor. Dr. Reid is your favourite kind of challenge, a man you can’t have, the kind who won’t compromise his morals no matter how much he wants you — or, thinks he won’t.

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on you just a second too long, flickers down to your chest before he catches himself. Toying with him is the highlight of your week, coming up with new ways to torture him, push his boundaries as far as you can before he snaps. The semester is drawing to a close, though, and you haven’t quite snared your pretty professor yet, so you’re having to resort to drastic measures.

It’s like he’s deliberately avoiding you, eyes sliding over you as if you’re not even there. You hope that means your barely-there outfit is working as intended. Dr. Reid refuses to call on you to answer a question, stuttering through his sentences and raking his hand through his unkempt curls. You wonder if they’re soft to the touch, if he likes having them pulled, if— Focus. You raise one hand, digging through your bag with the other. When his attention is finally on you, you spout off some stupid question that’s believable enough not to arouse suspicion; he sees right through it, though, knows the ruse.

Out of politeness, Dr. Reid keeps his focus on you as he speaks. His words come out rapid-fire as if he’s trying to escape you before you do any more damage. It only makes him stumble more, and his struggle is frankly adorable. His reaction as you wrap your lips around a cherry-flavoured sucker is audible, a hitch in his breath and a waver in his voice as you smile innocently around the candy. From then, he can’t take his eyes off you, watching your red-stained tongue lap at sticky sugar, fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

Leaning back in your chair, you smirk slightly, wait to draw his attention. When he meets your gaze, you spread your legs, give him a deliberate eyeful of the tiny scrap of lace between them. At that, you physically see him snap, rail against the constraints of his moral compass, finally, gloriously give in. A thrill skitters up your spine as he stops in front of your desk. “See me after class,” he murmurs, jaw clenched.

“Yes, Professor,” you breathe, licking your lips as your thighs clench under the table.

You linger as your class lets out, carefully reapplying your lipgloss while you wait for the room to empty. When you’re finally alone, you approach his desk cautiously. “You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?” you say delicately, suddenly uncertain — you might just be in for the reprimand of your life, and that’s no fun for anyone.

“If you’ll just come with me to my office,” he says tightly, staring resolutely past you as he stands from his desk. Desire pools under your skin, your every nerve alive with tension as Dr. Reid lets you into his office. The sound of the lock clicking shut falls straight between your thighs — that’s when you know you’ve got him. You sit demurely in his armchair, legs crossed as he puts as much distance between the two of you as possible, standing across the room with his arms folded protectively across his chest. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my classroom.”

You smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” you say, putting on a wide-eyed, naive look you’re sure he won’t fall for. Unconsciously, he steps towards you. 

Dr. Reid’s gaze is unreadable. “Really? That little stunt with the sucker, I— I know what you’re doing, and it has to stop, okay?” he says, and, oh. He’s the one pleading with you.

It makes sense, once you think about it. You know he used to be an FBI agent; a dangerous, high-stress job like that, it’s no surprise he’d want to shut off, hand over the control, be taken care of, entrust his pleasure entirely to someone else. “Why would I stop?” you pout. He’s close enough now that you could reach out and touch him. “I’m having so.” You take Dr. Reid’s tie delicately between your fingers. “Much.” You pull him in gently. “Fun.” You tug sharply on his tie, hard enough that he stumbles, bracing his hands on the arms of your chair.

He lets out a shaky gasp, like he’s expecting you to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole. “This is… The, uh…” He clears his throat. “The way you’re acting in my class is not appropriate, and it needs to stop,” he says. You’d almost call it firmly, if not for the near-imperceptible tremor in his voice.

You note that he hasn’t pulled away. “I don’t think you want me to stop, Professor,” you murmur. “I think you want me to stop teasing you, and you want me to give you what you want.” Your smile widens the longer he stays silent; searching for the words to refute you, but the lie won’t come. “Tell me what you want, Doctor Reid,” you purr.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “You aren’t… It’s not…”

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this,” you breathe, catching his jaw so he can’t look away.

