#Spencer imagine

[tlou-reid]

as much as he’d hate to admit it, spencer kept a lot of secrets from the team.

some were minor, like how the cardigan jj gave him really was itchy, or how the new coffee machine in the office was significantly harder to clean than the old one, making each cup of coffee slightly more bacteria-filled than the less. other secrets were major, like the time his addiction had taken hold of him or the many social media accounts he had on the smart phone the team had recently found out about.

it’s true. he was on almost every platform, usually under some variation of user17376 and with no icon. but he was still there. he followed exactly one person, who also seemed to be his biggest secret.

you.

he wasn’t even sure if you knew of the vaguely-stalker-esque accounts he created just to keep tabs on you. he could only imagine how hard it would be to keep track of one user, without a name, located in your hundreds of thousands of followers. you might’ve hit one million after your newest single dropped, he hadn’t had time to check.

spencer felt bad stumbling out of your release party. he’d stuck to the back as you did your thank you speeches, excitedly dropping hints to your upcoming album. your relationship with spencer, if it could even be called that, was very private and he intended to keep it that way.

that’s why he was keeping you a secret. obviously. not because he hasn’t truly asked you to be his girlfriend. or because he was too shy to admit he even knew someone as famous as you. or because of his own insecurities telling him that he didn’t deserve you. no, of course not.

after your speeches and singing along to your brand new pop single that dropped at midnight, you did scooch your way to the back to talk to him. spencer’s arm still had goosebumps from where you held it as you laughed at his joke. he was a bit more bold now that he was three fruity drinks in. despite your fame and all of the attention you received, spencer felt comfortable in the hidden depths of your party.

his mind sort of shut off, just enjoying his time with you. every conversation topic was riveting, and he wished he could stay here with you forever.

and then his work phone rang in his pocket. spencer pretended like he didn’t see the small flash of disappointment when he answered it, saying a “hey, jj,” quietly into the speaker. you gave him a quick side hug, and then ran off, knowing he was about to leave.

and here he was, stumbling out of the party, listening to jj’s authoritative voice tell him that he needs to get to quantico asap, bring a go-bag, and meet the team on the jet so they could go over the case.

yikes. right to the jet. must be important.

as he hung up, he looked solemnly into the building your party was in. despite the empty feeling in his chest, he couldn’t help but smile at the pink lights pouring out of the windows.

and off he was to quantico.

the train ride there gave him a lot of time to ponder your interaction with him. sure, it felt like you maybe wanted to be his girlfriend when you were together. you held strong eye contact with him, weren’t afraid of small physical touches, gave him all of your attention, and stood close to him when engaged in conversations. all tell-tale behavioral signs of a crush.

but things never went deeper than surface level. it always seemed like he was catching up with a friend, not flirting with someone who he was interested in. even if he was definitely interested in you. he sighed, realizing that feeling had to stem from you, then. if you were into him, you’d also flirt with him.

so, no matter how many times you invited him to things, or he slept on your velvet couch after a game night with you and a few of your friends, that’s all he’d ever be to you. a friend.

spencer decides to turn his mind off (and his hidden smart phone), opting to bury his nose into a book. he brought a few, just in case.

he doesn’t turn his phone back on until the second night in the dingy motel. he really was trying to give himself space from you. you were infecting his mind, preventing him from thinking clearly and making decisions on the case. he thought one look at your social media might clear his head.

he opened your twitter, seeing only one new tweet. it was a video, captioned ‘been working on this one, hope you like it.’ the video played in the small media player as he inspected it. you were sat criss-cross, an acoustic guitar resting in your lap. your nails were pink, matching your newest single cover.

as he looked closer, he could see the glitter across your collar bones and your slightly-smeared makeup. this was filmed the night of your party. it must’ve been after it, given your disheveled appearance. he couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful you looked.

finally, he opened the video, your beautiful voice filling the room. spencer closed his eyes, trying to listen to the words you were singing.

“i told myself, don't get attached, but in my mind, i play it back, spinning faster than the plane that took you.”

spencer gasped, realizing the similarities to his situation. oh my god oh my god oh my god.

“and this is when the feeling sinks in, i don’t wanna miss you like this. come back, be here. come back, here.”

this song was for him.

read about how popstar!reader and spencer met here <3

[uncpanda]

The Ties That Bind: The Wedding

AN: After 10 million years, please enjoy the wedding!

The Ties That Bind Master List

You’re in the middle of making sub plans in preparation for being off Thursday and Friday. It was Wednesday now, and since your wedding dress wouldn’t be ready for at least another month, you had to go find something to get married in on Friday. You were just going to wear one of your regular dresses, but when you had said that Aaron, Jack, Jess, and Spencer had thrown a fit. 

You’re heading down to the work room, to print out what will be needed while you’re gone, when you hear the tell tale signs of heels against the floor. Your eyebrows shoot up at the sight of Penny, Will, and Jess coming down the hall, led by your principal. 

“Ms. Reed.” 

You smile and greet her, “Ms. Preston.” 

“I hear the wedding has been moved up.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She gives you a gentle smile, “Your friends told me why, and it’s time for you to go.” 

You wince, “I still have a few things to finish.” 

“Nonsense. Send me everything in an email, and I’ll handle it from there.” 

Penny shoots you a thumbs up, and you nod, “Alright. Thank you.” 

She laughs, and waves off your thanks, “I hope you have an amazing wedding.” 

“Thank you.”

Ms. Preston nods and heads off. You look at your friends, “Thank you.” 

Penny giggles and takes your hands, “Come on. We have shopping to do!” 

You laugh, “I have to get my stuff first.” 

You lead them to your classroom. You let them look around while you send the email to Ms. Preston, and then you start packing up your things. The four of you head out in Will’s car. Penny talks the entire way there, “Okay, so I have no idea what your actual wedding dress looks like. You know since I didn’t get to tag along.” 

Jess shoots you a look. Penny hadn’t been mad that you’d gone without her, but she had been bugging you for details ever since. You still intended to wear that dress for your wedding ceremony. 

You laugh, “It was spur of the moment Penny, and you were working a case.” 

“Well I’m thinking we should go for fun. Maybe a tea length dress? Or? Ohhhh! A wedding pant suit.” 

You laugh. To be honest you’re more than a little tired. The last few days have been a whirlwind. You’ve been busy preparing Aaron to ship out to Pakistan, trying to help Jack work through his emotions and prepare him for going months without his father, and you’ve had everyday life. It’s sweet that they want to make this special for you, but you really plan on keeping this simple and waiting for the big ceremony. However, if this really makes them happy, you’re happy to do it. 

You live to regret those words when Penny drags you to no less than ten stores. You’re not even sure how she manages it. You end up at stores waaay after closing in a few cases, but everyone seems more than happy to be open for you. You suppose Penny really does know everyone, and everyone really does love Penny. 

Still, when it hits ten o’clock, you’re done. Thankfully you aren’t the only one who feels that way. Will, who is next to you, watching Penny and Jess argue over a certain dress, leans in and says, “I think you were smart to just take Jess and Jack the first time.” 

“I think Aaron and I better damn well stay married, because a divorce and new marriage might just kill me, and I’m not talking emotionally.” Will laughs. 

You head home without a dress, and Penny tells you to be ready first thing in the morning to try again. You and Will whimper. Luckily Aaron is waiting for you. Jack has long gone to bed, but Aaron is on the couch, with a tumbler of what looks like whiskey. It’s barely been touched. He takes one look at you, and opens his arms. 

You go to him and snuggle in. It makes you want to cry, because you know you won’t be able to snuggle with him for much longer . . . for a long time. He kisses the top of your head. “I love you.” 

You yawn, “Love you too.” And with that the two of you head to bed. 

True to word Penny and Jess arrive early the next morning with a very sleepy and grumpy Will. Aaron puts travel mugs with very strong coffee into your hands, and another into Will’s. Will looks like he could kiss your fiance. Penny tugs the two of you out before that can happen. 

**** 

While you are wedding dress shopping Aaron is trying to take care of other things. He has the appointment made at city hall, and he’s in the process of trying to make a reservation at a nice restaurant, but it’s hard when it’s last minute. 

He’s on the phone with a restaurant he’s taken you to a few times, when there’s a knock on the door. He opens it up and finds Dave, Morgan, and Spencer storm in. He lets out a groan, when the restaurant says there’s no room for Friday. 

He hangs up. “What are you all doing here?” 

Dave smiles, “We have come to help out. Flowers will be delivered shortly, along with our suits. I have also made a reservation at a fabulous restaurant for your wedding after party.” 

Aaron raises an eyebrow, “How did you manage that?” 

“I’m rich Aaron.” 

He glances at Spencer and Morgan. Morgan is smart enough to not say anything, Spencer on the other hand, “That seems like a fairly obvious conclusion.” 

He just barely resists slapping the back of his soon to be brother’s head. 

Dave carries on, “The only bad thing is, we have to put the boutonnieres and bouquets together.” 

Aaron can’t resist, “What happened to being rich?” 

Dave waves it off, “They wanted a ridiculous amount of money to put them together on short notice. I’m rich not stupid. And how hard can it be to put together some flowers?” 

There’s a moment of silence before Spencer says, “I believe that is what people call, famous last words.” 

****

You listen as Jess and Penny argue at the front of a small vintage store. Will is following you around as you look through the dresses on the hanger. That’s when you find it. You smile to yourself as you pull it from the hanger. You look at Will, and he grins. 

“Try it on, and if that’s the dress, don’t let Penny or Jess see you in it.” 

You stare at him, “Feeling a little evil?” 

“Twenty seven stores. They’ve dragged us to twenty seven stores, and that was after making me try on nineteen different suits in order to find the right one for Aaron and Jack and the others. And then I had to watch as they tried on bridesmaid dresses. I’m ready to conquer the world.” 

You bite back a laugh, and head into the dressing room. The dress looks amazing on you. It gives you the same feeling as the other. You quickly show Will who gives his stamp of approval, and you change.

You sneak back up while Will makes a distraction, and check out. You come up behind Jess and Penny as they fuss at Will for something. You clear your throat, “I’m ready to go.” 

They both spin and look at the hanging bag you’re holding. Both of their mouths drop open, but neither says anything for a moment. Finally, Penny says, “You still need shoes.” 

Will curses, and then says, “You have got to be kidding me!” 

You smile, and head home. You give the dress to Will who takes it and hides it from Penny and Jess. He promises to hide it from JJ too.

You enter the apartment to find Aaron and a crying Jack. 

You head to Jack’s room, where Aaron is holding him. You can just make out his words. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay.” 

You settle on the bed next to them, and place your hand on Jack’s back. You rub up and down and then sandwich him between you and Aaron. Eventually, Jack calms down and you try to reassure him, “We are going to skype with daddy, every day. And I promise I’m going to be here the entire time, and Aunt Jess too. And we’ll spend time with Uncle Dave and Uncle Spencer.” 

A teary eyed Jack nods snuggles into the both of you. 

******* 

You get married at eleven in the morning. You’re in a last minute dress, and you’d gotten ready in the courthouse bathroom with the rest of the girls. It’s nothing like you expected, and yet you don’t regret it. 

Spencer is waiting for you as your group of girls, plus Will, step out of the bathroom. He smiles at the sight of you. The others go on ahead, leaving you and your brother alone. 

He kisses your cheek, and then you pull him into a hug. Quietly you whisper, “Who knew?” 

Spencer pulls back, “Who knew what?” 

“Who knew, that all those years ago, when mom brought you home, that you would be one of the best things to ever happen, and that you would lead me to other amazing things.” 

Spencer smiles, “I had to pay you back for raising me, and taking care of me, and everything else.” 

“That was my pleasure.” 

“I love you, sis.” 

You hug him again, “Love you too.” 

With those words he offers his arm, and walks you to the very small aisle in the justice of the peace’s office. The moment you lock eyes with Aaron, you feel a feeling of completion fall over you. You’re ready for the future. 

