I Want To Eat Him

the way i’d be flustered around this man-

heatstroke

shy!reader is flustered around spencer. he mistakes it for a heatstroke.

pairing: spencer reid x shy!reader warnings: fem!reader, post prison reid, spencer being oblivious, fluffy fluff prompt: here wc: 0.7k

Your heart is hammering so hard you’re half-convinced it’s about to burst straight out of your chest, grow legs, and scuttle off into the nearest storm drain. And now, standing so close you can map every anxious burst of breath ghosting hot across your cheek, Spencer is mumbling something rapid-fire about heatstroke of all things.

“It’s eighty-five degrees out, you know. Do you feel dizzy? Disoriented?” he asks, forehead crinkling adorably — no, anxiously — in sincere concern.

You’d answer, really, but all that escapes is an embarrassingly squeaky semblance of language. Because Spencer Reid, who is the intellectual equivalent of chugging an ice-cold slushie way too fast on your best days, is currently ushering you toward a shaded lounge chair, fingertips pressing cautiously into your side as if the slightest pressure might crumble you into dust. 

Which, honestly, that's not far off.

“You really don’t look good,” Spencer says, lowering himself into a squat directly in front of you. 

You want to protest, or at least pretend to be mildly insulted, but your lips part uselessly, mouth suddenly dry. 

This close, Spencer is a potent distraction — big, worried eyes, dark lashes clinging wetly together, a single bead of water tracing the strong line of his jaw before disappearing beneath the edge of his collarbone. 

Your vision is swimming, and it definitely has nothing to do with the diagnosis he’s busy concocting.

How did this even happen? One minute, you were innocently (fine, not so innocently) ogling Spencer as he laughed in the pool, sunlit water streaming over smooth skin and muscles you absolutely did not know existed beneath all those layers he normally hides behind. 

The next, your knees had given out, quickly followed by your dignity.

Completely understandable, really, given the visual stimulus. And clearly, it was symptomatic enough to convince him of a medical emergency. 

Now he’s fussing over you like a patient, touching you gently, speaking softly, and effectively making your current Spencer-induced predicament exponentially worse. 

“I’m fine,” you manage to croak, forcing your lips into a shaky approximation of a smile, hoping you look convincing and not completely deranged. “Just, um — hot. It’s hot. You’re hot — I mean, it’s… the weather. The weather’s hot.”

Amazing. Truly eloquent. You doubt a toddler would fall for such an amateurish charade, let alone Spencer.

His head cocks to the side in the confusion, and now you’re stuck looking at lips that seem entirely too kissable for your current mental state. 

Spencer blinks slowly at you and somehow, inexplicably, moves even closer, fingers brushing against your forehead.

“Your skin is really warm,” he says, almost to himself, his palm shifting to cup your cheek. 

A barely contained shiver ripples through your body, originating exactly where Spencer’s hand rests and working its way down your spine, turning you into a shaky disaster in seconds flat. Which, of course, is incredibly helpful, given that he currently believes you’re overheating.

Tremors in blazing sun. Makes sense.

“Can you try taking a deep breath for me?” he urges, thumb sliding smoothly across your cheekbone, and suddenly you’re wondering if this is how cats feel when someone scratches exactly the right spot behind their ears.

You drag in a tight, somewhat strangled breath, probably miles from the smooth, relaxing inhale Spencer intended. But considering there was only a microscopic gap separating your faces, successfully intaking any oxygen feels nothing short of a miracle. 

Spencer, clearly agrees, because his face breaks into an immediate, heart-stopping smile.

“Good,” he whispers. “There you go.”

You briefly wonder if praise-induced death is a thing, because Spencer’s clearly testing the theory.

When his hand finally withdraws, leaving your cheek strangely cool, you’re amazed at how quickly your body rights itself, as though your lungs had just been waiting politely for him to stop wreaking havoc on your nervous system. 

"Stay here, I'll grab you some water," he says softly, already halfway turned toward the house before pausing, reconsidering. "Or, actually — do you wanna come inside? Air conditioning might help."

"Oh — no," you blurt quickly, nervously adjusting your bathing suit strap for what feels like the millionth time. "I'm fine out here, really. The fresh air is good."