His mouth opens, but no words come out, speechless in a way you’ve never seen him. “I… I’m twenty years older than you.”

You grin. “And?”

“I’m your teacher,” he protests, nearly a whine, and oh, isn’t that a delicious sound.

“So?”

“So?” Dr. Reid repeats, incredulous. “I can’t… have sex with you in my office!” he hisses, low as if someone might be listening in.

Your grin only widens, and you pull him down towards you, so close that his breath skates across your lips. He twitches nervously, like you’re close to breaking him, like he’s this close to doing something he’ll regret. “But you want to,” you murmur, cupping his jaw and letting your fingers trace his cheekbone. “Tell me, Professor… When was the last time you had something just because you wanted it, hm?” He shudders, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll take real good care of you, sir, I promise.”

With a strangled groan, he gives in. The kiss is sudden, harsh like he’s furious with you for pulling him in like this. Soft lips give way to sharp teeth, greedy tongues, slotting together like you were moulded for him. Your hand slides up into his hair, tangling in his curls as you kiss him harder. A moan slips from your lips when you pull away for air, and the sound seems to drive him well and truly into madness. His lips meet yours with a renewed hunger, resting a hand at your jaw when he breaks away.

Spencer (you’ve just had your tongue down his throat, for God’s sake, you’ve earned the right to call him by his first name) strokes his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing down at you with awe and disbelief written across his face. He sucks in a sharp breath when you close your lips around his thumb, lapping at it just like the sucker from earlier. “You’re trying to kill me,” he breathes.

Releasing his thumb with a slick pop, you laugh. “Is that what you think?” You stand up, press your body into his. Spencer nods warily. “You’d know. If I was trying to kill you, I’d do something like this,” you murmur, sliding your hand up his throat and pressing down softly. His eyes flutter closed in surrender, and a filthy, spit-slick grin spreads wide across your lips. “You like that? Good boy,” you say silkily, letting go of his throat as he nods. “You gonna let me take care of you, Professor?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, and when you let your gaze wander away from his flushed face and down his body, your lips part softly at the sight of him straining against his pants. You dip your head to kiss his neck, wishing you could bruise, make him yours, but you restrain yourself.

Rough carpet grazes your knees as you sink to the floor, hands coming up to work his belt open. You kiss him through his pants, slide his zipper down with your teeth. Spencer whines, and the sound sends a pulse of arousal through you. “So needy, sir,” you croon, slowly pulling him free of his boxers. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen, thick and hard in your palm, drooling precum as you lean in to kiss the tip. The salt taste of him fills your mouth and you moan involuntarily, his hips twitching as you pump his cock slowly.

Hands thread into your hair, but the touch is gentle, reverent, born from need rather than demand. Not that you’d say no to his manhandling you, but you get the sense that’ll take some time. “If you want something, it’s polite to ask,” you tease, holding Spencer’s hips when he tries to fuck into your hand.

“Fuck, please,” he hisses, and the obscenity slides deliciously up your spine. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so gorgeous down there. I want you so badly, I just— please?” Spencer whines, and he sounds so sweetly pathetic that you take pity on him, wrap your lips around his head. The moan that falls from his lips is made of pure lust, and you shiver, arousal dripping between your thighs.

You suck and lick at him, eager and teasing, moaning as the taste of him fills your mouth. Spencer trembles with the effort of holding still, not fucking up into your mouth, and his hands unconsciously tighten in your hair. “You can be a little rougher, if you want,” you say, sliding your palms up his clothed thighs and taking him in your mouth again. You moan around him as his cock bumps the back of your throat, swallowing a gag with practiced ease.

