Naughty Boy

“Louder.”

😀 SIR I WILL SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS—

𝚁𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢.

𝙷𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑.

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𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝 (𝟷𝟾+)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: ~𝟸,𝟽00

𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝 | 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢:

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜—𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛

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Spencer was pacing.

Not the nervous kind of pacing—more like slow, calculated orbiting.

He’d been watching you get ready for the last seven minutes and forty-two seconds. You hadn’t noticed at first. You were too busy standing in front of your vanity, applying earrings, smoothing down the satin of your dress.

But now you were definitely aware.

Because every time he passed behind you, his eyes lingered a little longer. His fingertips flexed. His lips parted like he was holding back a hypothesis he wasn’t ready to test aloud.

The dress was red. Of course it was red.

You reached up to adjust your earring, and that’s when he stopped. Right behind you. Close enough to feel.

“You know,” he said quietly, “in over sixty-five percent of controlled visual studies, men identified red as the most arousing color a woman could wear.”

You didn’t turn. Just met his gaze in the mirror.

Spencer licked his lips, hands twitching at his sides. “Something about the neurological association with warmth, intensity, fertility… They don’t always know why they respond. But they do. Viscerally.”

You arched a brow. “Is that what you’re doing? Responding viscerally?”

He stepped closer—just one pace—and placed his palms lightly at your hips.

“No,” he murmured. “What I’m doing is falling apart.”

You laughed softly, adjusting the other earring. “Over a dress?”

“Not just the dress,” he said, voice dropping a full octave. “The neckline. The hemline. The color. The shape. The way you’re… not even trying to look at me right now, and it’s still driving me out of my mind.”

You glanced at his reflection. “I’m pretty sure you’ve memorized all of me.”

“I have,” he breathed. “But you keep redefining the data.”

He leaned in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck.

“Want to know what else I read today?” he asked against your skin.

You didn’t answer.

“Eighty-seven percent of women,” he continued, “report fantasizing about being touched like this.”

One hand slid from your hip up your stomach. He didn’t grope. He traced. Like mapping sacred geometry.

“Standing in front of a mirror,” he whispered, “watching a partner look at them like they’re art.”

His other hand followed, now brushing just under the curve of your breasts. “Told they’re perfect. Worshipped. Known.”

You exhaled shakily. His eyes flicked to your reflection—every microreaction cataloged, filed.

“Is that what you want?” he whispered.

Your body gave you away. It arched. Your thighs pressed together.

Spencer inhaled sharply. “Thought so.”

He brought both hands higher, fingertips ghosting over your chest as his lips hovered just beside your jaw.

“Say it,” he said gently.

You blinked. “Say what?”

He met your gaze in the mirror. “Say you’re my pretty girl.”

You swallowed, cheeks flushing.

“Spence—”

“Say it,” he murmured, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “Please.”

Your lips parted. The words were hesitant, but not shy.

“I’m… your pretty girl.”

He let out a shaky breath like it hurt to hold it in. “Yes. You are.”

His right hand slid lower, past your navel, until it was between your thighs—touching lightly, still through fabric. He didn’t move. Just cupped. Pressed.

You jolted slightly at the contact, gasping as he whispered directly into your ear.

“Say you’re the only thing I think about when I’m alone.”

You choked on a breath.

“Spe—”

“I do. Constantly. In hotel rooms. In elevators. On planes. Every quiet moment, it’s you.”

His fingers moved slightly, circling now. Pressure light. Intention razor-sharp.

“Say it.”

Your eyes fluttered. “I… I’m the only thing you think about.”

He smiled. “Good girl.”

Your hips bucked into his hand.

“I want you to look at yourself,” he said softly. “See what I see.”

You tried, gaze wavering.

“I said look.”

Your eyes returned to the mirror.

“There,” he whispered. “That’s my girl. That’s my pretty, dangerous girl who knows exactly what she’s doing when she wears red.”

You whimpered. He smiled.

And then he touched you for real.

His fingers slipped under your panties, and you cried out softly—but his hand over your chest, and the way he held your gaze, kept you grounded.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s just me. Just my hands. Just this body I’d do anything for.”

You moaned softly as his fingers circled your clit. He moved slow. Measured. Intentional.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “how many other men could touch you like this and get this response?”

Your mouth opened. No sound.

“None,” he answered for you. “Because your body already knows who you belong to.”

He kissed your neck again, sucking lightly below your ear.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Say it.”

You moaned, back arching into him.

“I’m yours,” you breathed.

And God—he grinned.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Spencer.”

His fingers moved faster. “Louder.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

“Yes,” he groaned. “And I’m yours.”

His hand didn’t stop until your legs trembled and your breathing hitched, your head falling back against his chest.

He kissed your temple. Whispered your name like prayer.

Then, slowly, he pulled away. Smoothed your dress. Fixed your hair.

“Now we can go to dinner,” he said softly, smirking.

You turned and stared at him. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “Statistically? Probably.”

“But also? You love it.”

"I choose to stay silent"

The face i stay silent with:

already told lover this but as a big chested woman, thank you for doing god’s work 🫡

MORE TO LOVE

In which Spencer proves to you how much he loves your big breasts.

pairing spencer reid x gf!reader genre smut (18+) cw reader has big breasts and is insecure bc of porn standards, just 6k words of tit worship: tit play, tit sucking, tit fucking. lots of teasing, oral (f receiving), p in v, cum play, creampie, reader wears a dress and lingerie, spencer is clingy and horny, spencer and reader are slightly tipsy, soft!dom!spence wc 6,3k a/n for my big tit girls <3 i hope someone can relate to this, and if you don't, i hope you can still enjoy! thank u lovely @esote-rika for proofreading

Everyone who’s had the honor of meeting Spencer Reid in an informal setting is aware of the fact that he isn’t a drinker. You’d score an indefinite amount of points in his book if you have something besides alcohol to offer. And Spencer isn’t picky — some trail mix in a bowl works as a good enough replacement. 

So, being surprised was an understatement when Spencer suggested coming to the bar where you were having drinks with your friends. The case he was on got wrapped up quicker than anticipated. He was about to walk to your apartment to spend the night with you when he remembered you were out with friends. 

It was the plan to pick you up and walk you home, making some light conversation with your friends while he was at it (for the amount of months you’d been dating, he should invest more time in getting to know the people who are close to you). He hadn’t planned on drinking, even surprising himself when he downed the two shots of liquor that one of your friends handed him. But he had no choice. Not when he walked into the bar and noticed you dancing in the crowd. Not when you were wearing that tiny black dress that was on his mind ever since he’d found it in your closet. Not when you turned around, your eyes twinkling and a bright smile tugging at your lips when you noticed him. And certainly not when his gaze had lowered and landed on the cleavage that was close to spilling out of your dress. He truly needed the liquid courage to get through the night. 

Now, standing on the corner outside of the bar, waiting for an Uber, you didn’t even notice the cold of the night as your body buzzed with the warmth of alcohol in your system combined with Spencer’s touches. He stood close to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he pressed gentle kisses to the curve of your neck — acting uncharacteristically clingy now that there’s alcohol in his system. 