Fresh air, you think, nodding to yourself like a total idiot. Yes, fresh air is good. Fresh air means witnesses, and witnesses mean accountability. People who can vouch that your complete breakdown is purely situational and definitely not a daily occurrence.

He hesitates, obviously conflicted, before exhaling with a sigh of surrender. "Okay, but I'm setting up a fan. It'll make us both feel better."

You manage a nod. "Fan sounds good."

The second Spencer’s safely indoors, Rossi lowers his sunglasses just enough to shoot you an amused glance.

“Kid might be a genius, but when it comes to anything social —  especially romantic — he’s about as perceptive as a brick,” he says breezily. “Lucky for you, huh?”

Laughter washes around you, and all you can do is tug your hat down over your burning face as if that might make you invisible. When no helpful sinkhole opens up beneath you, you sneak a glance toward the house.

One day, Spencer’s bound to figure it out. You wonder briefly if you’ll survive it… but you’re dangerously tempted to find out.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 1 extras

💌 click here to check in → confirm your room (and crush)

maria's spring break getaway masterlist

A Sunflower in the Graveyard

Post Prison!Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Synopsis: You’re the new kid on the block— joining the BAU during Spencer’s prison sentence and since then, he’s ignored you despite your efforts in trying to start a mere friendship with him. But when all hope seems lost, Spencer seems to show his soft spot for you when a case really gets to you.

Category: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: mentions of an abduction case, mentions of violence & SA, mentions of child murder, please tread lightly! reader taking case to heart, reader breaking down/crying, spencer lowkey being cold towards reader but opens up a bit, reader & spencer being lowkey simps for each other, spencer relating to willy wonka lmao, mentions of the prison arc and spoilers for 12x21 ‘Green Light’ and 12x22 ‘Red Light’

Author’s Note: hey lovelies, so i’m supposed to be taking a break from writing but this one came out of my ass and boom this was the result- i’m really proud of it so i hope you enjoy!

A fourteen year old girl by the name of Alyssa Carter was abducted. And the stakes were high since the BAU team knew that the first 24 hours were very crucial when it came to child abduction cases.

It’d been your first child abduction case since you joined the BAU, which hadn’t been too long. But you couldn’t lie and say this didn’t affect you. Cases regarding children were the worst for you, if you were being honest.

It could’ve been the fact that children were helpless, fragile, unable to defend themselves like adults could. How could anybody treat a child in such a cruel way? This was the reason you wanted a job like this anyhow, right? You wanted to stop bad guys from hurting people. And so here you were. After pining for this job for years, you finally got it at the expense of another agent being wrongfully accused of a crime he didn’t commit.

You’d arrived in Manhattan, where you’d been searching for a preferential child molester who’d already struck twice before by leaving the bodies of the children he’d killed and buried them near a lake stream.

Alyssa Carter’s parents were in hysterics when you got to the PD, since Emily had wanted someone with a lighter touch to speak with them. You’d been good with the families of victims, always talking to them with understanding and even shedding a few tears with them because of how empathetic you’d been with them.

You’d hit the 24 hour mark and the likeliness of Alyssa Carter still being alive was unlikely. It would only be a matter of time before you hit a wall in the case. But you kept the work up, not even wanting to rest until you catch the son of a bitch. You’d been hopped on four hours of sleep and coffee when you’d found it.

The connection with all the crime scenes — a motel six in the smack dab middle of the hunting area. And with the help of Garcia, you were able to find the motel so Emily had joined you, Luke, Matt, Spencer and JJ down there.

You’d questioned the motel employee to see if there had been any suspicious characters or any sign of a young girl matching Alyssa Carter’s features and the motel employee didn’t hesitate to give you the information of a visitor that frequented the motel often.

The name Greg Taylor would probably haunt you forever as Spencer gave the name to Garcia and she’d informed you with a disgusted tone of what Greg Taylor was fully capable of and the horrible things he’d been arrested for prior to this.

You’d found the room and Spencer banged on the door and announced that the FBI wanted to speak with Greg Taylor. It was over two minutes when the door finally opened and the man, who you presumed was Greg Taylor — stood there, skinny and lengthy, tattoos covering his body, only wearing boxers and he’d looked like a deer in headlights.

Spencer had told the man to sit down, that all they wanted to do was talk with him — when you’d heard it. A faint whimper in the bathroom. You’d decided to check the room as Spencer told the man to sit down when he tried to stop you from opening the door.