Spencer’s hand curls into a fist in your hair, your stomach clenching in anticipation. The gentle sting when he tugs just a little buzzes under your skin, and you moan enthusiastically around him, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper. “Fuck,” he whines, hips jerking forward until his cock bumps the back of your throat. Heat throbs between your legs as he twitches on your tongue, and you can tell from the sounds he’s making that he’s close. 

You double your efforts, pulling off to lick around his head and drip spit along his length. Arousal throbs in your belly, hips grinding down against nothing. Slowly, you take him all the way back in, moan low in your throat when he’s buried to the hilt. You trace your tongue across the vein throbbing on his underside, and Spencer lets out the sweetest, most desperate little whimper you’ve ever heard. “I- I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck, baby, oh, my God,” he gasps, needy and adoring.

His voice trembles as he begs, so soft you’re not sure he knows he’s speaking aloud, and the way he pleads your name, fuck. Time blurs around you, your head goes hazy, pleasure knotting itself deliciously around your insides. Spencer gives a strangled moan, a garbled sound that might be your name, and that’s all the warning you get. You swallow greedily as he spills on your tongue, twitching and moaning and praising you through short, gasping breaths.

He’s still twitching with the aftershocks as you pull off, kneeling to smile blithely up at him. Spencer’s eyes are wide, sparkling with adoration as he struggles for breath. “How was that, Professor?” you tease. “Do I get an A?”

He gives a groaning sort of laugh, pulls you to your feet. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, still gazing into your eyes. It’s disarming, and you get the distinct impression he can read what you’re thinking as plainly as if it were stamped on your forehead. “Come here, come on,” he adds, pulling at your hips and pressing your body into his. You’re almost shocked when he kisses you, hard and greedy and hungry, the most aggressive he’s been this entire time. He sanitises his damn desk three times in a class, for God’s sake — you’d half expected him to hand you a toothbrush when you stood from the floor.

And yet, he’s kissing you breathless, and his hands are tangled in your hair, and his body is pressed so close to yours that you can barely tell where you end and he begins. “Thank you,” he mutters against your lips. “That was incredible. You’re incredible. You’ve gotta let me— Come here, sit,” he says, guiding you to sit on his desk. You balance between scattered papers, an uncapped pen bleeding a black stain into your skirt. 

“Let you do what, Doctor?” you say, quiet and breathy, gazing up at Spencer with wide, adoring eyes.

Spencer smiles, and something warms in your chest at the sight. Long, delicate fingers trace along your thigh, push up your skirt until your panties are on full display. “Pretty,” he remarks, maddeningly casual. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Of course, sir. I don’t dress up for boys anymore.” You swallow, bite your lip. You decide to lay it on a little thicker. “See, I need a man.”

“Is that so?” Spencer murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Your heartbeat quickens, excitement throbbing between your legs as he drags them down. “Look at you, sweet girl. So wet. Is that all from sucking my dick?” he teases, and you shudder.

You don’t know where the sudden obscenity, sudden dominance came from, but it thrills you all the same. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “What are you gonna do about it?” Smirking, Spencer picks up your panties, lets them dangle from his fingertips, red lace starkly incongruous from the calm, studious background of his office.

After a beat, his grin turns wicked and he tucks them into his pocket. “Safekeeping,” he says, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. The movement is so tender that it stops you in your tracks, a shimmering thread of something more than simple desire stringing between you. His eyes glitter, and you know he feels it too. Then, long fingers start to work at the buttons of your blouse. “I want to see all of you,” Spencer says, bending his head to kiss your lace-clad breast as your shirt falls open.

His hand skates up your thigh, oh-so close to where you need it. “Please,” you breathe. “Please, sir. I need you.” Spencer draws his hand away and you whine pathetically, your bare thighs suddenly impossibly cold.