“So this is the real reason why you don’t drink, huh?” You ask Spencer in a chuckle, feigning annoyance while actually feeling very flattered by his sudden clinginess, which he rarely displays when sober. 

“You’re just so pretty.” He says in a lack of a better explanation. 

He had his palm placed flat on your stomach, the heat of him radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed the soft skin before his hand moved up your body at a concerningly fast speed.

“Hey there, mister,” you say in a playful warning, placing your hand on top of his to stop him in his tracks. “We’re still in public. Remember?”

He grumbled some incoherent words as his fingers toyed with the underwire of your bra.  “I like this dress.”

You smile, a flush creeping up your neck, glad he can’t see how much you’re enjoying this. “Yeah?” 

He hums in confirmation. “I’d like it even better off of you.”

The flush has now found its way to your cheeks, heating your skin as your heartbeat raced.

He presses a kiss to your jawline. “Bet you’d look so pretty.”

Your cheeks were on fire at this point. The butterflies in your stomach set free. 

“Want to see you naked.”

Then, everything comes to a halt.

“N-naked?”

He nods against your neck, his soft curls nuzzling you. 

Spencer doesn’t notice the way you tense up. To be fair, he’s not noticing any of his surroundings, completely focused on the way you feel in his grasp. 

His statement wasn’t weird. It shouldn’t have thrown you off like it did. He’s been your boyfriend for over three months — nearing the four-month mark — and you’ve had sex a lot of times. Still, he has never seen you naked. At least, not completely. 

All the times you’d had sex, you kept your bra on. They were cute bras, sexy lingerie sets that had cost you a fortune — specifically because the bra sizes you were looking for were like trying to find a signed limited edition of Kafka’s Metamorphosis. (You spoke from experience, having fought everyone on the internet to get a copy for Spencer’s birthday). All this effort was to hide one thing, well, two things really: your breasts. And it worked. Spencer was always hypnotized the second you took your top off. He had asked before if he could take your bra off, but when you rationally responded with, “It was so expensive, it would be a waste to take it off,” he always agreed, cupping your tits through the lacy fabric and forgetting why he ever complained. 

This is a good example that shows how considerate Spencer is. He’d let the subject slide with every weak excuse you made, never asking any prying questions. You knew it didn’t make sense to think Spencer would be turned off by the way your breasts look without a bra. He is obsessed with them covered, let alone when they’re not, your friends had told you. Still, doubt gnawed at you. He was a man. Men watch porn. You knew of his exes, how they have a different body type from yours. You were just afraid you’d shatter the illusion — that he’d be disappointed when he found out that your breasts aren’t as perky without support, how your nipples aren't placed symmetrically in the middle, how stretch marks covered the skin. 

“Are you alright?”

Spencer’s voice rattles you out of your thoughts. You swallow. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The knuckle of his index finger tilts your chin, coercing you to look at him. His eyes looked sweet — a little tired, very lustful, but sweet nonetheless. 

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Three simple words, and still it felt like a large weight fell off your shoulders, allowing you to breathe again. “I know,” you respond with a nod, reaching out to cup his jaw. Your thumb grazes his light stubble, then gently brushes against the hidden scar underneath his chin. 

“I love you,” you say back.

The intimate moment is of short duration. Spencer tilts his head, then raises his hand to signal to the Uber, who just drives into the street. 

You mumble a soft thanks as Spencer holds the door open for you. You crawl into the backseat, and he follows behind you, clicking his seatbelt on and giving the driver the address to your home.

“Driver, roll up the partition, please,” you sing under your breath as the Uber driver does so.

“Beyoncé?”

You gasp, placing a hand on your heart to emphasize your surprise. “Wow, I’ve taught you so much.”

“You teach me lots of things,” he says with a goofy grin. 

And he meant it. You did teach the all-knowing genius quite a lot. Whether you’d consider sharing your excessive pop-culture knowledge as impressive as the facts he rambled about was questionable. But the information was useful, nonetheless. 

His eyes flicker from the driver back to you, saying his next words just loud enough for you to hear. “I don’t think it would be a smart idea if you were to get on your knees, though.”

Your lips curl, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. His comment is a reference to the song; still you could tell there was a slight invitation behind his words. 

“You don’t think so?” You tease.

He scootches forward in his seat. His eyes roam over your body, halting on your cleavage, then move up to your pouty lips.

“It’s a pretty cramped space,” he settles on saying, his voice hoarse. “Not even mentioning the fact that partitions are made of polycarbonate — which does absorb up to 34 decibels on average, but that’s not enough for you.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Not enough for me?”

He places a hand on your bare knee, thumbing the skin. “You’re pretty loud,” he recalls, his eyes finding yours. 

You chuckle, your gaze falling down to his hand, which was slowly creeping its way up your thigh. His fingertips were digging into the muscle, massaging it with care. The act is enough to turn you on, though you were already turned on by the kisses that he had left on your neck earlier. The memory is still vivid in your mind. 

“It’s not fair to blame it on me,” you tell Spencer. “You’re the reason for making me scream.”

He breaks eye contact, but not before you could catch the sparkle in his dark irises. He was trying to hold himself together; you could tell. He licks his lips, tucking a loose curl of hair behind his ear, before leaning in. His shoulder brushes against yours, his hot breath leaving goosebumps as his mouth traces the shell of your ear.

“Will you scream again for me tonight?” 

-`♡´-

Spencer’s kisses were all tongue, holding your jaw as he claimed you. There was no fight for dominance — you had surrendered the second he had closed the front door behind you. You had kicked your heels off at the same speed as he had thrown his blazer and tie on the ground. 

Large palms grip your face, connecting his lips back to yours as you blindly stumble through the living room in search of your bedroom. You know you’ve reached your destination as the back of your knees hit the mattress. 

Spencer pulls back. A deep exhale leaves his lips, caressing your cheek with the knuckles of his hand. “So beautiful,” he whispers, taking you in. 

You pull him back in by his collar, kissing him fervently. The lace of your underwear is bundled up between your folds, the material completely soaked. You roll your hips, moaning against Spencer’s mouth because of the slight friction it causes. 

Spencer notices what you’re doing. What you need. He grabs your ass, pulling you flush against him in a swift motion. Another moan escapes your throat as he locks his leg in between yours. Your dress rides up and he sees it as an invitation, rubbing his knee against where you need him most.

You let out a cry, the first one of the night.  

Spencer’s hands make way under the thin straps of your dress, pulling them down your arms, making your skin ignite. He pulls the dress down lower in a slight struggle as he tugs the fabric over your chest. Finally he frees your breasts, still covered with the lacy bra you’re wearing, but visible enough for his mouth to water. 

He pinches your nipples between both of his thumbs and index fingers, making your eyes roll back. “So needy, aren’t you, angel?”

His question isn’t meant to sound condescending — quite the opposite, actually. Still, you feel like he’s enjoying the way you’re all glossy-eyed and fawn-legged, feeling like you can come undone by the slightest of his touches. 