When you opened the door, you found Alyssa Carter, only in a top and shorts with tear-stained cheeks and pleading for help. You quickly assured to her everything was going to be okay and that she was safe now, quickly calling JJ on your mic and notifying her that you’d found Alyssa.

Once JJ came to retrieve Alyssa, Greg tried to lie his way out of this but you weren’t letting him off easy. Soon as he stood up, you were quick to grab him and turn him around, aggressively pushing him against the wall, telling him just what a piece of scum he was.

Spencer stood there, he’d never seen you get this worked up before over a victim. You were usually the calm and collected one but he knew you were also hopped up on four hours of sleep and coffee, despite how many times Rossi had to tell you to get some rest but you’d refused to listen.

You dug your elbow into the back of Greg Taylor’s neck, like how he manage to subdue his victims. “How does this feel, huh? Do you feel powerless? Do you feel afraid? Well so did Janet MacGee, Ellie Oswald and Alyssa Carter. But we got you, you son of a bitch.” It got to a point where Luke walked in and basically had to pry you off of Greg Taylor. “Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa! L/n, just back up. Come on. It’s not worth it.”

You marched outside, refusing to be scolded like a child, despite knowing how wrong it was. You stood outside of the motel and squatted down on the gravel, taking a moment as you tried to control your angry breathing. You’d never felt this heated before, especially not about an unsub. But something about Greg Taylor made you furious. Made you want to stomp the bastard’s head into the ground.

As you calmed yourself down to the best of your ability, you registered the hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles and even the words — “Are you okay?” Even jolted you into the realization that you weren’t alone anymore. You turned with wide eyes to see Spencer comforting you and that’s a surprise in itself.

You see, you joined the team when he’d been rotting in prison — you essentially replaced him for the time being. He’d been dismissive towards you, cold even since he got out of prison. And you’d no idea why, you were nothing but warm and kind to him. So, you’d taken the liberty in just ignoring him to the best of your ability. If you were paired together, you minimized your conversations to the task at hand, not even making small talk at the coffee machine or when you happened to be sitting next to each other on the jet.

It didn’t help that you also thought he was attractive. It was already tough speaking to him as it is when you found him to be intimidating due to how handsome you thought he was. You’d tried a few times to speak with him but it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you. So, you stopped trying. You knew when you weren’t wanted, no one needed to sugarcoat it.

But for him to come and ask if you were okay, of all people — you never expected for Spencer to do so.

“Are you okay?” Spencer repeated. It took you a second to realize you were just staring at him. You shake your head, probably from the whiplash you were experiencing with him asking you if you were okay. “Yeah, I guess.” You end up answering.

You look up as Luke takes Greg Taylor into the back of a police car. And you take a sharp breath. It’s okay. You got him. He’ll be locked up for life. You got him. “We got him.” Spencer’s voice turns into one of the mantras you’re saying to yourself internally.

And it’s sudden. You break down crying, nearly falling forward on the gravel and you would have face-planted if Spencer hadn’t been there to catch you. Your cries echoed in your ears as you felt Spencer’s arms tighten around you in comfort. For a moment, he went stiff— almost not knowing how to hold you or what to do and not wanting to mess it up— but the way you’d melted in his touch was enough to make him melt with you and hold you as you wept.

After you’d landed back home, Spencer kept an eye on you. And even offered to walk you home so you got to your destination safely. You didn’t say a word to him — maybe a meek ‘thanks’ but other than that, not a word. He didn’t say anything either and perhaps, he didn’t have anything to. So, you both relished in the silence, in his protective nature that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you while he was around.

Once you got to the door, you looked at him — wondering if maybe he’d leave soon after. He stayed standing right there and well, you didn’t want to send him off just yet, if you were being honest. You didn’t feel ready to.

“Y-You can come in,” You offered with a small shrug. “If you want.” Spencer nods at you and you unlock the door and open the door to your apartment.

You take off your coat, walking into the kitchen and placing it on the chair in front of the table. Spencer takes a look around your apartment, the scent of autumn hits him like a wave and he notices your knick-knacks around the apartment. The bookshelf intrigues him, quick to inspect it as he spots the classics such as To Kill A Mockingbird and 1984, suggesting you were a fan of English literature. He even takes notice of your VCR under your TV and the stacks of films next to the VCR— spotting tapes like The Princess Bride and Grease, also telling him that you’d liked classics and that you weren’t exactly living under a rock.

