The Story That Didn't Want To Be Written | Spencer Reid x Reader

Subconscious

Warnings: This entire chapter is pure smut :) Dom/sub dynamic (Spencer and Y/N are both switches in this chapter!), light overstimulation, praise kink, degradation, restricted movement, fingering, hand job, penetrative sex, mention of safe word, choking, aftercare.

Work was normal.

It had been a week since your night with Reid- far too long in your opinion.

You two hadn't really talked alone since that night in the hotel, agreeing before work that it was best that neither of you speak of it for the sake of not meeting with the team's dynamic- although he did make sure to check in on you every few minutes or so, wanting to make sure you weren't in too much pain and you were feeling okay.

It was sweet, him showing you that he cared so much for your wellbeing. Spencer, although a very reserved person, was also extremely affectionate. Maybe not one to be upfront about his thoughts, but the happiness of others was always on the front of his mind, and he made sure to show that to the people he cared about.

You had always been one of those people, but now it was different. It was like he never left your brain; somehow your thoughts always found their way back to him, to how caring he was, to how much you cared about him too.

The thought scared you a little bit, but it was easier to acknowledge in your head than it would be to put it into words.

Still, it never felt uncomfortable to be around him. For the next week, even as you wrapped up the case and returned to Virginia to do paperwork before inevitably flying somewhere else to catch the next serial killer, you two had been closer than normal.

You weren't obvious about it or anything, you did work with profilers and they usually noticed even the smallest changes in dynamics between members of the team, but you did find yourself deciding you wanted coffee after you saw him get up, and you did notice all the times he ended up finishing his paperwork slower than usual and end up slipping out of the office a little after you, walking behind you to the parking lot for a few nights in a row.

He felt it too, this almost unexplainable gravitational pull to you, he physically wanted to be close to you and cursed his brain for not letting him understand why.

The subconscious is a wonderful, complicated thing.

It's why he couldn't really explain why he was suddenly standing outside the door of your apartment on a Thursday night; why he caught himself lifting his hand up, pointer and middle finger protruding a little from the light fist his hand was making. He couldn't explain why he was here, not really.

He knew he wanted to be close to you, and he knew deep in the back of his mind that he knew why, but again, letting the thoughts live in his brain was so much easier than letting them out into the air around him- he couldn't control them out there.

He hadn't come to stand outside your door with an agenda. It was just 8pm on a weeknight, and he found himself sitting in an empty olive green apartment, wanting the company of a very specific girl.

So, he knocked.

It's a little amusing, how he was a genius but still found himself surprised when you answered the door.

Why was he surprised? That's what people do when you knock on their door, genius. He thought to himself as you opened the door a little bit to reveal your figure standing in the crack of your door, guarding the entrance into your space as you met his gaze.

"Spencer?" you asked, less of a confirmation of who he was and more of a subtle way to ask why he was there.

"H-Hi" he stuttered, the confident man from the hotel room a week ago no longer visible behind his obvious anxiety. He lifted his hand in a motionless wave, trying to pull his mouth into his trademark tight-lip smile, but actually finding him unable to smile that small- instead displaying his teeth as he shifted his gaze to the floor and opted to smile at the carpet of the hallway of your apartment building instead of meeting your eyes.