[imaginethat-imnotawriter]

Spencer Imagine

***MDNI***

So this is my first post. Disclaimer: I am not a writer. I am just a girl with dreams. I do not take responsibility if this is terrible, but I hope you read it anyway.

TW: situationship, angst (happy ending), you get a migraine, platonic nudity, nonplatonic nudity, fingering (I think that's everything.)

This story has smut, but it is mostly just plot and dialogue. I rate it one 🌶️/5 Spencer is absolutely pathetic in this, so if you like princess treatment, you may like this.

Word count: 12,673

Enjoy~

Spencer sees as you make a beeline for your desk while avoiding making eye contact with anyone. He decides to walk up to you, grabbing your forearm and turning you around to face him.

"What's wrong?" He whispers.

"Why does it matter?" You retort.

He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. He was trying to be cautious with you, but seems like this is not the situation for that.

"Because you're acting strange and I'm concerned about you." He replies, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

You look at him but turn back to your desk. "Go show your concern to the witness you seem to find so enrapturing. I wouldn't want to waste your time" You roll your eyes, your jealousy on clear display.

He stops dead in his tracks, knowing exactly what you're getting at.

"You're jealous of the witness?" He asks, sounding a bit amused.

"What? No way. Why would I be?" You say in an angry voice.

Spencer laughs and leans on the desk next to yours.

"You are jealous that I was talking to the witness, aren't you?"

You stand up abruptly ready to take your leave and clock out early to get out of this situation, but  Spencer grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"Come on, I was just playing around..." He says, the playfulness in his voice gone, replaced with a hint of guilt.

Your breath comes out in pants, feeling uncomfortable in the situation. "Honestly, I don't know what I'm feeling right now" You confess, still looking around for a way out.

He watches you carefully, looking at the way you're glancing towards the exits.

"It's okay, I'm sorry if it made you upset" He says, loosening his grip on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles slowly, trying his best to soothe you.

You turn away, unsure of how to continue this awkward conversation. He gently grabs your chin, making you look back at him, feeling his own anxiety rise at your uncharacteristic response.

"Hey, talk to me... please" He asks gently, meeting your eyes, his brown eyes filled with genuine concern.

"She's into you. The witness."  He sighs at your response, dropping his hand from your chin. 

"I know that she was flirting with me...obviously" He says, seeming a little annoyed with the fact that you think it's necessary to point out a truth he is already aware of.

You give him a look of carefully concealed rage, the feeling slipping into your voice. "Then tell me, why were you humoring her?"

He furrows his brow, not appreciating the look you're giving him. "I was just being nice, it's what I do" He says bluntly, getting a feeling that he's walking into a trap.

You scoff turning your head away from him. "Unbelievable."

He grabs your chin again, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Unbelievable? You're the one getting all jealous over some witness who happened to be flirting with me." He retorts, matching your incredulous tone.

"YOU FLIRTED BACK!" you shout.

"I was being friendly!" He snaps, getting a little bit irritated with you. "And besides, what's it to you? I'm not in a relationship, I can flirt with whoever I want."

"You know what, you're right. I'll be leaving now." You turn towards the elevator, making large steps to get there quickly. "I don't need to be around this."

He watches you walk away for a few moments, feeling a mixture of annoyance and confusion, before following after you. "Hey, wait!" He calls out, rushing forward to grab your arm again to stop you from entering the elevator.

"Let me go," You say in annoyance, ripping your arm out of his grasp. "Go back to your new escapade, you're wasting your time with me."

He lets go of your arm, feeling a pang of guilt. "Just give me a minute" He says, a hint of pleading in his voice.

You huff and give him an incredulous look. "For what? Do tell."

He sighs, taking a step closer to you. "I don't understand why you're getting so upset over this" His usually soothing voice wavering with frustration.

"Some genius" You say hearing the elevator ding and watching the doors open, feeling slightly relieved at finally finding an exit.

He watches your gaze turn towards the elevator, and he quickly steps closer to you. There's a mixture of annoyance and desperation in his eyes, almost as if begging you to stay. He hesitantly grabs both of your arms, pulling you away from the elevator. "Can you stop for a second and talk to me?" He asks, his voice cracking with frustration.

"You said you were being friendly, what else is there to say Reid?" His name leaves your lips in a hiss, your anger at him clear in your tone.

He flinches at the way you say his name, not used to such unconcealed vitriol, but continues anyway.

"Do you think I was being flirty with her because I want to be with her?" He asks bluntly, his hands still firmly holding onto your arms.

"What does it matter? It has nothing to do with me" You pull away, pressing the button for the elevator again, making sure it doesn't leave yet.

"Nothing to do with you?" He repeats, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "You're getting jealous over me, you're trying to run away as soon as things get complicated, and you're saying that none of this has anything to do with you?!"

"You made it quite clear that I have no stake in this. You aren't in a relationship. Do whatever you want" You reply tiredly, your fight leaving you, the urge to cry starting to creep up. ‘I need to leave fast’ you think.

His heart sinks at your words. He knows he's been stubborn, but seeing you give up makes him stop and reconsider his actions.

"Wait-" He says, gently tightening his grip on your arm. "You do have a stake in this, okay? I'm sorry for being so-" He's cut off by his own guilt, looking down at his shoes for a moment.

"So, what?" You say, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but feeling foolish for doing so.

"So stubborn. So careless. So stupid..." He mumbles under his breath, guilt lacing his words. "Can you please just listen to me?" He asks, his voice hoarse. He lets go of your arm and gently grabs your hand, holding it in his own.

"I suppose careless is one way of putting it. I know I don't mean anything to you, but you don't have to rub it in my face like that." You turn around again and slip into the elevator pulling your hand away.

He sighs in defeat, watching you pull your hand back and enter the elevator. He looks down, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes all the mistakes he's made. Suddenly, he makes a split-second decision. As the elevator doors begin to close, he quickly slips through them, stepping inside with you and quickly slamming his hand against the 'stop' button.

"Reid," You say, refusing to call him by his first name on principle at this point. No use in using formality when he was so cold to you today. "What do you think you're doing?"

He looks at you, his eyes locking with yours. There's a mixture of desperation and guilt in his usually neutral expression. "I'm trying to stop you from running away. From me. From us. I messed up, okay? I was selfish and careless and I do care about you" He says, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

You scoff, but refuse to reply.

He continues, noticing your reluctance to respond. Spencer takes a hesitant step closer to you, his voice getting more and more desperate. "Yes, I was being friendly with the witness. But no, I was not flirting with her. I was just being nice, doing my job. And do you want to know why?" 

You still refuse to speak but meet his gaze anyway.

He takes another step closer, the distance between you both getting smaller. "Because I like you. Actually, no, I don't just like you, I more than like you" He confesses, his eyes begging for your response, for some sort of reaction.

"You sure have a terrible way of showing it" You respond, still feeling the pain in your heart.

Spencer steps even closer again, his eyes full of guilt and remorse. "I know, I know I do. And I'm sorry-" He stops himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, the words pouring out of him like he's releasing them for the first time. "Do you wanna know why I don't tell you how I feel? Why I always keep it to myself? Why I just watch you walk around everyday, without ever telling you how much I want to hold you, how much I want to kiss you..."

"Reid–" You say again, wondering where he's going with this, but not yet ready to give in to him.

He continues, taking another step closer, his words getting more and more passionate. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid of losing you, losing what we have. I'm afraid that if I do say something, it'll change everything. I'm afraid you'll wake up one day and realize that you deserve someone more stable, less damaged... someone who doesn't have my mental baggage, who isn't as emotionally stunted as I am." He finishes his rambling, the picture perfect image of desperation.

You almost roll your eyes at him, but refrain. "Reid. You know very well how I carry just as much mental baggage as you. If you think I can't handle yours, then what does that say about me? We're all damaged here. The only reason I want to run is that you keep pushing me away in such painful ways."

He listens to your words, his heart clenching with guilt. He knows that he's been pushing you away, hurting you even when he doesn't really mean to. He feels foolish for letting his own fears and insecurities get in the way of something that could be wonderful. Spencer closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before slowly reopening them and looking at you. This time his eyes are filled with sincerity, and there's a touch of vulnerability in his voice. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to push you away. I'm trying, I really am-"

You give him a skeptical look "Are you?"

He nods rapidly, his gaze locked with yours. He seems almost desperate for you to believe him. "Yes, yes I am. I'm just... I'm not used to this. To admitting how I feel-" He sighs, looking down for a moment before quickly meeting your eyes again "I need you to believe me when I say I care about you. I care about you so much it scares me"

You sigh and look off to the side, still unwilling to believe his pretty words. Especially since his actions have failed to prove him reliable. This situationship has gone on too long and you have finally hit your limit. Either this ends with him taking you seriously, or it ends ugly.

When Spencer sees you looking away, he feels a pang of anxiety. Is he losing you already? He takes another step forward, so close that he's practically towering over you, though his presence feels non-threatening. He gently puts his hand on your cheek, turning your head so you're looking at him again.

"Please, please believe me. I don't want to lose you..." His voice breaks, showing the vulnerability that he usually tries so hard to conceal.

"I'm too weak for you Spencer." You finally call him by his first name. "I'm tired of giving you chances for you to burn me again."

The doctor feels a mixture of relief and guilt wash over him when you call him Spencer. It's something he's been waiting for you to say since this cursed conversation started. He silently hopes that it means you are starting to believe him. "I'm so sorry for hurting you. I don't want to screw things up, or make you feel like I don't care-" He takes a deep breath "I do care about you. More than you know."

"I'll give you one more chance, Spencer. My heart can’t take any more of you denying me in public while you care for me in private." You gesture around to the location in which the two of you are. Alone. Still in the elevator. "You can say pretty things when there's no one around and it makes me realize how you're ashamed to be seen with me."

Spencer’s expression is pained, knowing that his actions have made you doubt how he feels about you. He takes another deep breath, still holding your gaze with intensity.

"No, no that's not it-" He says with urgency, dropping his hand from your cheek "I'm not ashamed to be seen with you, not at all... It's just-" He pauses briefly, trying to figure out how to put it into words. He swallows hard, feeling ashamed of the reason he's been hiding his feelings.

You look down at your shoes as you wait for him to continue, not willing to give him any assistance. This mess is his to clean up.

He sighs, looking down for a moment before looking back into your eyes. "I'm scared, okay? Not of you, or of how I feel about you. God no." He starts, his voice cracking slightly from the emotion behind his words "I'm scared of how other people will react. I'm scared of how they'll treat us, how they'll look at us... how it'll change the way they think of you."

You scoff again "Reid, look." You start, straight back to his last name. "I'm under no delusion that we’re a normal couple. No. That we'd make a normal couple." You have to correct yourself since the two of you are obviously not in a relationship as he so rudely pointed out. "But give me the respect to make my own decisions, rather than you stepping in and making them for me."

He feels another pang of guilt hit him. You're making completely valid points, expressing your feelings with honesty, and he's been shutting you down at every turn. He feels the shame of the way he's been treating you start to grip at him painfully. "You're right... you're absolutely right. That was wrong of me, and I'm sorry" Spencer says, his voice still full of guilt. "I know I have no right to make decisions for you... or to hide my feelings out of fear. You deserve better."

You hit the button to start the elevator again. "You're sorry, huh?"

Spencer watches you press the button again, knowing that this is probably not going to be over anytime soon. He lets out a deep sigh, still feeling a pang of pain in his heart. "Yes, okay? I'm so sorry. Not just for this, but for pushing you away and pretending like I don't care about you. I was being an idiot. A jerk, actually."

"-an asshole" You provide, knowing that's the better term for his behavior.

"Yeah, yeah, I was being an ass, okay?" He says with remorse, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than usual. "I don't want to do this to you anymore. I don't want to push you away... to watch you walk away."

"Then why did you say those things to me?" You feel a bit of relief when the elevator finally opens again, desperate to get out of such close quarters with him.