He continues stripping you down, revealing you inch by inch until the dress you had so carefully picked out in the evening is now pooled at your feet. 

Spencer gently presses you on the mattress, pushing your knees open as he takes place on the ground in between your legs. 

He hooks his hands behind your knees, scooting you a bit forward. His hands trail to your inner thighs, making you gasp as his fingertips dance over your skin ever so slowly. 

His touch was a delicious tickle, not one that you wanted to scratch, but one that you wanted to last forever. The heat in your core builds with every swipe of his digits. Your chest is heaving, his fingers so close to your throbbing pussy. 

“These are so damp,” he observes, curving his finger around the string of your underwear. “Think we should take these off, hm?”

A breathy moan leaves your lips. 

Spencer looks up at you, head cocking. He’s waiting for you to answer. You nod your head, hands gripping the bed sheets. “Yes. Want them off.”

He’s satisfied with your response, propping the material to the side to reveal your glistening cunt.

“God, you’re perfect.” He praises in awe. 

Perfect. 

You blink the thought away. There was no room for your anxieties as his tongue made contact with your pussy. You gasp, clenching your stomach and squirming forward, hands immediately finding their way into his hair. 

He uses the flat of his tongue to lick stripes up your folds, then uses the tip of his tongue to add pressure with every swipe against your clit. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he says, letting go of your swollen clit with a pop. 

You’re balancing yourself on the palms of your hands, back arched and head thrown back, giving yourself over to the pleasure. A rough hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh. His curls disappear between your legs again. Then that same rough hand… but now around your breast. 

You didn’t notice anything at first — too caught up in the buzz of his hands and mouth on you. That was until he pulled the cup of your bra down, your breast spilling free.

“Spence!” You squeal. 

The sound could pass as a moan to anyone else, but Spencer knows the way you sound. His hands drop from your body, mouth pulling away, leaving you empty but giving you enough time to quickly cover yourself up. His pretty face is etched with confusion. “What is it?” 

“You pulled my bra down.”

“Did I break it?”

You didn’t even think of that. You turn your head to your collarbone, then pull on the strap. “No. It’s fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?” He repeats, golden-speckled eyes blinking up at you. “I told you that I can buy you some new brassières. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not that, Spencer,” you sigh. 

It isn’t fair to get irritated by him. The first step to a good relationship is communication — it’s a sentence you’ve become sick of with the amount of times you hear it, but that doesn’t make it less true.

“Do you…” you’ve now started your sentence. There’s no going back. “You… You like my boobs. Right?”

It’s like watching a mime; the way his eyes widen in surprise, then the wheels in his mind seem to turn, his eyes narrow, and a frown line forms between them. 

“Of course I do,” he says, standing up from his spot in between your legs. 

You’re scared that you’ve ruined it. That the mood is gone now that he’s aware there’s something keeping your mind busy. 

“I thought it was clear how much I like your breasts,” he assures, gently helping you up by your wrists and pulling you into a hug. His arms make you feel more covered, less vulnerable, because he’s still wearing a button-up and pants, while you’re merely clothed in your flimsy lingerie, wetness still coating your inner thighs. 

He presses a kiss to your hair. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t like them.”

You still need to get used to being in a relationship with someone so emotionally mature. He truly had nothing to apologize for. It’s the voices in your head that tell you that he doesn’t like them. He’s never given you any reason to doubt yourself. 

“You haven’t, Spence. I swear. I’m just-“ you’re glad you’re talking to his chest right now, not having to face him as the next words leave your lips. “I’m scared you won’t like them anymore once you see them… bare. They don’t look the same as when I’m wearing a bra.” 

You can feel his slight chuckle reverberating from his chest. “I don’t look the same without clothes on either.”

Yes, he looks even better. His clothes hide the muscles in his arms, the thickness of his thighs, the soft flesh of his tummy. 

“They just… you know. Sag a bit.” You whisper the last words, feeling like you’ve just admitted to a foul crime. The room stays silent, and his hold on you lessens.

He pulls back enough to see your face, a playful glint still shimmering in his eyes. “I have three PhD's, one of them being in physics, and you don’t think I know how gravity works?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that answer.

“I know it’s natural and all,” you shrug. “They just don’t look like they do in porn. I felt like I needed to warn you.”

He cups your face, making you look at him; a sweet smile lingers on his lips. “If I wanted a pornstar,” the word sounded foreign on his lips, “I wouldn’t be here right now. I want you. All of you.”

You nuzzle your face into the warmth of his palm. Words were just words, but you’d never find out if he meant them if you didn’t give him a chance. You swallow, gathering courage as you take a step back, just enough room for him to fully observe you, his tall figure standing over you. 

Your fingers make their way to your back, trying to ignore their shaking as you reach the clasp of your bra. You maintain eye contact with Spencer, trying to see if he’d change his mind, but so far his hazel eyes are just filled with anticipation and need.

You take in a deep breath, then undo all three clasps at once, ripping the band-aid off. The relief is immediate, certain that there’d be marks on your skin because of the biting underwire. 

Spencer’s jaw slackens. His irises grow with every inch of skin that reveals as you pull the cups down. Then — in a quick move of your hand — you fully remove the bra from your body. 

“Jesus,” Spencer says breathlessly. 

Anxiety flashes through you like a sudden strike of lightning. Your hands reach out to cover yourself up. “I shouldn’t have-“

Warm hands lock around your wrists, gently pulling them away. “I didn’t even imagine you could look this beautiful.” 

His voice was tinged with complete adoration as he took you in. Your mind had to do a double take to signal to you that you’ve heard him properly. Beautiful. 

You play with your hands, squeezing the tips of your fingers to keep yourself from hiding the curves that were on display. “You don’t have to say that.”

He took a step forward, his fingers knitting through yours. “I’m not just saying it,” he guides your intertwined hands to his pants; your breath catches as you notice the outline of his cock bulging through the fabric. He places your hands on his cock, squeezing your fingers around his length. A breathy ah escapes his mouth, his head slightly thrown back as you start moving your hands on your own accord.

“This is all for you. This is what you do to me,” his voice rasps. 

Your thumb moves to his tip, circling the sensitive spot until you see a wet patch forming. Spencer’s hips stutter, bucking into your touch. “Let me prove to you how much I love you. Please, angel.”

His plea was one out of pure desperation. Not only was he dying to touch you, but it had been several hours since he’d first seen you in that dress. Several hours of fighting the urge to bury his cock deep inside of you. 

“I need you so bad, Spence,” you mumble back, nails grazing his clothed cock. 

A loud moan escapes from his throat. He doesn’t waste any time, holding you by your waist and letting the two of you fall onto the bed. You squeal, your tits bouncing from the effort. 

“God, look at you,” he groans, making way in between your legs as you lay down. Your breasts have fallen to the sides of your body, framing you deliciously. Spencer leans in, teasing you as he licks a wet stripe right up your breastbone, curls tickling your pillowy curves, but not yet touching them. 