He knew that maybe he shouldn’t be profiling you the way he was doing now but everything about you was interesting. Which was why he was keeping as far away from you as he could. He was already breaking his own moral code by being here at your apartment, afraid to damage you with his ignorance.

Spencer looks over and finds you, trying to preoccupy yourself awkwardly, like you’re trying to casually deal with the fact that he’s in your apartment right now.

“I…” You quickly turn as Spencer finds his voice. “I can leave, if you want me to. I don’t have to stay.” You shake your head, dismissing the idea. “No, no, I want you to.” You find yourself admitting and Spencer bites his lip as he stares at you and you look like a deer in headlights at your eagerness. “I… I just…” You shut your eyes at the embarrassment of your next sentence. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

The words repeat in Spencer’s head. I just don’t want to be alone right now. And you chose him to accompany you in your time of need? Why him? He’s far too damaged for you. No good for you. But you didn’t even ask. He chose to be here. For you.

“But you can leave, if you want to.” You say, trying not to sound disappointed in your tone but Spencer can definitely tell you are, which is why he removes his brown satchel strap from around his neck and places his bag on the floor. “I won’t leave. You need somebody and… well, I can be that.” No matter how much he wants to run for the hills.

So, you opt for offering him a drink— which he declines and you ask if maybe he wants to watch something while he’s here. You decide to put on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (since you’d discovered he’d never seen it before and well, him being uncultured just won’t do) and change into some comfy clothes and relax while he’s here.

Spencer had never seen you in casual clothing before. In your baggy sweatpants and argyle wool sweater and white socks— you looked ethereal. He’d never seen you in such a domestic light before. His stomach churns at this, the fear of getting too close to you is strong. His Adam’s apple bobs as he moves closer towards the arm of the couch, maintaining as much distance as possible between you two.

You don’t seem to mind or pay attention to the distance, at least— more so paying more attention to the film you’re watching instead of him and Spencer sits there, trying to pay attention but he can’t — not while you’re sitting next to him, at least. He figures the longer he can stare at the screen, the more he’d be able to focus but he can’t. He really can’t seem to focus around you.

As Spencer watches the scene of Augustus Gloop getting stuck into the chocolate pool, he’s finally enthralled with the film — of course, it’s totally unrealistic because how does Willy Wonka manage to have a pool full of chocolate and why are the parents of these children that were chosen full entrusting into this strange man? But in a way, Spencer finds himself relating to the whimsical man in a sense.

“I don’t know why kids affect me a lot.” You find yourself speaking halfway through the movie and Spencer then turns to you. Catching as you’re deep into thought, like you’d been thinking for a while now and you were just now voicing it. “I don’t have any of my own, I don’t know any kids. It’s just…”

“They’re young,” Spencer finds your voice, adding to your segment. “Defenseless.” He’d remembered this conversation with Morgan before he’d left. When Little Hank was a mere baby in Savannah’s stomach and how Morgan started taking these cases regarding children to heart. Spencer wondered if that had a play into Morgan leaving and he knew it most likely did. And he told him the same thing he’s telling you now.

You shake your head, “You just don’t do that.” Your voice is quiet and soft, Spencer’s not sure he’s ever heard you this quiet. Usually, you’re loud and bubbly and happy-go-lucky. He’s never seen you this sad before. But he’s discovering now that he hates it.

“What matters now is that we caught him,” Spencer tells, looking into your eyes as he speaks carefully. “And that Alyssa Carter is home now with her family.”

“Not to mention a load of trauma.” You add with a small sniffle. “What she went through—” Spencer looks down. “That’s hard for anybody. But she’s gonna make it. And she’s alive. What matters is we did our jobs and Greg Taylor can’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

You bite your lip and you nod at that. Spencer was right. You did your job, you got your unsub, you saved Alyssa Carter. You’ve done everything right. And you need to stop beating yourself up over it.

After that, you and Spencer don’t talk again. And by the time the movie’s over, Spencer looks your way and finds you asleep on the other side of the couch. He smiles to himself, happy that you’re getting the rest like you deserved. He stands up, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV and looks over towards you.