Spencer follows you out of the elevator, still not wanting to let you go without trying his best to salvage some part of the relationship that he's practically destroyed.

"Because I'm stupid, okay? And a coward, apparently..." He trails off, taking a few fast steps to reach you. He reaches out and puts his hand on your arm once more, stopping your movements.

"You could say that again," You pull no punches, wanting Spencer to feel a fraction of pain that you have since this situationship started. You look back at him, trying to decide whether or not to believe his apologetic display.

His heart clenches again, hurting at your blunt tone, and realizing that you still don't believe him. He knows that he still has a lot of work to do to gain your trust again.

"Please..." He says, looking into your eyes pleadingly, still holding onto your arm "I know I've messed up, but I'm begging you not to walk away... I don't want to lose you."

You sigh, hoping to not live to regret this decision. "Get in the car Reid."

Spencer looks at you in disbelief, almost as if he can't believe that you've decided not to walk away. There's a mixture of relief and gratefulness in his expression. He nods, still holding onto your arm.

"Okay. Okay, I'll get in the car..." He stutters, almost as if agreeing to a compromise, though not fully believing that you're still willing to be in a car with him, alone.

You pull away from him and slump down into the driver's seat. Turning it on and putting it in drive quickly, not giving him much time to get in before just changing your mind and just driving off without him.

He quickly gets into the passenger seat, making sure to keep himself close to the door to allow you as much physical space as possible, not wanting you to change your mind at allowing him to ride in your car with you.

He sits there quietly for a moment, unable to figure out what to say after your previous interaction. He doesn't want to screw anything up again, so he settles for remaining silent until you speak.

You settle in and just start driving, not exactly sure of where you are heading and finding it a bit difficult to decide where to go. You risk a glance over at him and he's looking utterly pathetic. Curled up on himself obviously feeling terrible. Finally, you decide to just drive home, not wanting to be in public anymore. He watches you drive, keeping silent and staying as still as possible. He tries to keep himself from glancing over at you, though he finds it hard not to. Spencer feels desperate to reach out to you, to try to comfort you, but he knows that his touch is probably the very last thing you want right now. So he stays silent and keeps his distance, feeling incredibly guilty and ashamed of how he's behaved. 

You keep on the route to your place wondering what to do now, you sigh softly, unsure of what to say. Suddenly, Spencer realizes what route that you're taking, knowing that it leads to your place. His heart feels like it's constricting, and he's overcome by guilt once again. He doesn't want to take this as an invitation of any sort, as he knows that he has a lot of work to do to earn back your trust. He's willing to put in the effort, but he's afraid that you'll tell him to leave as soon as you pull into the driveway.

You see the last turn coming up at the stop sign, but pause before turning, feeling the beginnings of a migraine start behind your eyes. The fight with Spencer has died down to silent treatment, but the high stress has finally caught up to you. You stop longer than normal at the stop sign and clench your eyes closed for a while, urging it to go away.

He glances in your direction when he notices you’ve stopped the car. You are sitting still with your eyes shut so tightly he can't help but feel concerned. He can tell something is bothering you, but doesn't know if it's okay to ask if you're alright.

"Are you..." He starts to say, hesitating for a moment. He doesn't want to annoy you by asking if you're okay, but he really can't hold back his caring nature. "...Are you alright?"

"I'm fine" You snap at him, not ready to hear him speak quite yet. You force your eyes back open, the migraine still lurking. You take the final turn and rush to pull into the driveway, parking in the garage.

Spencer flinches a bit at your sharp reply, realizing that he probably should have just kept quiet. He watches as you pull into the garage and sighs, knowing that it's probably time for him to go. Still, he doesn't dare move without you telling him to, or at least without any sort of response from you. Reid is still fighting an internal battle on whether or not to risk reaching for your arm, or if that would just send you over the edge.

You take a deep breath as you shut the car off and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the button to close the garage door behind the car. You don't instruct Spencer to do anything, just exiting the car and entering the house without shutting the door behind you.

He swallows hard, seeing you get out of the car without saying anything. He slowly unbuckles his seatbelt as well, feeling the weight of guilt upon him heavier than ever. He takes his time getting out of the car, almost as if preparing himself to be asked to leave. After he climbs out of the car, he slowly closes the passenger door and follows you inside, unsure if you'll be happy or pissed to see him.

You remove your jacket and hang it up on one of the hooks and toe off your shoes, giving Reid a pointed glare that he should remove his too. He quickly removes his shoes, placing them carefully next to yours. He knows better than to make you mad by leaving his shoes on, especially in your home.

You make your way into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of ice water and chugging it down. You open the freezer for an ice pack and drape it around your neck, hoping that it'll stop the migraine that you can already feel will be a bad one.

Spencer watches you hurry into the kitchen, silently noticing your strange behavior. He feels a pang of concern, knowing that something has to be wrong if you're taking such measures. He follows you into the kitchen, though he doesn't walk up right behind you. Spencer keeps his distance, his heart twisting in worry when he finally puts together that you have a headache. And it seems to be a fairly severe one.

You head towards the bedroom, closing the blinds and letting out a sigh of relief as you are finally free of the painful sunlight before turning around to look at Spencer who you have heard following you through the house. Spencer doesn't dare come any closer to you, afraid that his presence will be unwelcome.

"Reid," You whisper.

Spencer’s breath hitches as you finally speak to him, the sound of your voice making his heart constrict. He doesn't allow himself to hope that you calling out for him could possibly be a sign of forgiveness, but a part of him can't help but feel just a little optimistic. "Yes..?" He answers, his voice just as quiet as yours.

"I'm still angry, but right now, I'm in a lot of pain. Please…draw me a bath." Your voice is so quiet it's almost difficult to hear, but Spencer heard it anyway, his heart sinking a bit when you tell him that your anger hasn’t wavered. However, his expression quickly changes to concern when you tell him that you’re hurt. His heart aches with sympathy and guilt, hating knowing that you're in pain, guessing (correctly) that it is due to him causing you so much emotional turmoil.

Spencer swallows hard, before responding "Y-Yeah, I can draw you a bath... Anything for you..."

You watch as Spencer leaves towards the bathroom and then you sit down on the bed, hearing the water start to run. You massage your temples and take deep breaths.

Spencer enters the bathroom, turning on the faucet to draw a warm bath for you. He can't help but think of how pathetic he feels. He used to have the courage to pull you closer and hold you when you were hurting, but now he doesn't even know if he's allowed to ask if he can get closer to examine the source of your pain. He's scared of doing anything that would just make you push him away even more. When he's finished drawing the bath, he hesitantly peaks his head into your bedroom, not wanting to startle you and worsen your headache.

When you hear the tap turn off, you look up and see Spencer waiting. Standing up and making your way over to the bathroom, you throw all caution into the wind and decide to rely on Spencer to help you through the pain. You sit down on the chair in the bathroom and look over at Spencer, the exhaustion clear in your eyes. "Help me undress for the bath. I'm too tired to do it myself. Turn the light off first." You say, needing darkness mostly because of the migraine, but you are also relieved that the darkness can help you shield yourself from him seeing you so vulnerable.

Spencer wastes no time and  immediately switches off the light as soon as you request for him to do so. He doesn't want you to feel even more pain from the light in your already weakened state. Reid quietly walks over to stand in front of you, looking down at you with a compassionate, though hesitant expression. "Are you... Are you sure about this? Letting me... Undress you?" He asks, feeling a bit nervous.

"Don't make me repeat myself.” Your voice is cold and tired as you feel exhaustion pulling at your bones. You carefully lean your head back against the ice pack. “I'm not asking you to do this because I want something from you."

He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling aside that you're just using him as nothing more than a tool right now. The feeling hurts him more painfully than a bullet wound. He reaches for the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up so that he can help you remove it, though he tries to avoid looking at anything and keeps his eyes focused solely on helping you. Once he gets your shirt over your head, he hesitantly puts his hands on the waistline of your pants, his eyes still averted from your body. He swallows again, before speaking up. "Lift your hips so I can remove your pants..."

You set the ice pack down so it doesn't make a loud noise if it falls. Your arms fall limply as he removes your shirt but you give no reaction at all, face blank and eyes are tired. "I'm not sure if I have the strength to do that right now" You sniffle as you feel tears rush to your eyes.

His heart clenches with sympathy as you sniffle, and he has to fight the sudden, overwhelming urge to wrap you up in a hug and run a comforting hand through your hair. He knows can't do that right now. He just has to keep reminding himself that you don't want his touch.

However, he can still comfort you with his words.

"It's alright, I'll help you..." He says reassuringly. He kneels down on the ground in front of you, gently taking one of your hands in his own.

You watch him, tears falling down your cheeks silently.

He gently squeezes your hand in reassurance, trying to offer some sort of comfort to you. He quickly but carefully pulls your pants down, lifting each of your legs up to help you take them all the way off. Once he has removed your pants, he carefully returns your legs to the ground, before speaking up in a soft tone. "I'm going to help you into the bathtub now, okay? Do you think you can stand?"

A sob leaves your lips "I don't think so" You whisper.

He feels another wave of guilt wash over him, hating how weak and helpless you seem in this moment, and he hates himself even more for being the reason you're feeling this way. "Okay, that... that's fine..." He says, his voice thick with sympathy. His heart twists in his chest painfully as you sob, feeling absolutely awful about this whole situation. He slowly guides you off the seat, putting his arms around you for support.

As you near the tub, the climb to get in looks taller than a mountain and one of your legs twitch, but refuses to pull up high enough to make it over the side.

Spencer notices your hesitation as you approach the edge of the bathtub, and can guess that you won't be able to get into the tub on your own. "Hey, hey, it's okay..." He soothes, holding you closer to him. He gently puts an arm under your bottom and one behind your back, lifting you up carefully so that you're able to get into the tub.

You are shaky as Spencer sets you down on your feet and then you realize that you are standing nude right in front of him, but he's treating you so gently. "Help me lie down please, I don't want to fall" You keep your voice quiet, barely even a whisper. However, since there is no noise in the house, it still feels loud.

Spencer turns his face to the side, looking away to give you some sense of privacy as he carefully lowers you down into the bathtub. His hands are extremely gentle, his touch barely even registering on your skin as he helps you sit down . Once you're in, he stands up, averting his eyes, trying his best to make sure you don't feel as though he’s taking advantage of the situation.

"Do you... need help with anything else?" He asks, though he doesn't know what else he could possibly help you with while you're sitting in the bathtub. He just doesn't want to leave until he's certain that you're okay.

"Pass me the ice pack please." Your response is soft, and you can’t help but feel slightly pathetic at your inability to do anything. If you sat up, you’d likely be able to reach it yourself, but the pounding in your head keeps you from making any movements at all.

Spencer is happy to help, not even pausing before reaching for the ice pack that was already sitting on the little shelf on the side of the tub. He watches you take it from him, trying to resist the urge to help you place it around your neck, or to even reach for the washcloth on the other side of the bathtub.

You lean your head back and place the ice pack over your eyes, sitting in silence for a moment, weighing the options and deciding to keep Spencer around. Because even though he’s hurt you, he's still a comforting presence "could you..." I trail off, unsure of whether or not I should actually ask him.

Spencer is standing nearby, a respectable distance away. He doesn't want to overstep. However, when you seem to think better of whatever it was you were about to ask, his curiosity piques. "Hm? Could I what?"

"Massage my shoulders? I know it sounds weird, but sometimes it helps the pain go away." You feel ashamed for having to ask for so much help and are glad that the ice pack covers most of your face so he can't see your shame.

Reid blinks in surprise, a bit shocked at your request, though he's not sure if he's shocked at the fact that you're seeking so much physical comfort from him, or if it's at the fact that you're asking for a massage. He swallows hard, contemplating whether or not it's really okay for him to touch you in such an intimate way.