He swallows your whiny moans by kissing you. His tongue hastily meets yours. He can’t help but grind himself against the softness of your inner thigh, seeking relief as his arousal continues to grow. 

Your mind is spinning. The contrast between his fully clothed body and your naked, vulnerable state is stark. His strong hands grip your delicate face as he kisses you deeper. 

With a catch for breath, Spencer pulls back. His dick twitches as he looks at you — eyes full of desire, pouty swollen lips, hard nipples begging to be touched, and your pussy glistening, ready for him to use. 

“You drive me absolutely crazy, sweetheart.”

You reach out to let your hands roam over his chest, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Please, take it off.”

He nods, making a quick effort to take his shirt off, throwing it haphazardly to the ground. With slightly shaky legs, he gets to his knees on the bed, hands fumbling with his belt, too busy staring at you.

You can’t escape the moan that leaves your lips as you see the first dusty brown hairs appear on his pubic bone. He pulls his pants down lower, revealing the thick shaft of his throbbing cock. You’re not even aware of your own hand sliding down your body, gasping as your middle finger touches your swollen clit, the feeling electrifying.

“Getting yourself off just by looking at me? I thought that was my job.”

His slacks and boxers fall to his knees, his cock slapping up against his abdomen. You felt almost guilty for teasing him this long — his tip was just as red as his rosy lips, leaking shiny precum. And his cum-filled balls stood strained, like he could bust at any moment. Your middle finger slips into your warm pussy easily, eyes rolling back as you curve your knuckle, hitting that delicious spot hidden inside of you. 

Spencer takes his pants completely off, then grabs your wrist, pulling your finger out swiftly, the motion making a sloppy, wet sound. You whine, bucking your hips up in the air. He moves your hand to his mouth, connecting his lips around your wet finger as he sucks on the digit.

He swirled his tongue, collecting all of your sweet juices and moaning in appreciation. “You can wait a little longer,” he purrs as he pops your finger out of his mouth. 

All you want to do is touch yourself again, especially now that that finger has been in his pretty mouth, but he doesn’t give you the chance as he holds your wrists together, locking them above your head. 

“You can’t show me your beautiful body and then expect me not to worship it,” he softly breathes, leaning in, his lips ghosting your cheek. 

You wiggle in his grasp, making him squeeze his fingers around your wrist. “Be good for me and keep your hands up like this, okay?”

You could say no. Could decline his proposal and have his cock pounding into your aching pussy with just one word. But where would the fun be in that?

“Okay,” you nodded, anticipation bubbling in your core. 

Spencer let go of your hands, and as promised, you intertwined your own fingers, keeping them in place above your head. For a second he just looked at you, taking you in and not knowing where to start. Like a feast that looked delicious from head to toe. But he was the only guest, so he could take his sweet time savoring all of you.

He eventually made his decision. His thumbs and pointer fingers each cupped a breast from the side, then lifted them up so they pressed perfectly against each other.  

A groan left his throat as he bounced them, tongue darting out as he played with your tits in an adorable fascination. “Is this okay?”

You hum, a soft smile lingering on your face. “Yeah, you can be rougher; I won’t break.”

He displayed his fingers over your breasts, experimentally starting to massage the pillowy, plump skin like he’d do with your thighs. Your nipples hardened under his touch, inducing a moan from the both of you. 

His thumbs swiped over your buds synchronously, causing you to whimper. His brows rose lightly, the same look he’d have every time he’d have an epiphany; he then pinched your nipples, slightly turning them as he pulled. Your back arched on the bed, accompanied by a heavenly sounding moan. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you?” He muses. “My poor girl, depraved herself for so long.” 

You could only cry, begging for more. 

“That won’t happen again,” he gently reassures, thumbing your nipples, sending electrifying sparks to your clit. “I’ll make sure to give them all the attention they deserve, hm?”

You hastily nod in agreement, your voice a soft whimper. “Please.”

He leaned down, settling in between your legs, hissing when his cock grazed against your soft inner thigh. 

“Can’t wait to taste you,” he whispered, breath fanning your sensitive skin. He stuck his tongue out, and you couldn’t wait to experience how he’d feel lapping on your tits, if it were to feel just as incredible as having his tongue on your pussy.

Your question was quickly confirmed as he licked a wet stripe over the bud. The cool air that followed formed goosebumps on the skin. He cupped your breast tightly in his hand, leaning in again to repeat the motion, then again, until the bud glimmered under the bedroom light. He squeezed your other tit, making sure to give that one the same amount of attention as he swirled his tongue around the same bud. 

The only sounds that filled the space were your longing moans and the smooching of his kisses. You lay still, hands kept patiently up as you let him use you like a canvas, painting your skin with gentle strokes of his tongue.  

It was after a few more teasing licks that he closed his lips around the bud, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. You gasped, not being able to help yourself as your hands shot to his hair. He didn’t mind though, moaning around you as you tugged on the locks. He let go of your nipple, placing featherlight kisses and sucks on your chest before finding his way to your other breast, connecting his lips to it. The feeling was so dizzying, and you swore that you could come by just a single tap to your clit. 

He opened his eyes to look at you, blown wide pupils locking with yours as he continued to suck. His eyebrows were scrunched as if he was waiting for you to tell him that he was doing a good job, that he was pleasing you. 

“God, you look so beautiful,” you say in a moan. “Make me feel so good.” His eyes twinkled at the compliment, and he grinded his length against your leg as if to say the sentiment was mutual. 

He released your nipple from his mouth, hoisting himself up to press a kiss to your lips. His tongue moved around yours in the same way as it had done to your body just a moment ago. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” kiss, “can’t get enough of you,” another kiss, “need more.” 

An idea sparked in the back of your mind. It was something you’d never tried before, not with anyone, but you could imagine it feeling good. He has fucked your thighs before. Your mouth. Your pussy. The only thing that was missing was—

“Do you want to fuck my tits?”

“Oh God, yes,” Spencer instantly groaned in response. You giggled as he made quick work of moving up the bed, placing a knee on either side of your upper body. His hard cock was just inches away from you; a string of precum coated his tip, dripping onto you. You reached out, finger gathering the sticky essence before suckling on the digit.

Spencer’s hips twitched, releasing another thick drop of precum. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Why?” You teased, proudly showing your clean finger. 

He groaned, both in frustration and longing. “Because I will come all over you before I’ve even fucked you.”

You laugh, turning him on even more without it being on purpose. You placed your hands flat against your tits, squeezing them together invitingly. “Come on, then.”

Spencer grips himself by the base, tapping his tip against your soft cleavage before sliding himself in between your breasts. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he moans, throwing his head back. He’s too aroused to start out slow, instantly slamming his hips up in a steady rhythm. His upper thighs slap against your breasts, recreating the dirty sounds he'd make if he were actually fucking you.

“You feel so good like this,” he whimpers. “Always so good to me, angel.” 