You’re peaceful as you sleep and he’s not sure he’s ever seen anything more angelic in his life. Looking at the throw blanket on the couch, he grabs it and throws it over your body so you can sleep comfortably and he looks down at you a moment longer.

He’d pushed you away. He had to keep you at this distance because he was afraid of hurting you. Prison had broken him down beyond repair. After all the crap he had deal with Delgado, this whole catastrophe with Scratch, which ended up being Lindsey Vaughn and Cat Adams. Having to deal with inmates, threatening his identity and beating him up every chance they got.

And then he met you. And you were the complete opposite of what he was now. You’d extended your hand, you gave him a big grin and the whole ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ schpeal when you’d first met. He thought you were beautiful, inside and out — that’s how Garcia described you at least when he’d found out about you on one of her visits to see him in prison.

But he’d simply waved with a tight smile and said it was nice to meet you and walked away. After that, you tried with him, trying to say and asked how his day went but he often dismissed— only dealing with the small talk. And he’d kept his distance, not wanting to hurt you but little did he know, his absence just hurt you more.

The day you walked into the office and decided to ignore him, grabbing your coffee next to him and going about your day without a word — sent a sharp pain in his heart. He supposed that things were better now that you ignored him, that he’d finally gotten what he wanted. But this wasn’t what he wanted at all. And he knew that deep down.

And when he saw you tonight, how angry you were, how you didn’t get any rest until the case was solved, he’d wanted to comfort you. He wanted to comfort you in a way he needed back then. And when he saw you squatting with your head in your hands, he found his opportunity and he refused to leave your side until he knew you were alright. And he’d stay for as long as you liked him to.

But he didn’t want to intrude while you slept, he’d had no idea how you felt about him staying the night — no matter how much he’d like to in entirely different circumstances— so he decided the safe bet was to leave. He didn’t want to leave with no goodbye, so he’d left you a note and left your apartment quietly.

When you woke up the next morning, you found the note on the table in front of you and smiled warmly as you read it.

Y/n,

I didn’t want to wake you, so I saw myself out. I hope a good night’s sleep is all you need to feel refreshed. Adults usually need seven to nine hours a night. Anyways, I‘ll see you at work.

-Spencer :)

Hmm… perhaps the Dr. Spencer Reid, the man that barely talked to you, that hardly looked your way, that you’d found attractive regardless of everything that was wrong with him… wasn’t so cold after all.

Dream A Little Dream

Bf! Spencer Reid x Gf!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Spencer comes home from work and finds you sleeping in bed and he’s completely mesmerized by you as you sleep.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: spencer likes watching you sleep (but not in a creepy way), fluffiest of the fluff, cuddling, talks about weird dreams and dream analysis, spencer is completely infatuated with you 🤭

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! i got this idea bc i love love love cuddling fics with reid 🤭 i wish this man were real so bad :( anyways i hope you enjoy this hehe

“Honey, I’m home,” Spencer smiled gently to himself as he heard the words leave his mouth. He never imagined he’d ever say that out loud to anyone. But now he had you. It was as if he still couldn’t believe it every time he said it.

He’d called out to you but there had been no answer. Granted, it was three in the morning, he figured you were probably asleep by now.

Spencer softly closed the door and he placed his satchel down by the door and removed his converse off from his feet, placing them next to your shoes near the table they’d had near the door. He scrunches his nose as his mismatched socks (he’d opted for a light blue sock paired with a yellow sock with patterns on it) patter on the floor as he walks towards the kitchen.

By the evidence on the stove, you’d made chicken Alfredo pasta. A good chunk of the pasta is left on the stove — you most likely saved it for him because you worry about how skinny he is — and he smiles to himself. At least you ate.

He makes his way over to your guys’ shared bedroom and that’s when he sees it. You’re on the bed, sleeping soundly and bundled up under the covers but sprawled across the bed, holding his pillow, no less and wearing one of his old CalTech sweatshirts. On the bed is your laptop laid far away but not too far where it would fall off the bed. No, it looked like you were in the middle of work and decided to take a break and instead had fallen asleep.

Spencer leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and a warm smile as he watches you sleep. He’d often took advantage of the times where he’d come in from work late.