His silence has you jumping to conclusions. "You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable. If you want to leave, it's okay. You've done enough already" You say, not wanting him to feel trapped just because you’re hurting.

He quickly takes a small step closer to you, still unable to look at your body, but not wanting to let you believe he's going to leave. "No... no, it's alright... I can do it for you, I don't mind..." He says, trying to sound reassuring.

You sigh in relief knowing that he's going to help you and try to keep yourself from crying again.

His heart continues to twist with both sympathy and guilt for you, hating the way you look in this moment. So weak. So tired. He hates himself for being the cause, and he feels a lump in his throat, but he tries his hardest to push it down and focus on you. "Do you mind if I get in the bathtub with you?" He asks hesitantly, trying to make the question as un-suggestive as possible. Knowing that there's no way in hell he could massage you from outside of the tub without being completely awkward. The bathtub is tucked inside of a nook, and the open edge is to the side…if he were to try to massage you from the outside, it wouldn’t be very effective.

You pause for a moment, knowing why he's asked, but still feeling a little awkward "You can. But could you keep your underwear on please? I'd be more comfortable that way."

He swallows painfully at your request, a pang stabbing his heart as you clarify the necessity of him keeping his underwear on. Not that he would do otherwise. He's not a pig. However, the fact that you need to clarify such things speaks volumes on your level of current comfort and trust in him, and it makes his heart sink even more. "Of course I will... I'll keep them on, I swear."

You wait in silence hearing him undress, but you don't move to remove the ice pack from your eyes. Happy to have a blindfold.

Spencer slowly starts to remove his shirt. He's feeling even more vulnerable than usual at the moment, stripping down to his underwear in front of you. Reid is well aware that you aren’t looking at him, but this situation is very different than he’s used to and he feels unsure in the moment. He quickly removes the rest of his clothes before losing his nerve and slowly lowers himself in the bathtub behind you, swallowing hard as he tries to keep his eyes averted from your body. He hesitantly reaches for you, his fingers gently touching your shoulders, giving them a light pinch.

You let out soft cries, your shoulders being really tense. It hurts, and that much is obvious. But in order to curb the migraine, it’s necessary to push through the pain.

He almost flinches at the noise, feeling a pang in his heart as he hears you cry out from the pain, but he tries to push the feeling away as he slowly starts to massage your shoulders. "Tell me if you need me to stop... or if I'm pressing too hard..."

"Okay," You whisper, it was so soft that you wonder if it actually left your lips or not.

He continues massaging your shoulders, slowly and gently. He tries his hardest to be mindful of the pressure. He can see the expression on your face. At least the part of your face that isn’t covered by the ice pack. He knows that it's not completely comfortable for you, but he also knows that discomfort is to be expected. It's a massage. They're never comfortable. He keeps his hands placed carefully on your shoulders, trying his best to avoid touching elsewhere on your body...

You bring your hands up to hold the ice pack against your eyes as you lean forward, wanting him to massage a little bit lower on your back. "Are you still there?" You ask, knowing why he's being silent, but he's hesitant too.

"Yeah..." He responds in a soft tone, his hands still positioned on your shoulders, massaging your bare skin there. They hesitate as he tries to gauge whether or not he should move them lower. He finally decides to move them down, lowering his hands inch by inch, careful not to touch anywhere inappropriate.

You decide that's enough on your back and lean your full weight back against him, resting your head on his shoulder, and allowing the ice pack to just sit atop your eyes. ‘It's so much easier to be near him when I don't have to see anything’ you think to yourself.

His breath hitches as you lean back against him, sitting right against his chest. He stiffens up a little bit, not expecting such a move, feeling a mixture of surprise and a tiny bit of panic. He was not expecting anything like this... but also, he knows that he should have. He slowly resumes massaging your shoulders, trying to keep himself from reacting to having you so close against him, forcing himself to remain calm.

"You can stop massaging my shoulders now," You whisper quietly, "just hold me." The request is more of a plea, feeling the need to feel loved in the moment.

He almost sighs in relief that you've finally asked for physical comfort from him again. He immediately stops massaging your shoulders, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close, feeling his heart race at finally getting to hold you again. His arms wrap fully around you, pulling you securely back against his chest, letting his cheek rest gently against the top of your head.

"Spencer" You say softly.

His heart skips a beat as you speak, but he doesn’t remove his cheek that rests on the top of your head. He swallows hard, loving the sound of your voice as you speak his name, feeling a wave of relief that you're finally speaking to him on a first name basis again. It means you're finally forgiving him. He can't help but whisper his response in return. "Yes?"

"Don't hurt me again. You've never seen the aftermath until now, but I get these migraines each time you do this. I can't bear another." You don't move and just lie there, listening to his breathing. All the fight has left you, and you just want his love again.

His heart sinks deeper and deeper as your words seem to echo in his brain. The pain returns to his chest knowing that he had hurt you this bad so many times. He feels the burn in his eyes, threatening to turn into tears, but he desperately holds them back, not wanting to lose control in front of you. Today isn’t about him. Spencer refuses to be selfish anymore. He swallows hard, his hold on you tightening, but not too much that it would be uncomfortable. He's desperate to feel you as close to him as possible. "I won't... I swear, I won't do it again..."

"I believe you" You whisper, hoping that you’re not foolish for doing so.

He feels a pang of hope at your words, loving the way that you trust him, even now, when you have every reason not to. "Good... good, that's good..." He says, still trying to keep himself and his emotions in check. He knows better than to push his luck by asking for too much, but he can't help himself, whispering his next words in a quiet, pleading tone. "Can... can I ask you something?"

"What?" You keep your tone neutral, even in whispers.

Spencer swallows hard, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. He knows that you can probably feel it against your back... he tries to steady his voice, feeling extremely nervous at the thought of asking you this. "Can, I... Can I kiss you...?" If you were to look at his face right now, you would see that his eyes are screwed shut, as if he's unable to hold your gaze, as if he's too nervous to look.

You remove the ice pack from your eyes and gaze up at his face "Spencer" You say, waiting for him to turn back to you.

He swallows hard, keeping his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for whatever you're going to say. He was really hoping that you'd just say yes, that you'd let him kiss you. But he has a horrible feeling that you're about to reject him, and he's trying to hold himself together for when that happens. "Yes...?" He responds, slowly opening his eyes, his heart speeding in his chest as he turns his gaze down to look at you.

You can sense his fear of rejection, and while you still feel sorrowful at the events of today, you’re no longer angry. "It would be an awkward angle to try and kiss in this tub" Yousay, slightly sarcastically but not denying his wish.

His heart stops racing as he notices that you haven't actually said "no" yet. In fact, he's almost certain that that was... dare he think it... you actually accepting it…?? His hopes rise even further hearing you mention that it'd be an awkward angle to kiss in the tub. He can't help but let a little smirk creep onto his face as he responds. "So, if we weren't in the bathtub, you wouldn't mind?"

You roll your eyes. Spencer is back. "Oh brother." You can't help it, a small smile creeps onto your face even with the migraine, though under Spencer’s care, it has ebbed away considerably.

He feels his heart almost skip a beat as he notices your small smile, feeling a wave of relief and hope as he sees you finally, truly smiling at him again. A weight that he didn't know was on his chest feels like it's being lifted, as he responds just as sarcastically as you were being, a smile still playing on his lips. "Hey, don't roll your eyes at me."

"I can do whatever I please, Spencer."

Spencer feels the sudden urge to laugh loudly, but reels himself back in, feeling his heart swell with happiness as you banter with him. He loves this, seeing you finally act like yourself around him again. Finally forgiving him. He responds playfully, not wanting the banter to end. "Whatever you say. I'm still gonna call you out for rolling your eyes at me though."

"You deserved it" Your response is blunt, but still laced with humor.

He smirks again, feeling a bit of his confidence returning. He's loving this playful banter. This feels so familiar. So... normal. He missed this. "You're rude." He responds, in the same playful manner.

"Only because you're dumb" You retort. To the untrained ear, this conversation may seem rude, but it feels so natural with Spencer to tease him this way.

Hearing you call him dumb almost makes him burst into laughter. He's so incredibly relieved that you're acting this way. So playful and sarcastic again. He's not used to you being serious and upset. He responds in the same playful manner, not to be outdone. "Says the girl who lets the guy who 'keeps hurting her' hold her in the bathtub..."

"Give me more sense and I might just change my mind. Don't tempt me." You cock your eyebrow and give him the side eye.

He tries to keep the smirk off of his face, knowing that you probably need rest right now. Hell, he needs some rest...however, he can't help but tease you just a little bit. "Well, that's a shame. I like tempting you."

You glare at him out of the corner of your eye again. "Dumbass." You whisper.

He snickers, trying his hardest not to just burst out into full-on laughter. He loves this, he loves hearing you insult him. It feels right. It feels like things are actually getting back to normal... 

He responds, again, as playful as possible. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Princess. That's the best you've got?"

"You really want me to dig into you, don't you? Is this some weird degradation kink you have? I'm not into that kind of thing."

He almost actually laughs this time, some of the noise escaping from his lips. Your quick wit always surprises him…you're even implying that he has a 'degradation kink'??? He's definitely not into that.

He snickers one more time before responding, hoping you're just teasing him. "If I had a degradation kink, I don't think I'd be the one getting talked down to here, Princess..."

"You insult me and those will be your final words, Reid" You pull his last name back to show you mean business.

His eyes widen at the stern sound of his last name being said by you. He feels a pang in his heart, but then he notices the hint of a playful smirk on your face, making him sigh in relief. His response comes in a softer tone, though he definitely isn't admitting defeat. "Fine, fine. I'll shut up..."

You let out a soft giggle and relax against him again.

Spencer feels his heart swell as he hears you giggle. It's like music to his ears. It's literally the first laugh he's heard you let out since he hurt you, and it's absolutely beautiful... He swallows hard, trying to keep himself from getting too carried away, as he decides to press his luck a little bit. "Hey, um... Can I ask you something kind of weird, or random?"

"You're full of questions, aren't you doctor?"

He grins a little bit at the fact that you still refuse to call him by his first name, but he'll get there. 

However, hearing you call him 'doctor' does bring another thought to his mind that makes his heart swell... "Yep. And I plan on asking a lot more."

"Fine. Hit me with it" You relent, curious as to what he has to ask.

He takes a deep breath, slowly trying to form the words he wants to say... "Uh... I was kind of wondering if... Um..." He says, pausing for a moment, suddenly feeling so nervous about this. But he needs to ask, so he finally forces the question out without hesitation. "Could I call you by a nickname..?"

You freeze. Well that was unexpected. You turn your head to look at him the best you can while lying against him, "What did you have in mind?" You ask tentatively.

He swallows hard, seeing the unsure look on your face at his suggestion. He decides to just go for it... "It's... stupid... but, um..." He pauses for another second, still nervous that you'll say 'no'. "Can I call you... 'Baby'?"

You giggle a little "Come on doctor, be a little more creative."

He can't help the grin on his face when hearing your challenge. He really loves your attitude, and he really wishes that he wasn't such a coward. He knows that 'baby' is so boring and unoriginal... "Fine, fine..." He grumbles before continuing. "Can I call you..." He pauses for a second, trying to think of a good nickname… "Babe?"

You groan, "That's somehow even worse!" You turn to tuck your shoulder against his side so you can look at him better.

Spencer can't help but chuckle a bit, loving your sassiness and your stubbornness. "Okay, you're just being difficult now..." He responds playfully, feeling his heart race as he looks down at your gaze.

"If I'm gonna allow a nickname, doctor, it better be a good one. Keep thinking."

Spencer feels his heart speed in his chest, loving it when you call him 'doctor' again, especially in the playful manner that you're doing it in. However, he knows that he has a challenge ahead of him... Reid lets out a deep sigh, but he keeps searching for a good nickname. He can't think of anything else off the top of his head though... "Um... I don't know... I'm not so good with this sort of thing, but... 'babe', 'baby', 'darling'... I just don't know."