He reaches out to pinch your nipples, making sure to bring you pleasure as well. Not like you weren’t enjoying this — Spencer was so, so pretty; you could stare at him for hours: his jaw slack, moans and groans spilling from his swollen lips like a song sung just for you, his chest and neck covered in red splotches from the heat of your bodies, his slick, pink tip rubbing against your chest, his veiny hands playing with your tits as he kept looking at you, his eyes filled with love and adoration… You couldn’t get enough. 

“I’m so close, baby,” he pants, his cock twitching, using the wetness that had gathered between your breasts as lube to move his hips faster against you. 

“That’s okay,” you encourage breathlessly, pressing your tits closer together, creating more friction for him. “Let go for me, Spence.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. One of his hands clasps around your shoulder, the other kneading the soft flesh of your breast as he thrusts his hips forward once more. His muscles tense, and you catch that look on his face — the look that tells you he’s right on the edge. Your prediction gets confirmed as a throaty whine escapes his throat, followed by warm spurts of white shooting onto your neck and chest. You’re able to catch a few drops by sticking out your tongue, swallowing, and sticking it out again to show him the proof.

“You drive me absolutely crazy, angel,” he says awestruck, climbing off of your body and staying seated beside you. 

You hum as you take in the way he has painted your chest, tracing your skin with your index finger, creating small drawings. He looks at you mesmerized, then blinks. “We should clean you up.”

“I got it,” you announce, cupping your breast up to your face and licking a firm stripe across the skin. 

A gasp sounded beside you, and you couldn’t help the sly grin that formed on your face as Spencer looked at you in pure surprise.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

You giggled, placing your lips around your nipple as you gave a gentle suck while focusing on your boyfriend, whose cock was hardening again. 

“Acting so needy when you’ve been pleasing yourself all this time,” he tsked. “Such a dirty girl.” 

He matched your smile, cupping your face and bending over to lightly caress your lips with his once again. You moan in satisfaction, licking his bottom lip to be invited in. Your lips acted in a familiar play, experimentally moving around each other until you figured out each other’s moves, able to feel the urgent need in the way his tongue stroked yours, signaling back to him that you’re feeling the same by biting down on his bottom lip.

He groaned in response, his hands sneaking around your waist to hoist you up. “You’ve done enough hard work; you deserve to lie down now,” you joke as he gently makes way onto the soft bed sheets, holding onto your even softer thighs as you straddle him. 

His cock feels heavy in your hands as you position it underneath your throbbing pussy, shuddering as you tease your walls with the slick head. 

“You look so beautiful,” he praises, moving his warm hands up and down your hips, easing the strain you feel when you slowly sink down onto his length. You gasp when his thick tip disappears between your folds, but his sweet moans calm you down. Oh, you’re so tight. Just a little more, just like that. You’re doing so good for me, angel. 

“Oh my God, Spence,” you moan as your hips make contact with his. The stinging has eased into a delicious sense of being full, placing your hands on top of his tummy to keep yourself steady as you start rocking your hips. Spencer gives a firm squeeze, fingertips digging into the curve of your ass, sure it’s going to leave marks. 

You move your body up and down, breasts swaying with every one of your movements, the act completely hypnotizing Spencer. His head feels fuzzy and his throat dry as he watches you, not being able to believe how lucky he got. 

You up your speed, moaning and whimpering as you use his cock as your personal toy, his voice and face working as porn as he shudders in pure bliss underneath you. 

“Taking me— fuck — so well, baby,” he whines. Spencer places the soles of his feet flat on the bed, holding you tightly by your waist as he lifts his body up.

“Spencer!” you cry as his cock drives deeper into you. 

“Hm, I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs in apology. “Just want to help you out.”

You nod — because even though you’re very much enjoying taking the lead, you know how good it feels when Spencer helps you out by pounding into you. So that’s what you do: sinking down onto him, meeting each of his thrusts as he bucks his hips up.

“Is it painful?” he asks considerately, nodding toward the way your heavy breasts bounce with each push of his hips.

You shrug, “Just a bit.” To be fair, you’re way too focused on the way your core tightens every time he buries his cock in your pussy, hitting that sweet spot inside of you as the veins decorated around his shaft tease your inner walls — to even care.

His large hands find their place on your breasts, squeezing them once, then twice, then looking back in your eyes. “I can work as your personal brassière.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Ah, how civil.”

“Did you know brassières were only invented in 1893? It’s fascinating because technically the first brassières dated back to ancient Greece. Actually, in Book 14 of Homer’s Iliad, there’s a reference to Aphrodite’s embroidered girdle.”

You hum, leaning forward to catch his lips. “And did you know that you talk too much?” You tease as you press another kiss to his mouth. “And did you know that no one uses the word brassières anymore?”

“But it’s the correct term!”

There’s only one other way to shut him up. You cradle your hands underneath his head, bending while tilting his head up to press his face against your tits. 

“Hmpf,” he mouths against your breasts, before easily finding your nipple to latch on. 

You hold onto the headboard, relishing in his touch as you pick up your rhythm again. His cock hits even deeper inside of you in this position. There’s something so electrifying about the stimulation of your breasts in combination with the pleasure against your G-spot. A feeling so electrifying you doubt you can hold on much longer. 

“Getting close, Spence,” you cry as his hands cradle your ass, holding the cheeks open as he pumps his length in and out of you.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Wait on me.”

His hot breath fans against your wet nipples, and you cry loudly, gripping the headboard until your knuckles turn white.

“I can’t, Spence. I can’t — feels so fucking good.”

“Yes, you can. Just a little longer. Make me proud, angel; I know you can.”

You tighten your walls around him — maybe it can be considered as cheating — but it works. Spencer groans as he bites down on your breast, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you squeal.

Spencer holds you tight against him, chests pressing together as he moves his hips with force. “That’s it — Oh, I’m close. Let go for me.” 

With one more jolt of his hips, you come undone. You cry incoherent words in the crook of his shoulder. Your legs are shaking from the strain of holding them open for so long. Your pussy flutters around him repeatedly until Spencer’s legs quiver in the same way as yours, filling you up with his warmth.

He groans in satisfaction, pushing his hips up a few more times to make sure his release is buried deep inside of you. The round head of his cock slips out of your folds. You let out a sharp gasp, still feeling the print he had left inside of you. You can feel the way your pussy twitches as his cum drips out of you and dribbles onto his thighs.

Spencer pulls some hairs out of your face, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as you settle your head down on his sweaty chest.

“It's okay,” he soothes you. “You did so good.”

You smile sheepishly, drawing figures on his chest. “Yeah?”

He mirrors your smile. “Yeah. You did perfectly.” Another kiss to your face. “My beautiful, brilliant girl.”

Your heart does a leap out of joy. It’s easy to say afterward, but you can’t believe how you were ever scared to show yourself to him. Now only regretting not having done it sooner as you see the physical proof of how enamored he is with you. Maybe you didn’t fit the ideal you’d been forced to fit in all of your life, but if anything, there’s only more to love.

hi. ily. 🫶🏼 you’re amazing, never forget that.