“Be patient, sweet girl,” he says, low and almost dangerous. A thrill skitters up your spine as he sinks to his knees, gazing intently at your dripping wet core. “Beautiful,” he mutters, so quietly you don’t even think he’s talking to you. His hands slide up to your thighs again, spreading them apart gently. “Are you gonna let me taste you, beautiful?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering at his words. He kisses the inside of your knee, works his way down your thigh. A brief, bright spark of pain flickers through you as Spencer sucks a bruise into your skin and you moan. A rush of incredibly gratifying heat washes over you when you realise he’s marking you; a hidden little secret lying just beneath your polished exterior. Spencer won’t be able to see anything else when he looks at you. 

He pulls away from his assault on your thighs to look up at you, doe-eyed. “Tell me you want this. Please. I need to hear you say it.” You shudder, closing your thighs around his head and threading a hand into his curls so he can’t drag himself any further away.

“Spencer,” you moan. His eyes blow wide at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please. I need you,” you breathe. “Need you to make me cum, sir, please. Haven’t I been good for you? Don’t I deserve it?” You bite your lip to muffle a scream when Spencer leans in, licks a broad, flat stripe along your soaked core.

He’s methodical, at first, and you know somehow that he’s carefully cataloguing your responses. His tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first and then faster, pressure mounting between your thighs. Spencer moans into you, shifts his hips, and you realise: he’s getting off on this. A jolt of arousal so strong you literally pulse against his mouth rips through you, and you feel his lips curve into a smirk.

Big, soft hands dig hard into your thighs, pulling you flush against him like he could bury himself in you. “You taste so good, baby,” he whines, pressing his tongue flat against your hole as you grind your hips forward. Pleasure curls under your skin, swelling and pressing against your organs, crowding your mind until you can’t think, can’t feel anything but him. Your toes curl in your shoes, stomach clenching as your orgasm builds and builds. Breaking away, Spencer presses tender little kisses to your inner thighs, licks soothingly over his bite mark. 

Just as you’re starting to whine at the loss, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Sudden, electric ecstasy shoots through your body when he sucks on your sensitive nerves and it’s all you can do not to scream his name for the entire campus to hear. “Oh, fuck,” you whine instead, rocking your hips in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “M’so close, sir, please— You gotta let me— fuck!” you gasp, cunt clenching as he slides two fingers into you. You’re so wet that it’s easy, a slick slide as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Look how well you take me,” he says, staring openly at the point his fingers disappear into your body, your greedy cunt parted around them as wet, obscene noises fill the room. He kisses your clit softly and your legs kick out. “You’re gonna look so pretty taking my dick, hm?”

Your mind goes blank, pleasure thudding sickly in your throat, humming in your ears. “I want it,” you whine. “God, I want you to fucking— mmm— bend me over this desk ‘n— fuck— make me all stupid for you. Oh, God, Spencer, m’so close!” you cry, tugging at his hair and writhing helplessly.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Spencer says, softly urging. “Cum for me.” He pumps his fingers, licks at your clit, gently coaxes you over the edge. Your hands white-knuckle the edge of the desk as pure pleasure washes over you. Your body slumps, weak and powerless against the weight of your orgasm ripping through you. Spencer doesn’t let up, smiling into you as you write above him, murmuring soft praises that fade into a low buzz against your pulse hammering in your ears.

Spencer’s lips and chin glisten with your arousal, still kneeling between your legs as you struggle back to your body. “That was… Shit, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand,” you giggle, testing your weight as you shuffle off his desk. Spencer leans down to kiss you, and the taste of yourself on his lips is dizzying. Pouting, you glance up at the clock hanging over his door. “I have class.”

As much as he wants to, Spencer won’t tell you to cut class, and you both know it. “Would you like to, uh…” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and just like that, he’s back to the sweet, nervous academic you’re used to. “Continue this discussion later? I’ll— I’ll be here all day.”

Your lips stretch wide in a saccharine smile as you slowly button your shirt. “Why, Doctor Reid, are you asking me to meet you after hours? How scandalous,” you giggle, pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss against his lips. “I’ll be back at six.”

…… i have nothing appropriate to say 🫣