"You decided on wanting to give me a nickname before thinking of a good one? How short sighted" You say holding in your laughter.

He almost huffs in annoyance, though he's mostly just amused by you. "Shut up." Spencer responds, still looking for a good nickname. He doesn't want to give up yet. "How about..." He says, trying to think of a good pet name that would suit you.

"What is it this time?" You sigh and rest your head against his shoulder and lay your hand on his chest.

He wrecks his mind to find another nickname, hoping that it isn't too corny. "Sweetheart?" He almost scoffs as he says it, realizing right away that it's so unoriginal. At this point, he's actually starting to grow frustrated with himself and how awful he is at pet names.

Your face scrunches up "Ummm...."

He sighs heavily seeing your reaction, knowing that all his attempts have been failures. "Oh, come on, I'm not good at this. If you can come up with something better, then be my guest."

"Sweetie?"

He nearly snorts, thinking that that one is just as bad as 'sweetheart.' "Sweetie?" He responds, trying to hold back his laughter.

You pout. "Hey! You're not being very friendly. I AM sweet."

He can't help but laugh at the little pout on your face. "Okay, okay, you're sweet, but the nickname still makes me wanna laugh." He says still chuckling a bit.

"Isn't it a good thing that the nickname brings you joy too?" ‘Laughter is a good thing, is it not?’ you think to yourself.

Spencer’s laughter dies down as he thinks about what you just said. "I mean... yeah. But I'm pretty sure it's supposed to bring you joy... You're the one that I'm trying to find a nickname for, not me."

"Well, try it out. Use it in a sentence or something and I'll tell you what I think of it."

He hesitates for a second before slowly nodding. "Okay..." He responds quietly, before finally saying it out loud. "...Sweetie?"

You squeal and kick your legs a little bit "No way! That gives you far too much power, we have to think of one that doesn't make me want to hug you." Your tone is full of merriment.

At your reaction to the nickname, Spencer lets out a hearty laugh, smiling as you kick your legs a bit and giving you a curious glance. "Oh? And why wouldn't you want to hug me?"

You squint your eyes at him "You're testing me again. Foolish man."

He smirks, enjoying your playful banter too much to stop. "I absolutely am." He responds, almost daring you to challenge him further.

You let out a ‘humph’ and turn back around, quickly pressing your weight back against him, trying to knock the breath out of his chest. When you hear an ‘OOF,’ you know that you were successful at catching him off guard.

"Feisty... I like it..."

"I'll show you feisty, you popsicle stick" You mumble.

He chuckles at your pathetic little insult. "A popsicle stick? Come on. You can insult me better than that."

"Again with the degradation kink. What is it with you??? Weirdo." The last word comes out in a whisper, trying to sound horrified at Spencer.

"Hey, I'm not the one who came up with a not-so insulting nickname that makes us both sound very hungry, princess..."

You glance back at him wondering if he's realized it yet, but alas, Spencer is as thick headed as he is smart. His face is the picture of dumbfounded confusion. He hasn’t realized anything.

"Uh... What?" Spencer says cautiously.

"You've already given me a nickname, ya nitwit" Punctuating your sentence with an eye roll.

"Wait, what? No I haven't. Sweetheart doesn't count..." ‘Clueless as ever,’ you think at his response.

"If I keep rolling my eyes, I'm gonna lose them in the back of my head at this point. I need to talk to whoever tested your genius and give him a piece of my mind. That's not what I meant."

"Then...what the hell are you talking about?"

"Princess" You say with a 'duh' tone. "You only use it when you're being sassy, but you've used it more than once tonight."

He feels like an idiot. "Oh...right..." He pauses for a moment, finally coming to a realization. "But...it's not even a real nickname. I mean, I don't really call you princess seriously."

At that, you fix him with a deadly glare. "Am I or am I not a pretty princess?"

He immediately regrets what he just said, the fact that you're a princess being extremely obvious in his eyes. "Yes! Yes, you're a pretty princess..."

"Good. It's settled then."

He sighs in relief. Feeling like he's escaped your ire for now. "I can't believe I didn't realize I'd already given you a nickname until right now." He pauses for a second, though he has another question. "How long have you noticed that I only call you that when I'm being sassy?" Genuinely wondering how long he's been subconsciously calling you that without realizing it.

"I notice a lot more than you do, doctor." Your response stays cryptic, not wishing to give away how long you have been making tiny notes about how he shows affection.

He scoffs a bit as he responds. "Alright, yeah. Don't rub it in, princess." Spencer tries to hold back a grin.

You let out a sigh, deciding that you want to get out of the tub, but would rather be clean first "The princess has a demand for her most loyal servant" You say in an over-the-top royal voice.

He barely holds himself together at your sudden change in character. He decides to indulge you, enjoying the banter.

"Yes, your majesty. Anything for you." He responds, playing along with your little game.

You give him a sideways glance "are you truly the most loyal" You ask, squinting your eyes at him in scrutinization.

He smirks as he responds, already knowing what you're getting at.

"I assure you, Princess, I am most loyal to no one more than you." He says, giving you a playful wink.

"Very well then. I need to be washed. Grab the soap, my servant."

He smiles, loving how into this you're getting as he reaches for the soap.

"Yes, Princess." Spencer responds, reaching to hand you the soap so that you can wash yourself. He doesn't know what the extent of your 'demands' will be.

You turn back around and make no moves to reach for the soap "well?" You say expectantly.

His hand freezes in midair, holding a bar of soap and he is back to being unsure of what to do.

"You want me to wash you myself?" He asks cautiously, not wanting to cross any boundaries here.

"A princess does not wash herself." You say petulantly.

He finally smiles, amused by your playfulness as he responds. "Yes, your majesty." He says, before beginning to run the bar of soap gently down your back, washing your shoulders first.

"You know, your majesty is reserved for a queen. Your highness is what you call a princess" You say this a little absentmindedly, appreciating his gentle movements.

He grins a bit, amused by your correction of his incorrect use of royal terminology. He continues washing your back before responding. "I'll be sure to remember that, your highness." He moves one of his hands to gently run along your side, washing your waist now.

You take a deep breath and relax against him once again. "I'll forgive the misspeak, this time."

"Thank you, your highness." He responds playfully, moving the soap along your waist and stomach. "Now, if you'll permit me... Could I have the honor of washing your chest?"

"My request to be washed included my whole body, you lowly servant" You say this in a 'you should know that' tone.

A grin splits Spencer’s face at your little scolding tone, loving your princess behavior. "Yes, of course, your highness. My apologies." He responds, moving one hand closer to the middle of your chest now, gently lathering soap across your skin there.

You bite your lip to hide your grin, pleased at how he's treating you with such care.

However, Spencer spots your grin and he just knows that you're enjoying this. He decides to test your royal highness by asking another question. "May I ask something, your highness?"

You pull your face back to a royal one and give him a sideways glance. "I'll allow it."

‘Gosh, I missed seeing her like this’ Spencer thinks to himself. ‘She really fits the princess title.’ He moves his hand along your chest, making sure to get every spot. "Well... I was just wondering... Do you really need help washing your legs?" He asks, a little bit nervous about your reaction. He knows he's pushing it a little bit here.

You scoff again "You tell me servant, are my legs a part of my body?" You know you’re being a brat, but this game is far too fun to stop now.

A smirk cracks his face, scaring away his nervousness. He’s always loved how stubborn you are, and right now is exactly why. "Yes, your highness, your legs are indeed a part of your body."

"Then use the tiny brain that you seem to possess and rethink the order I gave you."

His smirk grows, finding this little bit of your stubbornness strangely playful and adorable. He moves his hand down to your thighs. "Very well, your highness. I will use my tiny brain to wash your legs now."

"Smart choice. Make another mistake and I'll have your head." Teasing him is far too much fun. It's not everyday that you can call a genius a pea-brain.

His smirk refuses to leave his face, knowing that your threat holds no weight. He moves his hands down from your thighs to your calves, making sure that your legs are covered completely in soap.

"Don't worry, I'm a quick learner." He responds, still in the playful mood.

"It isn't me that should be worrying. Princesses do not worry over petty servants" Crossing your arms to punctuate the sentence.

He lets out a soft laugh at your little show of attitude. He decides to play along again, playing the role of the humble servant and 'admitting his mistake.'"Forgive me, your highness. What I meant to say was that I know you do not worry because you are a princess who doesn't worry over petty servants."

"Goodness, I can almost feel your tiny brain growing the longer you spend in my royal presence."

Spencer snorts a bit, loving the way that you keep coming up with new ways to say that his brain is small. It's honestly almost cute the way you keep trying. "Yes, all of the royal knowledge that you've bestowed upon me is truly overwhelming me, your highness."

"I am endlessly gracious, aren't I?"

He smiles, loving how fast your sarcasm comes in this situation, deciding to push the boundary just a bit further. "Yes, yes, you truly are endlessly gracious. Now... I do have one last place that your highness needs washed. Or do you want to do that yourself?" He asks, trying to fight back a smirk.

"Lowly servant! Must I repeat myself again, or would you rather keep your head?" You give him a look saying that you know what he's thinking, but there's no way you’ll be backing down from this challenge.

He smirks, loving how committed you are to your little act. He decides to continue, already knowing that you're not gonna back down. "My apologies, your highness. You'll have to give me specific instructions though... Your loyal servant is a bit dense."

"Dense is to gracious a word for how pathetic my lowly servant is, my God. If you don't wash me there right now, I will have you thrown out on your behind. Headless."

The chuckle he lets escape his lips hearing your stubbornness is downright sinful... but the more you talk like this...he has to admit...fuck it’s turning him on. He does his best to hide it though, knowing that it would ruin the game. "Oh, your highness, I beg of you, please forgive me for my mistake." He moves his hands down further, gently rubbing soap onto the parts of your inner thighs, slowly letting his hands move closer and closer to your innermost area.

"Is there no end to my graciousness? I will forgive you only if you complete your final task perfectly."

Spencer smirks, he absolutely loves your little game. "There truly is no end to your graciousness, your highness..." He moves even closer, his hands almost... but not quite touching your most sensitive area. "I pray I can complete this final task perfectly."

"Don't pray to a god, my servant, pray to me" You tilt your head back against his shoulder and let out a sensual exhale.

His smirk grows, loving that you're enjoying this just as much as he is. "You are right... I am no true believer of a god..." He responds before leaning in a little closer, speaking gently in your ear with a voice full of reverence and devotion. "I pray to only you, your highness."

"You truly are my most loyal" You whisper in anticipation of him finally reaching me where you need it most.

His jaw nearly drops as he hears you speak in such a sensual tone. He almost loses it, and he nearly does lose it as he recognizes the soft anticipation behind your voice. He decides to get right to the point, slowly moving his hands forward until he's just barely touching you, the feeling making his heart race even more. "Your highness... May I...? It is my final task..."

"Please" Your voice comes out desperate, your facade of being demanding crumbling slightly. "Make your goddess feel good."

He swallows hard at your desperate plea, feeling his heart race at the use of the term 'goddess' from you. Spencer can see it clearly now, you are his goddess, and he keeps returning to you, longing to worship you. He decides to go for it, trying to fight back a moan as he responds in a low tone. "As my goddess commands..." He slowly moves one of his hands forward, finally touching you between your legs.

A breath leaves you quickly in relief, and your hips buck up against his hand, Spencer knows just how to build up your desperation, and he’s done his best work tonight.

Spencer feels your reaction to his touch and lets out a pained groan. He leans a bit more forward, kissing your cheek and bringing his mouth closer to your ear. "Just relax and follow my lead, my goddess..." He says, his voice low and soft, full of lust and devotion, as he starts to gently caress and explore you with his fingers.

"As you wish" You manage to say, your voice breathy and full of need.