Ps. Spencer Reid loves you. 😉❤️

hi ilyt <333 and of course he does, he’s my bf duh 🤭

that man and his rideable thighs 💁‍♀️

giving spencer a massage

genre smut (18+) cw leggings!reader (gymrat!reader) x perv!spencer, established situation-/relationship, thigh riding, some nipple play, handjob, 69 wc 2,8k a/n another fic in the leggings!reader universe! but you can read this (and the others) as standalones :)

“Spence, I’m home!”

Your voice echoes through the apartment, feeling like a 1950s housewife as you place the heavy bag of groceries down on the floor and kick off your shoes. With light effort, you lift the bag back up and place it on the kitchen counter. That’s for being a gym rat.

“Spence?” You repeat, voice slightly louder, as you wait for a response.

A muffled groan follows, seeming to come out of the bedroom. “I’m in here!”

A chuckle passes your lips, and curiously you make your way to the bedroom, following the sound. The door is slightly ajar, and peeking through it, you see Spencer lying on his back on top of the bedsheets. He’s wearing his gym wear: blue shorts that stop mid-thigh, and his red hoodie sits next to him on the covers, revealing his chest that glimmers in a light layer of sweat.

“This is a nice way to come home,” you teasingly grin, walking in and taking place on the edge of the mattress.

Spencer tries sitting up but quickly gives up, his hand reaching to the sting in his spleen and lying back down. “I did that routine you texted me,” he says, and the situation instantly gets clear.

“You hated it, huh?” You chuckle.

“You said it was ‘light’,” he whines, acting like you forced him into doing something torturous, while the workout was still on beginner’s level.

“It was light!” You say as you playfully squeeze his calf, making him flinch in pain. You pull your hand away. “It was a leg routine. We established that those are the easiest.”

“Sometimes statistics can lie.”

You fake a gasp, placing your hand on your heart. “Statistics? Lying? Good heavens, it can’t be possible.”

He laughs, the warm sound interrupted by a string of ouch’s.

“Not a peep when you get shot in the leg, but you draw the line at a thirty-minute workout,” you state with a raised eyebrow.

His puppy dog eyes hold your gaze, pink lips pouting up to you.

“Fine,” you sigh, standing up from your spot. “I have some massage oil. It might help.”

A sneaky smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, looking way too smug for someone who was sulking just a second ago. With a snort and shake of your head, you make your way to the bathroom. Opening the cabinet, you spot the transparent purple liquid, a sticker placed on it that reads Natural Lavender Massage Oil, meant to relax. 

“Tada!” You showcase the bottle of oil before playfully throwing it to him, Spencer having a habit of wanting to check the ingredients himself.

“Sounds good,” he concludes, throwing the bottle back to you after having read the tiny letters at record speed.

“What do I do?” He asks as you take your place on your knees next to his figure.

“Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

He hummed. “Okay.”

The bottle opens with a flick of your thumb, the pleasant aroma filling the room instantly. Carefully, you let the liquid drop onto your palm, closing the lid, and rubbing the oil between your hands.

“Can be a bit cold,” you warn before placing your hands on his thighs.

He makes a satisfied sound as your skin makes contact with his. “Cold is just what I need.”

You aren’t an expert at massages, but you know enough about muscles to know where to apply pressure and where to be more gentle. Spencer wasn’t lying; the flesh of his upper thighs feels tense as you gently dig the tips of your fingers in.

“Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” he answers in a soft breath.

Slowly, you’re starting to form a nice rhythm. Thumbs pressing circles into the plush skin, while your fingers squeeze around the rest of his thigh, then letting go, and repeating the same motion.

“You have pretty thick thighs,” you murmur in observation.

“Is that a good thing?”

You think about it for a moment and come to the conclusion that it is a good thing. Yes, a really good thing. 

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip before catching it in between your teeth. In a single second your previous thoughts have hazed up with ones of his thighs. You’re suddenly very aware of the proximity. Very aware of how he feels beneath your hands and how his shorts have ridden up, and how you could just place a leg over his and have his thigh right where you’re starting to ache for him.

“Is it?”

Your head whips toward him, blinking a few times until your brain finally translates his words.

“Uh, yeah. It’s great. Makes it seem like you’ve gymmed longer than you have.”

He seems satisfied with that answer, nodding and placing his head back onto the pillow.

“I get people’s fascination with thighs. I like yours.”

You swallow, voice pitching. “Yeah?”

He hums in acknowledgment. His lips part and he releases a small moan when you massage a particularly tight spot.

“Shit, right there.”

The room is growing warmer around you, almost forgetting that you’re in the middle of giving a massage as he flutters his eyes shut, a breathy sigh escaping his lips. You move your fingers in the same manner, igniting another moan. You’re starting to see the appeal of this now.

His hand reaches out to your hip, holding you for extra support. “That’s it. A little harder, baby.”

Your skin prickles in heat, his words sending sparks straight to your core. 

You let out a breathy laugh. “I know I can never send you to a real masseuse if you keep moaning like that.”

His brows furrow, the wheels in his mind turning until he puts one and two together. “You’re getting turned on by this?”

“Well, you know,” you shrug.

He raises his eyebrows.

“You know your voice turns me on,” you finish sheepishly.

He manages to lift himself up by his lower arms, looking at you. “Just my voice? Or does it also have to do with my thick thighs?”

You chuckle against your will, wishing you could wipe that cocky grin off of his face. “Maybe,” you mutter, keeping your focus on his legs, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how worked up he’s getting you.

This dynamic is new to you. Him teasing you. And although it’s having a clear effect on you, you can’t give him the upper hand. You won’t let him. So why not play into his games?

“There are more ways for me to massage your legs without using my hands.”

This seems to intrigue him. “Is that so?”

You hum, finally turning toward him. “There are ways for me to apply some more pressure. More weight.”

It’s his turn to bite his lip now, catching on to your plans. “How are you planning on doing that?”

“I think you know,” you sensually purr. Then lift yourself up on your knees, holding onto his leg to not fall over. While keeping your eyes on Spencer, you slowly undo the button of your jeans. His grip on your hip tightens, and you have to call out his name for him to let go so you can pull the rest of the fabric down.

“Yeah, I really like your thighs,” he confirms, his eyes dreamily scanning the nude curves that are on full display.

You give him a feline smile and place your hands on his abdomen, feeling his skin burn underneath your touch. You hold yourself steady as you throw a leg over his, his thigh situated in between both of yours. 

His hands ghost to your ass, giving an experimental squeeze. “I like this plan.”

“I thought so,” you cheekily responded.

The plan was there, but now it’s time for the most important part, the execution. Taking your time, you lower yourself down until your pussy makes contact with his thigh. It feels pleasant. He’s just the right body temperature, and the hairs on his leg tickle you softly, but not in a way that’s bothering. Feeling the need for more, you spread your legs a little wider and sit down again. 

That’s it, you think as you inhale a sharp breath. His words and looks always have a huge effect on you, and it now shows: your clit is swollen and your lips are puffy, feeling sensitive enough for his thigh to apply the perfect amount of pleasure.

“That feels good, Spence,” you moan.

“Yeah? Does it feel good, Angel?” 

He’s staring up at you with a look of pure lust and interest. It felt so intimate to see you get yourself off. And he wasn’t even a fly on the wall. He was here. With you. Being used as your personal toy, and he felt like there was no bigger honor.

You nod your head, gripping onto the softness of his stomach as you start to grind your hips. With each move, you rub your folds against him. The heat against your pussy accumulates, and every slide of your hips is getting easier as you spread your wetness around.

“You’re so good at this, baby. So wet already,” Spencer whispers in awe, moving his hands soothingly over your backside. 

It’s silly how he can turn a moment this naughty into something so sweet and romantic. The more time you spend together, the more moments you have like this. Growing comfortable around each other’s presence, taking it slow instead of the rushed, hormone-filled encounters you had before.

With every rock of your body, your rhythm grows steadier. Getting the hang of it. Little moans turn louder each time your swollen clit makes contact with him, shooting stars to your core and electrifying every part of your body.

Like Spencer noticed this, he props himself up onto the pillows and reaches out to cup your tits through your shirt. Grateful that your bra is made out of thin lace and not the thick polyester of your sports bras, you can feel his fingertips lock onto your nipples and pinch the hardening buds.

You tilt your head back with a groan, upping your speed and reveling in the wet sounds your pussy is making. 

Trying to find a new spot to hold onto, you tap your hands over his body, eyes still fluttering shut in pleasure, until your hand lands on the heavy bulge in Spencer’s shorts. You palm him through the fabric. His cock stands hard and ready, and you thumb the prominent vein that runs along his length. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

You don’t have it in you to be a tease. Not when the warmth in your stomach is building and all you want is to see the physical proof of how turned on your act got him. You curve your fingers into the elastic band and pull the shorts down, freeing his throbbing length.

“No underwear?” You ask breathlessly, not stopping the motions of your hips. “What wouldn’t the people in the gym think?”

A quiet groan escapes his lips. He feels flustered by the discovery you’ve made but can’t deny how the risk turned him on. 

He hisses when you wrap your palm around his shaft, flicking your wrist upward, matching the pace of your hips. 

“I get— Jesus—“

“You get Jesus?” You ask in a teasing faux confusion.

He squeezes your breasts, shutting you up, before he continues. “I get sweaty with underwear on.”

You hum. “Well, that’s the whole point of working out. Isn’t it?”

“I prefer a workout like this,” he moans, bucking his hips up.

“This is not a workout, Spence.” Not for you at least, you think, as it clearly is a workout for you. A pleasurable one at that. “You’re just lying there.”

His hands slide down your body, gripping your waist. “That’s because I thought you wanted to use me. Just say the word, and I’ll flip you over.”

There was a challenge in his voice, and who were you to deny? You circle the tip of his cock, and though it’s not really a word, it translates to him that you need him. Now.

In a swift motion, he lifts you from his lap. You let out a squeal when he indeed flips you around, then pulls you up by your thighs and drags you to him until your cunt is perfectly placed above his mouth. 

“So you do have arm muscles?”

He hums in agreement, and the warmth of his breath tingles your pussy that is oh so close. 

“Just keeping my strength for moments like these.”

There is no time to respond with a smart remark. He gently pulls your hips down, and in a heartbeat, his tongue has found your cunt. Lapping a firm stripe up your lips, drinking in the juices that you’ve just spilled.

You arch your back, elongating your body over his frame. You spot the glistening spot on his thigh, not being able to help yourself as you slide a finger through the slick. 

“We don’t even need massage oil next time.”

Spencer hums against your clit in response, the sound reverberating through your entire body. His tongue taps against the small pearl, and then he wraps his lips around it. Humming even harder, knowing its effect.

“God, Spence… Feels so good,” you gasp.

His cock rests against his happy trail, translucent precum dripping out of the tip. You grab him by his shaft, pulling his length back and licking a stripe down his stomach. Spencer shudders at the touch, pumping his hips and moaning against you as his cock slides perfectly through your fist. 

“Just like that, baby. Work for it. Move your hips for me.”

Spencer fucks himself into the sleeve you’ve created out of your hand. His tongue flicks hard against your clit, hot hands spreading you open to give you all he can.

In a reward, you scoot a bit forward, just enough so that you can wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

You bob your head, sucking on the tip and collecting his precum with your tongue. You don’t need to see his face to know that you’re doing a good job. Every squeeze of his fingers and every hitch of his breath indicate how much he’s enjoying this.

And so are you. 

He licks your labia, gently suckling on it, before his tongue moves on to your needy hole. The tip of his tongue circles the entrance to your cunt, and then he dives in. 

You gasp, automatically swallowing him deeper. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you scratch your nails against his thigh before you come back up for breath. 

You lay your head onto his thigh, jerking him off as you’re getting too distracted by the traces of his tongue against your inner walls.

Swiping your hand over the mess you’ve previously made on his thigh, you use the wetness as lube and go back to pumping his length. 

His tip flushes an angry red, signaling to you how much he needs you. Adrenaline courses in your veins, and with a newfound energy, you sit back up. 

Your hands cup his balls, gently using your massage techniques as you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. Tasting him before taking him back in your mouth. 

Using a slower approach, you inhale through your nose and take him in inch by inch. 

“Stay like that,” Spencer instructs, and you loosen your jaw, letting Spencer take control as he pumps himself into your wet mouth. 

It gives you the opportunity to focus on the way his tongue feels on you. And you realize that you’re very close to reaching your high. 

His tongue moves relentlessly, flicking over the spot where your labia meet your clit, stimulating both areas that are most sensitive to you. You arch your back, forgetting all about pleasuring him as you sit up, grinding yourself onto his mouth. 

“Spencer.”

To let you know he understood, he adds more force. His tongue presses deeper against you, but never stopping the rhythm that he’s found.

“Spencer, Spencer! I’m—“

Your sentence ends in a sharp cry as your orgasm hits you. Waves of pleasure crash through your entire body, the feeling rushing through you from head to toe. 

Overwhelmed by your climax, his cock twitches and he finishes with a loud groan. Thick ropes of white release shoot up your upper body and coat his stomach.

Spencer kisses your clit, the action making you shake. He repeats some kisses to the rest of your pussy, then eagerly moves to your hole, ready to catch your dripping sweetness.

You do the same for him, giving his cock a few more tugs, getting every drop out of him. 

With trembling, fawn legs, you move from his face, collapsing onto the cushions next to him. Spencer wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in and placing a kiss to your head. 

“God, my legs hurt from shaking,” you say breathlessly. 

Spencer turns his head to look at you. 