Spencer’s heart skips a beat hearing your voice, the need, the trust, the desperation in it fueling his flame. Spencer starts slow with gentle circles around your clit, but he gives a light tap tap tap against it and you jolt at the intense feeling. He can't help but let out a sigh, his breath warm against your neck, as he feels himself getting more worked up by this with every passing second. Spencer does his very best to hold back a groan, but he can't help but feel like this is the most intimate moment he's ever shared with you. You have trusted him to care for you when you were hurting, and now you are allowing him to bring you pleasure.

"More~~" You truly can't help but beg him regardless of the fact it’s unnecessary to do, he's always known exactly what you need.

He lets out a soft, shaky moan as you whimper into his ear, your soft voice sending a shiver down his spine. He obliges, his fingers still moving in a circular motion, continuing to massage that same place with the same slow, gentle pace as he whispers into your ear with a low, shaky breath. "That's it, my goddess... Just let me take care of you..." Spencer moves his other hand down to join the first and gently circles your entrance before gently dipping inside.

A broken moan leaves your lips. ‘Finally,’ you think with a sigh of relief.

His heartbeat speeds up even more, his breath becoming more and more shaky as the moment grows even more intimate. He starts to increase his pressure against your clit, dipping his long fingers as deep as they can reach. His fingers gradually speed up their pace and movement, continuing to let your soft, needy moans and whimpers fill his ears as the sound drives him crazy. He begins to kiss and nibble on your neck and jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

Your breath picks up speed, and your hips can no longer keep still, you need more, but don't know how to ask for it.

But you needn’t say a word. Spencer can feel the need in your movements, as well as hear it in the soft breaths that are leaving your lips. He knows what you need, so he takes it upon himself to give it to you, as he synchronizes the movements of both of his hands and turns to bite down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, trying to fight back a moan of his own as he feels how badly you want it.

"Spencer" You finally break, crashing through your release, your hands grasping at his wrists to hold his hands against you, not allowing them to leave your body.

His jaw drops a bit, breathing deeply through his nose trying to keep his composure. He feels you spasming around his fingers, and he gently guides you through the feeling and slowly brings you back to the present. He can't help but moan a little bit, feeling your hands hold him in place, keeping him down there. He waits until you've rode it out before slowly, reluctantly and gently pulling his hands away.

"Thank you" It’s an odd thing to say in a moment like this, but it feels right anyway.

He lets out an unsteady breath, almost like he's panting from all of the emotion and need of the moment, before voicing his response. "You're welcome, my goddess..." Pulling his head away from your neck, Spencer stares at you for a moment and his eyes scan your face, as if he's looking at you for the first time. He stares at you for a few more seconds, the love and care crystal clear in his gaze before he finally speaks again. "You're so beautiful like this..."

"Help me from the tub, my loyal follower, I'm starting to catch a chill from the cooling water" You look at him, and the emotions in his eyes reflect in your own.

"Yes, my goddess." He responds with a soft, warm smile, slowly standing up without breaking eye contact with you. Spencer’s hands gently tuck under your arms, using his strength to lift you from the water and he helps you out of the tub before quickly grabbing a towel to help you dry off. Spencer starts on his next task to softly dry every last part of you...just because he can.

You stand there watching him dry you reverently, finally feeling the love you've been needing for so long.

Spencer stares into your eyes as he gently rubs the towel over your bare skin, drying every last part of you off without missing an inch. It's clear from the look in his eyes that he loves nothing in this world as much as he loves doing this with you, taking care of you and loving on you. Once he's finally satisfied that you're dry, he glances down, grabbing the edge of the towel and gently wrapping it around your body, leaving you tucked into a little bundle.

"I'm a burrito goddess" You say, the migraine has mostly gone away, but you blame it for the stupid comment anyway as you make your way back to the bedroom and grab a fluffy robe. After putting it on, you open the drawer that holds a few spare clothes Spencer left behind at your place from last nights he spent here and pass him a clean and dry pair of underwear.

He lets out a soft snort at your cute little comment, watching you walk back to the bedroom and put on your fuzzy robe. When you return with his spare underwear, he takes them with one hand, watching you with a small smile. "Thanks." He says, deciding to go on ahead and remove the sopping wet pair he has on and slip the clean pair on right in front of you, not caring if you see. He knows it's silly, but he wants you to see that he's completely comfortable being this vulnerable with you.

"Come lay with me?" You ask, not wanting it to sound sexual, but needing reassurance that he's staying the night.

He looks at you for a second before gently and softly responding. "That was the plan." He responds, loving that you're feeling vulnerable enough to even ask. He walks up to you, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a light hug and taking in your scent, kissing your head softly for a moment before pulling away and staring into your eyes. "Of course I'll lay with you..." He responds, his voice soft and comforting.

You tilt your head back, finally giving him the kiss he asked for at the beginning of the bath.

Spencer leans forward, his eyes fluttering a bit as he finally feels your lips against his, savoring the feeling of you finally kissing him, he closes his eyes and kisses you back softly. After a few seconds, he reluctantly pulls away, though he keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes slowly open to stare into your eyes. He smiles a bit and speaks again. "I could kiss you like that all day."

"Even if people see you do it?" You prod because he seems to lose his nerve to show his feelings for you when you’re not alone. That's why you were hurt in the first place.

Spencer immediately realizes what you're talking about, and his smile slowly fades. "You're right. That was kind of a dick move on my part." He swallows hard, guilt returning, and he can't help but look away from your gaze, ashamed of himself.

"I just don't want you to be ashamed of me, of us." Your voice is soft and non accusatory.

He takes another deep breath before slowly looking back at you, his jaw quivering a bit, his voice shaky. "I'm not ashamed of you. I think you're perfect." He shakes his head, his stomach twisting and churning with guilt. "I'm ashamed of myself. You deserve better than someone like me. Someone who doesn't want to lose everyone around him. Someone who doesn't run away from his feelings. Someone who is terrified of being vulnerable. Someone who doesn't... can't... allow himself to be loved."

"My love is there for you. Whether or not you accept it, is a choice you make on your own." You say this and turn to go lay down, still feeling the exhaustion that grips your bones.

He swallows hard, letting you go as you walk over to the bed. He decides to wait by the edge, watching you, before finally responding softly. "Just a choice I have to make, huh?" He slowly walks over to the bed, climbing under the covers with you. He looks at you for a moment, deciding to try and take a leap here... "And if I decide to take that love that you're offering...What will you do?"

"Give you more" You say it simply, for what else could you do?

Spencer blinks back tears, feeling his heart race and his stomach knot again as he listens to your response, staring at you, not able to look away.

"What could 'more' possibly be? You say that you love me...What could be more than that?" He asks, genuinely curious, as his eyes trace over every detail of your face.

"The amount of love a goddess shares is endless and self sacrificing. I will love you to the ends of the earth. Just stop being afraid of it" You look at him seriously.

His expression softens a bit as he listens to your words, unable to look away from those gorgeous eyes of yours, his heartbeat speeding up as he slowly nods. "I'm just not used to being loved, at least not in a way that isn't painful..." Spencer never breaks eye contact with you, feeling as though he's baring his soul to you in this moment.

"Love shouldn't hurt, Spencer" Calling him by his name feels right again, so you say it with reverence.

He swallows hard again, loving hearing his name on your lips. It's been too long since he's heard that reverent, loving tone come from you.

"I know it shouldn't, my goddess..." He responds, his own voice still shaky, but full of love and care. His head drops back to the pillow and Spencer finally finds the moment too much to keep eye contact. His eyes close.

"Then stop running from it. I'm only your goddess, I don't need any more followers. I have so much love to give and only you to lavish it upon. Let yourself be loved for real."

He slowly nods, reconnecting his gaze with yours. "Alright... Yeah... You're right." His voice is shaky at first, but he slowly finds his confidence again as his voice gains strength and conviction. "I'm tired of running, Princess...I don't want to run anymore. No matter what happens, I'm not leaving you again..."

"Good. That's what I needed to hear." Your tone holds finality in it, and Spencer feels a little stupid at how simple your logic is in this situation. Why hasn’t he seen how well you fit together? Why has it taken him so long to accept your love?

He stares at you for a moment before slowly nodding. "Yeah, me too."

With that, he slowly slides closer to you under the covers, gently wrapping his arms around you, as if making sure that you're real and that he isn't dreaming all of this... Spencer loves the feeling of you in his arms, he loves knowing that you're not going to leave or run away at the first sign of him being vulnerable and trying to trust you.

You finally give in to your exhaustion, drifting off into a pleasant sleep. Spencer watches as your breathing settles and your body relaxes as you fall asleep in his arms, feeling his tense, stressed body calm significantly as he holds you. He takes a moment to just savor the weight and feeling of you in his arms, the feeling of truly loving and being loved with no running, fighting, or hiding. He smiles softly, finally feeling safe, as he kisses your head softly and gently. Without even trying to stay awake, he soon allows you to drag him into sleep with you, and he does so happily, without resistance, finally completely at peace.

[ladygenius]

Crimson Nights & Predators | Part III

Content: in their fairytale surrounding finally, Spencer tells y/n what’s bothering him about the evening

Wordcount: 1300

Category: fluffiest confession fluff🫶🏼

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bullying, verbal abuse

“By the way”, she clearly had to urge the rest of the mysterious booze down her throat, “Obviously, I’ve been planning to share this exquisite finding with my favorite bookworm anyway”, she darted her eyes back up at him.

“Mr. Braggy and his wingman just offered the first opportunity for a little getaway. Whoops.”

She rolled her eyes before facing one of the huge shelves, clearly with a plan in mind. “Alright. This devil’s stuff better made me forget about my vertigo. Hey, what do you think, Spence? Bet I’m gonna find, say, at least an original Twain or Whitman up there.”

Bravely, she climbed the first few steps of the ladder, a little wobbly on her heels maybe but still as gracefully as ever. That was until she leaned over a little too far and just as she reached for a particularly fancy-looking book the wheel mechanism of the ladder set in, catching y/n off guard.

This time, it really was her frightened squeaking as she clung to the shelf and Spencer reacted just in time to stop the ladder before she would have eventually flopped to the ground - ungracefully.

After a moment of shock that lasted longer than it would have with sober brain cells, they both burst out into ringing laughter.

So while Spencer was holding onto the ladder from the start this time as a safety measure, y/n continued her quest for the most ancient-looking copies. He urged himself to look in every direction but ahead of him – y/n’s legs centimeters away from his face - nervous at the sight of their soft skin and perfect shape, he desperately tried to find something to talk about. But it was her voice that made the decision for him.

“Spence.. Can I ask you a question?" his face instinctively tilted upwards, only to shyly dart down again, realizing he didn't want her to think he was trying to get a glimpse up the skirt of her alluring dress. "Do you think I’m being kind of a bitch to Andersson?” The question alone set off an alarm inside him.

“I mean, it’s actually kinda mean… running away from someone like a kid on a playground. But you know, I’ve told him like a gazillion times that I have no interest in going out with him.”

Spencer’s thoughts immediately catapulted him back to the bar. The two men’s degrading comments about y/n and Andersson’s plan to take advantage of her potentially intoxicated self once the evening had come to an end. And yet, here she was feeling sorry for him. It made his heart ache. But fortunately, from where she was standing, she couldn’t see the honest pain plastered on his face.

"Spence, did I say something wrong?" "Oh.. no, y/n. Not at all" She descended carefully, Spencer steadying her with a gentle hand on her back.

"You know.." she hesitated, suddenly their difference in height making her seem so vulnerable and timid again. "I didn't want you to think of me this way but I feared somehow this was reminding you of how you were treated once.. you know, back in high school. I don't want you to think of me as that kind of woman.. you know, leading guys on only to prank them in some demeaning way for everyone to see."

"What, woah, y/n. This isn't even in the slightest comparable. I mean it. Hey, look at me. I would never think of you like that, Okay?" He was incapable of even beginning to explain how far his genuine thoughts about her varied from her assumption.