“Need a massage?”

why is every spencer reid writer getting attacked on here ? wtf 😭😭

LOOK AT HIS ASS BRO 🤯🤯🤯

i can fix him (no really guys… i can)

i can fix him - spencer reid x fem!reader

reader makes it her entire life's purpose to restore the spark she's sure spencer reid used to have before prison turned him gray but it doesn't quite work out...

genre: angst with some smut wc: 1.3k warnings: post prison but no spoilers, grumpy x sunshine, sunshine!reader, age gap (reader is 25), lowkey enemies to lovers, spence chokes an unsub, sex used as manipulation, unprotected sex, teasing a/n: anon request!!! based on i can fix him (no really i can)

“He hasn’t been the same since he got out.”

The words rang delicately in the back of your busy brain like a constant dial tone. A conversation with Penelope brought forth a realization in you.

When you joined the BAU, replacing the youngest member with your fresh face and a childish desire to make the world a better place, you thought of Spencer Reid as untouchable. He was rational, scientific, gathering all of his beliefs from the articles he cherished. He was right, always. Every last syllable that left his chapped but plush lips was guaranteed to be the uttermost truth. Cited, sourced, and verified.

At first, it was irritating and unbearable. You couldn’t say one word without an infuriating, “actually,” following.

The fact that he practically ignored your existence didn’t help.

It wasn’t until an enlightening comment that your view changed.

“A day in a prison, how fun,” you had said.

Garcia, ever the one to gossip, had replied with, “yeah, poor Reid, I wonder if he’s going today.”

“Well, why wouldn’t he be?”

“You don’t know. Oh, you don’t know!”

Her eyebrows raised as her mouth gaped. But then she looked away, as if telling herself to keep quiet. “He should really be the one to tell you. Or Emily! Even–uh–okay, okay, I'll tell you!”

And so you sat, wide-eyed and shocked at the things she described so easily. All of it was bad. She had mentioned his mom and drugs which honestly left you confused.

Every time you looked at him, you saw the shadow of a man he has every right to be. You saw a heart that could grow three sizes if given reason.

You knew he wasn’t always this way. You could see it every time his eyes lit up when he was about to lay some new information on the team. Right before he was shut down.

Because nobody really cared about the guy who only has seventy-two items to his name (including his underwear).

You saw the way he looked at you.

With a longing–a pondering that you found yourself wanting to know its meaning.

The rest of the team communicated their impression with how wise you were despite your amount of acquired wax candles.

He never blinked.

You figured it had to do with his already large amount of knowledge. But it felt like more. Every time you contributed to a case with a smile that proved your pride, he stared at your profile almost like he could picture the day you would dwindle. And he never once allowed an UnSub to come near you.

It was like he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to protect your innocence or ruin it altogether.

Something that used to infuriate you now seemed so… insignificant.

It was wrong, you knew, to be feeling so sad for a grown man, but it came on its own. His random facts now intrigued you.

You were sure he picked up on the change in your demeanor. Because he changed too.

When you laughed at an unfunny joke, his lips would curl into this nervous but confused half-frown-half-smile that you were now determined to make last.

And so, with the knowledge that your very own laughter cracked his tough armor, you decided to take it further. You wanted him to be who he was before all the hurt. You knew you could bring back his spark if you tried hard enough.

An optimist at heart you were.

It started how it was destined to–with a convincing kiss.

Strategically, you asked for help with organizing your bookshelf. A few lingering glances and he was right where you wanted him.

Your lips met and you knew your plan would work.

Spencer was touch starved. The second you straddled him, he was yours.

All of him crumbled the first night he spent in your bed.

And then he never left your side.

Like a puppy, he followed you around and did everything you said.

It started with small things. You asked him to smile more, say “good morning” to Anderson, and remember that bad people will still be bad even if he stays the night at the BAU.

It worked too.

He was happier. He made jokes, he laughed, he did physics magic.

You trained him almost like a dog, praising him after every time he did something nice for someone else. Because–according to Garcia–he came to work and went home unlike how he used to be.

Since you, a younger, outgoing adult, forced yourself on him, he came out a bit.

O’Keefe’s was now familiar with him. Thanks to you, that is.

And, of course, an older man, you didn’t mind. Spencer was older, experienced. He made you feel grown. And you could fix him. You turned a cold, antisocial man into a silly, awkward man again.

But there were still setbacks.

For one, he allowed his anger to come through when he thought you were in danger.

There was a day where an UnSub was taking young girls who reminded him of his ex. You just so happened to resemble that ex perfectly.

When you cleared the bathroom, you forgot to check behind the shower curtain. A mistake you were sure had been made before quickly put you in the way of Spencer. His hand had wrapped around the guy’s throat so hard you thought he might actually kill him. Apprehending him against the hard tile wall, his eyes met yours in a silent scolding.

The EMT’s fingers brushed the wound on your forehead as she bandaged the cut. Spencer’s converse came into view but you didn’t look up.

Not until he spoke.

“Are you… okay?”

Two pairs of glass eyes met and you watched as his struggled not to dwell on the bandaid. “I’m fine,” you said.

But you resented how he couldn’t be the version of himself the world deserved.

For months, he’d been perfect, how come he couldn’t stay that way?

Your twenty-five-year-old brain wasn’t enough to fix the much older man in front of you. You thought that if he smelled enough strawberry lip gloss he’d change and become a boyfriend. Yet that change never happened. He didn’t seem as grumpy or isolated, sure, but it wasn’t enough for you.

You strived to fix him.

You remembered the first time you slept together.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, rolling his eyes.

You simply hummed, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “I was thinking… maybe… we could have some alone time? Just the two of us. Before O’Keefe’s?”

“I already told you I’m not going to the bar.”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind? Be nice to a few people? I’ll make it worth your while…”

Another sloppy kiss to his neck.

“How about that?” you inquired softly.

No answer came, only a harsh kiss. His tongue parted your lips and his hands slid under your skirt. In a second, your panties were pushed over. His belt went to the floor.

You wasted absolutely no time in running yourself over him and sinking down immediately onto his length.

Spencer’s mouth dropped as he grabbed your ass. It burned every time he slammed into your cervix but you took it, because the look on his face was everything. Groans left him every time your hips met.

A quick, frenzied pace was set. It was pathetic how fast he unravelled.

Furrowed brows and a scrunched nose gave away how long he was going to last.

“Already close?” you teased.

“God–”

And he was coming inside you, messing your skirt effectively. But you couldn’t resist.

You felt him throb as your hips rose and fell slower. “Stop it,” he croaked.

Graciously, you nodded, pressing a sticky kiss to his lips. Your head found a resting place on his shoulder.

“O’Keefe’s?” you suggested after a few beats.

Of course, he agreed.

Because who was he to disagree with you?

<33

just had to gif this

CAN SOMEONE PLS WRITE A SPENCER REID X READER ABOUT THE READER NOT HAVING VERY CHRISTMASES GROWING UP SO SHE DOESNT CELEBRATE OR SHES A SCROOGE WHEN IT COMES TO THE HOLIDAYS AND REID NOTICES THIS AND GOES ALL OUT FOR HER BC SHE LIKES HER???? this is a need bc i’m not feeling very jolly this year 😞

CAN BE FLUFF OR SMUT OR BOTH I JUST WANT IT TO BE FLUFFY