She nodded doubtfully, her gaze resting on his hand on her shoulder which he immediately pulled back upon noticing.

"It's just.. I feel like you're somehow - angry about something? I don't know. Maybe I'm just reading into it too much but I was afraid we weren't okay.. Cause we are, right?" Her orbs studied him and widened hopefully, as his heart was melting once again at how well she knew him.

"No. You're right.. obviously", he sighed, y/n's chest puffing out anxiously, her brows frowning. "I just can't keep a secret from you, can I?" His timid smile clearly made y/n already feel a little more at ease. "It's those jerks." "What? Andersson and his idiotic wingman? How could simple creatures like them cause brilliant Dr. Reid any trouble?"

"I. I just can't stand how they're treating you.. you know." Y/n seemed baffled for a second. "Oh.. well, yeah, I mean, they're obvious douches and it's annoying Andersson won't ever accept a simple no. But other than staring and asking me to dance he really hasn't done anything I could blame him for. It's sweet of you, though, that you're being different. You actually sense how I'm feeling, you know. You always can."

Her hands settled on the hem of his jacket, where they had already rested earlier this evening, causing nothing but blissful feelings inside him. But now it felt all wrong.

Her eyes searched for his. But he couldn't face her, it hurt too much. Just like he had thought - sooner or later, the fairytale was bound to end.

"Please don't defend them". His lips uttered barely inaudible. "Those pricks sure as hell don't deserve that." Slightly startled by the unlike-him choice of words and the stern sound of his voice, y/n sensed that she must be clueless about the situation.

"What happened, Spence"? She softly tilted up his chin to reveal his hazel eyes meeting hers all blurry.

"They said things about you.. earlier. I overheard them. Disgusting stuff you don't deserve. No one does. I don't even wanna repeat it.. I just can't stand the thought of you being talked about this way y/n. And yet you're the one to worry about treating them fairly. They're nowhere good enough for you anyway. And I know, neither am I, but I would never treat you like that." This last part slipped out unintentionally. And y/n noticed.

It’s over, he thought to himself standing here almost crying, she must think him to be completely embarrassing.

But she just stepped even closer to Spencer, hesitating briefly before decidedly taking his hands inside her own. Finally.

"I know you never would.. That's why I love you." That, too, slipped out somewhat suddenly but not quite as unintentionally. She sensed how loaded this topic was for Spencer, how much she meant to him. She has been suspecting this for a while now, but she was always just too scared to take the leap. And now she couldn't help it. In this perfect location with his protectiveness about her.

His eyes fixated on her own for almost an eternity. Both barely blinked. Whatever happened, it wouldn't be half bad, y/n thought. After all, he finally knew. God, how he deserved to know he was loved like that.

"But.. y/n. Why would you ever, I mean. You're so much more than I am-"

"You are everything to me, Spencer. It doesn't get much bigger than that, I guess. I mean, of course, if you insisted, I could go with the whole universe too.. but the point is, you've always been more than enough because you're you-"

And suddenly it was he who cut y/n short unexpectedly. His lips met hers with the most delicate urgency imaginable. Finally, he could pull her closer without their bodies colliding meaning mere accidental contact.

Her hands around his neck tangled into his soft curls and it still felt like once they let go of each other - it might all be over again. The Fairytale a silly fantasy and reality ready to separate them cruelly.

But as they opened their eyes, everything remained the same. "I love you too, y/n."

Except for the fact that everything was different now.

Spencer's eyes were still blurry from overwhelm, but this time for a better reason as he stared deeply into hers. He cleared his throat, "By the way.. did you end up finding any good first prints up there?" Y/n let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Honest to God.. I don't remember anymore."

~~~~~~~~

What are you doing? Catch up: Part I | Part II

[milky-rose2]

spencer imagine

okay, hear me out.....

what if Spencer got bored and saw a smut book and read it and soon after it turned into a guilty pleasure and he hid one of his many smut books in his desk but one day Morgan found it one day and went to hotch he just said "Who knew spencer would be into that" when suddenly JJ came out and said "I did, in fact he asked me for recommendations"

like sir

[thatboisus]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[luveline]

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room. 

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves.

He struggles to breathe through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls. 

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man has come to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay. 

Maybe Hotch will come. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends far less time in the office, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case. 

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known sharply.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him? 

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens. 

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here? Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway. 

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He’s not talking about the golden ratio or statistical beauty, you’re just stunning. You stop him in his tracks whenever you steal into the office. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates. 

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. Spencer squeezes his eyes closed. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.” 

You pull away, Spencer blinking for his life. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office?

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.” 

“They cut my hair?” he croaks. 

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…” 

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows. 

“You look different than the last time I saw you.” 

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. Why the sudden change?

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets. 

Your fingers slip into his with ease. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves. 

“Of course you can.” 

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…” 

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?” 

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart. 

“What happened to you?” he asks. 

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask. 

“What…” 

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes. 

“Uh…” He feels sick to his stomach.

“Spencer?” 

Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap. 

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.” 

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.” 

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer by a UnSub, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously. 

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing. 

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again. 

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks. 

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap. 

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.” 

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek. 

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.” 

“But I do eventually?” 

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly. 

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer. Whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.” 

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says. 

“Sort of,” Spencer says. 

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then. 

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks. 

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?” 

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks. 

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.” 

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag. 

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it. 

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer. 

“Uh.” 

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.” 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says. 

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.” 

“You dog,” Derek says. 

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.” 

“I do know you,” Spencer says. 

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table. 

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says. 

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.” 

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.” 

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.” 

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

“We’re never apart?” he asks. 

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks. 

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze. 

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks. 

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too. 

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.” 

“We do?” 

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can summon the energy. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.” 

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.” 

“How do you love?” 

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your constant propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day.  “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.” 

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says. 

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh. 

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.” 

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger. 

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask. 

“Anything.” 

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams. 

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.” 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” 

“But did you?” 

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.” 

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t a joke. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.” 

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?” 

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily. 

“What do you think?” 

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh. 

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you. 

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock. 

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly. 

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve– You’re still–?”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?” 

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.” 

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile. 

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?” 

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?” 

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on. 

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space. 

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss. 

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely. 

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him. 

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!” 

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.” 

“Some of it’s still hazy, but not so much you.” 

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?” 

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.” 

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery. I thought the worst that could happen was getting a face full of red velvet or something.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.” 

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.” 

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so devious now.” 

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.” 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thanks for reading!

[chuulyssa]

being an x reader writer and trying to be inclusive of all readers makes me overthink so much like should i write about you having smth with milk in it? no no what if the reader is lactose-intolerant. about the reader being the big spoon? noo what if they wanna be cuddled like a little spoon. about fingers through your hair? noooo what if the person reading it is bald

[mggslover]

Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact.��

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[alana-reid-2005]

we all joke about and objectify this man, but do we stop to think how sad his story is? he grew up friendless and ruthlessly bullied for being a literal genius. constantly picked on by his coworkers, and he’s never in on the joke. he’s always being laughed at, never laughed with because no one understands his existentialist humor. he never has plans or places to go on the weekend after work. he goes to work then goes to his lonely home with all his books to keep him company. on occasion, he haunts the chess table at the park or meets with an old professor. no one takes the time to appreciate his weird little quirks. no one took the time to ask him if he was okay after the several traumatic incidents he endured. no one takes care of him because everyone’s too busy leaving. he could be a male model, yet he’s never thought of himself as attractive. when he does find love, he’s brutally stripped of it before he can blink. spencer reid, the lonely genius who learned of love too late and loss too soon.

[tlou-reid]

Invisible String ❆ Spencer Reid

☃︎ SUMMARY: spencer’s new gf shows him a photo her mother sent. he happens to recognize it.

☃︎ WARNINGS: very short lol, mentions of diana and her dementia, all around cuteness

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

“And isn’t it just so pretty think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

“Spencer!” You were practically sprinting through the BAU, with your arm extended and a phone in your hand. “Spencer!” You yelled with more urgency as you came to a clumsy stop behind his chair. He spun around to face you with furrowed eyebrows and a perplexed expression.

“Are you okay?” He asked, resting his hands on your hips for a moment, just briefly. He made sure you were steady before he let go, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to the public display of affection currently going on behind his desk. It was hard enough to keep the higher ups off of your backs for just dating, let alone showing off your relationship.

You nodded excitedly, forcing your phone into his hands. “What is this?” He asked, looking at a thread of text messages from your mother.

“Look at the picture!” You cheered, leaning over to point at the image your mother had sent you. Spencer scrolled up a little bit, opening the photo. It was one he’d seen before, he knew that much. He couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, eidetic memory and all.

It was a photograph of a high school girl’s soccer team from around the 1950s. He recognized exactly one of them, his mother. She was dressed in a classic soccer uniform, with hair much longer than he was used to seeing her with. Spencer had seen the photo in a yearbook she had when she had first begun showing signs of dementia.

“That’s my mom’s high school soccer team,” Spencer concluded, not understanding why you were showing him this, or why your mother sent it to you.

Contrary to his confusion, you were full of glee. He looked up at you and was basically blinded by the radiant, beaming smile on your face. He was even more entranced by you when you spoke, “Noooooo,” you extended your words for emphasis, “that’s MY mom’s high school soccer team!”

You and Spencer hadn’t been together long, merely a few months. Due to the nature of your jobs and the way you were constantly on the go, he hadn’t had the chance to meet much of your family, not even your parents. The topic of them had come up, but he didn’t know much. You spoke more about how you grew up, telling anecdotal stories when appropriate.

“Really?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone closer to his face and scanning it for a woman who resembled you in any way. He could feel you excitedly nod, again, as he did so. “She said she knew your last name but couldn’t remember where from! She was cleaning out her storage closet and found her yearbook!” You were laughing as you spoke, mind blown by the crazy coincide.

“There’s like a one in a million chance this could’ve happened!” You explained, leaning down to point at your mother in the photo. He followed your finger, smiling when he saw her. You did have a bit of resemblance to her. He was so in awe of the situation that he didn’t do the numbers to figure out the real chance.

“How did we not know this?” Spencer asked, handing your phone back to you. “My grandfather was a higher up in the military, so my mom moved around a lot. She said she stayed at this school from 8th to 11th grade and it was the longest she was at one school.” You explained, still shocked by the photo.

“It’s like destiny!” You cheered. However, when you saw Spencer’s face twist up, your excited demeanor fell. “There’s no such thing,” Spencer declares, ever the man of science.

“Look up the Red Thread of Fate, boy wonder,” Penelope butts in from behind you. She’s watched the entire exchange. You smiled at having her be your back up, and because you could finally teach Spencer about something.

“That’s just folklore,” Spencer dismisses, brushing off Penelope’s suggestion. “Just admit it, Spencer!” You demanded, “there’s always been an invisible string tying us together!” You pulled him to a tight hug that only lasted for a second.

“Okay,” he agreed after contemplating for a while, “only because it’s very sweet that you think so.” With that, he turned back to his computer, trying to hide his blushing face.

[blac-ivy]

One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.

Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.

Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.

Bring back the build up!!!!!!!

[foxy-eva]

Drunk on You

Summary: Spencer is completely and utterly infatuated with you

Request: Pussy drunk Spencer where it’s the first time they sleep together and he’s completely obsessed with being inside her and eating her out (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected penetrative sex, slight overstimulation

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

Maybe it was a bit cliché to invite Spencer into your apartment for coffee after your date. The ulterior motive was obvious but there was no elegant way of telling him what you really wanted. He didn’t seem to mind when he accepted your offer with a grin on his face. 

The tension between the two of you was palpable once you stepped through your door. The warm amber of Spencer’s irises shone even brighter under the lighting of your living room. It was mesmerizing to look at him, so much so that you quickly forgot about the coffee. 

Spencer couldn’t care less. It was obvious that he knew a hot beverage wasn’t exactly what you craved right then. The way he licked his lips as he looked at you gave away that he was longing for something else, too. 

Stepping closer, you left barely any space between the two of you. The warmth he radiated penetrated your skin and spread through your body. You breathed in his scent, a pleasant mix of his cologne and laundry detergent. 

“So,” you teased as you leaned closer. “Are you gonna kiss me now or what?” 

“Gladly,” he chuckled. 

To your surprise, he took his time with you. His fingers found your jaw, gently brushing along your skin before slightly tilting your head. His other hand made contact with your waist to pull you even closer. Then, unhurriedly and with a precise motion, he finally leaned in to close the distance. 

Once your mouths made contact there was no more holding back, though. His lips were soft yet demanding and he didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss. Tasting you broke any resistance Spencer had and he couldn’t keep up his demeanor anymore. 

His fingertips dug into your waist before you felt them trembling against your body. His tongue brushed over yours as if you had finally granted him the first taste of water after a life-long drought. When your hands found the nape of his neck to playfully tug at his curls, he unabashedly moaned against your lips. 

Spencer was desperate to make you his and he had no intention of hiding that from you. His lips only left yours to gasp for air before kissing you some more. When you wanted to lean back to look at him, he chased your mouth and immediately closed the distance again.

His enthusiasm made you smile into the kiss and he noticed. That was when he finally slowed down, leaving a few more feather-light pecks on your mouth before leaning back. 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly laughed. “I’ve been waiting so long to do this.” 

“Don't apologize,” you breathed. “I like how eager you are.” 

To prove your words, you took his hand in yours to lead him into your bedroom. Spencer wasn’t the only one who had been waiting too long for this to finally happen. You had no intention of acting shy with him when it was clear how much the both of you yearned for each other’s nearness. 

Right beside your bed you came to a halt and turned to him. Patiently he watched as you undid the buttons of his dress shirt and brushed the fabric over his shoulders. Once the shirt dropped to the floor, your hands wandered along the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes followed the movements of your fingers and you couldn’t ignore the outline of his hardness straining against his trousers. You looked at the man in front of you and found him staring at you with the utmost adoration in his eyes. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked and he nodded. 

Your palm carefully made contact with his clothed cock and a sigh immediately escaped Spencer’s throat. He leaned into your touch and twitched against the fabric of his confines. You decided to free him as you undid his pants and slowly pulled them down together with his underwear. 

As you took your time to admire the beauty of your lover, you completely forgot your surroundings. Only Spencer’s hand brushing along your arm brought you back to reality. You locked eyes with him again and felt your cheeks heating up. 

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled. 

His hand found the fabric of your shirt and tugged on it as he cooed, “I want to see you, too.”

Together you got rid of the remaining pieces of clothing until both of you were completely bare. You lay down on the mattress to continue kissing without any barriers between your bodies. 

Spencer hovered over you when he began kissing down your neck. He left sweet pecks on your skin before biting down on your pulse point, drawing a whine from your lips. To soothe the angry skin, he carefully licked along it before moving further down your body. 

“You smell so good,” he groaned as he kissed your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.” 

He took one of your hardened peaks into his mouth while his hand found the other, teasing it with his fingers until you couldn’t hold back your moans. When he heard your hymn of praise, he hummed into your skin. 

Hungry lips found one another once more. “You are marvelous,” Spencer mumbled into the kiss. 

While he was distracted with his mouth on yours, a curious hand made its way down his body to wrap around his erection. It made him whimper against your lips. Your fingers brushed over velvety skin until they found the weeping tip to spread his arousal over it. 

“Fuck!” he hissed as he looked down his body to watch your hand caressing him. 

“Do you like that?” you teased as you kept stroking him a little harder. 

His hand found your wrist to stop your movements. “Yeah, a little too much,” he confessed and his words made you smile. 

You let go of him and watched as his fingertips danced along your chest and down your stomach until they reached their destination between your legs. Tentatively, he let one finger glide along your slit before spreading your folds apart. When he found you already dripping with desire, he groaned, “So wet for me.” 

He collected your dew on his fingertips and dragged it along your folds before circling your most sensitive spot. The sounds of your pleasure only spurred him further on, caressing you some more before he breached your entrance with two digits, finding little resistance from your body. 

Spencer kissed along your neck as he curled his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot that made you light-headed and let your walls flutter around him. He seemed to relish feeling your body like this, taking his time to explore your core before settling on a steady pace. It didn’t take long for you to dance along the edge of euphoria. 

His lips brushed along your ear as he whispered, “I can’t wait to fuck you.” 

That was all it took for your undoing. Spencer groaned as he felt you pulsing around his fingers, your entire body writhing as you found relief. You were still panting when he withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

With a playful smirk spread over his face, he brought his hand to his mouth to lick your release from his fingers, savoring the taste of your cunt on his tongue. 

“You taste so good,” he breathed before moving down your body. “I need more.”

Before he could settle down between your thighs, you grabbed his shoulders. The feeling of being empty was overwhelming and you yearned to be filled out by him. Even though the prospect of having his mouth on you was exciting, it was not what you needed then. 

“I need you inside me now,” you whimpered. “Please, Spencer.” 

He kneeled between your legs when he chuckled, “How could I say no to that?” 

Hurriedly and with little grace you reached over to your nightstand to get a condom from the drawer. Spencer didn’t waste any more time when he took the wrapper from your hands to put the condom on. As he leaned over you, you watched him closing his eyes for a moment before he aligned his cock at your entrance. 

Then, after locking eyes with you, he began pushing his hips against yours. He hissed a curse at the sensation of slowly stretching you open one inch at the time. When he dared to look down between your bodies, he got so overwhelmed at the sight of his cock entering you that he almost came on the spot. 

Quickly, he averted his sight to get his composure back. Your walls fluttered around him and you felt him twitch in response. Once he had filled you up to the hilt, he took a moment to feel your heartbeat deep inside you. 

“Spencer,” you whined as you began rocking your hips against his. “Please!” 

He didn’t mean to tease you or test your patience. He just wanted to fully savor this moment. Feeling you tightly wrapped around him made his head spin. He felt inebriated when he began moving and started to think you had cast some kind of spell on him. 

“You feel so good,” he breathed when he began moving. “So tight for me.” 

Pure magic was the only explanation for what you made him feel. Spencer struggled to wrap his head around the fact that this was reality. Nothing else mattered other than being right there with you, making you his as he fucked you against the mattress. 

“Harder!” you cried and Spencer obliged. 

It proved to be a mistake, though. As he watched you quiver underneath him, the bedframe shaking with his forceful thrusts, he struggled to delay his downfall. Feeling you getting even tighter around him made it impossible to not fully indulge in this sensation. 

With his whole body trembling, he tried but failed to slow himself down. Desperation was written over his face as he attempted to prolong the feeling of being inside you. Of course you noticed it, too. Seeing him fall apart on top of you as pleasure overcame him was exhilarating and you had no intention of slowing him down.  

“Come for me,” you murmured and Spencer’s eyes widened at your words. 

Then, with a particularly hard thrust, he did. Trembling and groaning, the built-up tension was released as his climax washed over him. 

Before you had a chance to wrap your arms around him to welcome him inside your embrace, he pulled out of you and quickly moved down your body. With your head still spinning, it took you several seconds to realize what he was doing. 

Only when you felt his tongue glide through your folds did you comprehend that he had found his new home between your legs. 

“Oh fuck, Spencer!” You hissed at the feeling of his mouth caressing your sensitive center. 

Like a man starved he collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue, moaning into your skin as he tasted your heady aroma. The vibrations he created sent shockwaves through your body, prompting you to buck your hips against his face.

Seemingly unfazed by your reaction, he wrapped his arms around your legs to keep you in place as he continued pleasuring you with his tongue and mouth. 

“So good,” he whispered against your heat. 

Despite his effort to hold you securely against his mouth, you were sure you might start floating at any moment. Two of his fingers found their way into you, adding more pressure and bringing you closer to your undoing. 

It only took a few more seconds until ecstasy overcame you. Your thighs trembled as you rode out your high, rocking gently against Spencer’s face. He didn't let go of you, though. Almost in a trance-like state he kept caressing you, licking up your release as you writhed underneath him. 

Your chest was heaving when you looked at him, eyes closed and half of his face buried between your legs. Spencer didn't even consider stopping, not when you tasted so heavenly, even more so after you came. Drunk on your taste and scent, he would have been more than happy to spend the rest of his night right there. 

It became too overwhelming for you, though. The constant stimulation was too much to bear and almost became uncomfortable, so your hands found his curls to pull on them. “Enough,” you murmured.

In an instant, he removed his mouth from your core to litter your inner thighs with little kisses. Then he looked up at you, a wicked grin painted on his glistening face. He wiped himself clean with the back of his hand before plopping down beside you. 

“Sorry, uh…” he muttered. “I got a little carried away.” 

You placed a kiss on his lips, noticing your own scent still lingered on them. 

“I’m not complaining,” you purred. “I just need a little break. We can continue later.” 

The glimmer in his eyes at your words must have been akin to someone witnessing a miracle. Content with the prospect of doing all of this again, he wrapped you into his arms. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[reidiot]

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

[pathologicalreid]

a love song for lady earth | s.r.

in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.

Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, “Baby,” he starts, “Have you ever received oral sex before?”

Your lips part in surprise, wondering why that’s the conclusion he comes to, “I have,” you respond hesitantly. “I just—” you falter, “You don’t have to.”

His confusion deepens, “I don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to give me head,” you answer timidly, “Because it’s not— you just don’t have to.”

Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s not what? Now you have to tell me.”

You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that won’t set your cheeks ablaze, “I don’t like it, and I know guys don’t like it. So, you just… we can skip that part.”

“Just out of curiosity, what about it don’t you like?” Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “I just don’t get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.”

“Ah,” Spencer breathes, “So, you’ve never received good oral sex before,” he amends his previous question.

Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “I’m not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.”

He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, “Do you trust me?”

You frown, “Of course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“Would you be willing to let me go down on you?” The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wants to eat you out.

Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, “Do you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “Then I guess that demographic doesn’t apply to me.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “You can… We can try,” you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.

Your boyfriend’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, “You can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner you’ve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouth—he certainly was good at running it. “Yes,” you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.

“Thank you,” he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before you’d stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. “Pretty girl,” he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he’s smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.

He hums absentmindedly, “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he teases.

There could be an air raid siren going off and you’d still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone—everywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that’s building up. “Spence,” you breathe.

“Are you enjoying this?” He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

You nod once, “Are you?” You challenge.

His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, “Immensely.”

Spencer continues but doesn’t move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

He could’ve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you would’ve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasn’t what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.

“You’re just so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didn’t feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragement—at least he tried, and at least you’d be wet enough for sex.

Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and that’s where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, “Shh,” Spencer coos, “It’s okay, baby. I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.

Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.

“Spence,” you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadn’t thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.

He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.

At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, “Oh my god.”

He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.

“I’m— ah, please,” you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencer’s mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.

Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.

The taste of yourself on his lips doesn’t even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencer’s fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.

“Can I go back?” Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.

Your mouth gapes, “You want more?”

He groans in response, “Angel, I’d spend all day between your thighs if you’d let me.”

Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, “Fuck,” he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.

His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until he’s right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. “Oh,” you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.

“Poor baby,” Spencer coos at your sensitivity, “You’re doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.”

You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, “You’re so good at this.”

He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.

A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, “’m close,” you breathe, gasping as his movements don’t relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.

Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.

His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. “Spence,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.

He hums a response, “My love,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.

You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, “Do… do you need me?” Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.

“Uh,” he says, equally as unsure, “That’s not necessary.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s not like I feel inclined to, but I’d like to… to return the favor.”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I mean I’m taken care of. I already…” his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Oh.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.

He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose it’s not often that a man finishes from giving head. “So,” he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, “Did you enjoy it?”

You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing he’s changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? “Immensely,” you answer.