He liked watching you sleep. But not in a total creep kinda way, absolutely not. He more so liked seeing you so well-rested since you were always up on your feet, dealing with work and stress and never really taking a break from anything since you were so independent. It was one of the many things he liked about you. But in all seriousness, it might’ve been his favorite thing about you.

He adored the way your nose would scrunch while you slept and the way that you snored softly into the pillow. Sometimes, you’d even had a dribble of drool onto the pillow and he even found that cute. He’d found everything cute about you.

Eventually, he’d had enough of just looking at you and decided to join you. The first thing he’d done was remove and close your laptop and carefully place it on the dresser. He even opts to put it on the charger for you.

He begins slipping off his slacks along with his dress shirt and cardigan and puts on a gray t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms and quietly climbed into the covers next to you.

He carefully places his hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly and you stir a bit and scrunch your nose up once more and open your eyes to see your boyfriend, smiling warmly at you.

“Hi, honey.” He whispers and you inhale deeply as you smile sleepily at him. “You’re home!” You cheer tiredly as you scoot closer to him, you head resting on his chest and inhaling his scent as you snuggle as close as you can to him.

“I am home,” He smiles as he holds you impossibly closer. He looks down at you as you keep your eyes closed and hold him as tight as you can. “Are you okay, sweet girl?”

You nod into his chest as you open your eyes and look up at him. “I’m perfect, now that you’re here.” Spencer smiles softly at you as you rest your head again on his chest.

“Were you in dreamland?” Spencer asks with a crooked smile.

There was an abundance of times where you’d dream strange dreams. Like one time you were being chased by a hot dog or the other time you were awake on a gurney while doctors performed open-heart surgery on you. Point of the matter was, you had weird dreams.

And you could brush those off as getting food poisoning from a hot dog and never eating them again or when you fell asleep watching Grey’s Anatomy but you always dug deeper into your dreams.

Like you being chased by a hot dog could meet something that’s entirely harmless is causing you stress or overwhelming you. Or the fact that maybe you had a fear or an anxiety of being awake while having open heart surgery. You were one of the few people in Spencer Reid’s life that read into your dreams. He wasn’t one to believe in dream analysis, but you did. And so he’d often asked what you dreamed about this time, since you had dreams like that so often.

“Mhm,” You smack your lips with a sigh and curled up impossibly deeper into his chest. “This time, I was flying without wings.” You said and he furrowed his brows with an amused smile on his face. “Flying without wings?”

You nod once more, “I was suddenly floating and all of a sudden, I was falling and right before I hit the ground, I woke up.” You told him and he thinks to himself at this.

“When you dream about falling and then suddenly wake up just before hitting the ground, it's usually due to a "hypnic jerk,"” Spencer tells, being the rambler he was. And you gladly listened every time. The first time you’d gone out with him, he kept apologizing about his rambles about whatever was on his mind. You assured him that you really didn’t mind, you loved listening to him talk.

“It’s an involuntary muscle contraction that happens when your body is transitioning between wakefulness and sleep, often interpreted by your brain as a sensation of falling, causing you to jolt awake.” Spencer tells and you shrug, “Yeah, it was something like that.”

Spencer smiles softly, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear as he rubs your back, back and forth with his hand. You drifted off for a moment before looking back up at him and he kept his eyes trained right on you. Like you were his only given vice, something worth living for and fighting for. To which, you were. To him, at least.

“How was work?” You asked and he turned away from you as he answers, “We can talk about it later.” Which was code for, ‘I really don’t want to talk about it right now but I mean it when I say we can talk about it later’. And when he was ready, he’d talk about with you. Eventually, he did.

“Right now, I just wanna stay here with you.” Spencer told and you smile into his chest, “I missed you.” You tell and he chuckles, “I missed you, too, sweet girl. And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You snuggled with him, hiking your leg across his torso and holding onto him as you closed your eyes and your breathing evened once more. He smiles, looking down at you and not wanting to move a muscle to disrupt you. He probably wouldn’t get much sleep tonight since he’d be too busy staring at your sleeping features and silently thanking God you were in his life and that he could share these moments with you.

And in the morning, he’d tell you that he asked Hotch for a few days off in advance because he wanted to spend as much time as he could with you. Your guys’ schedules always seemed to be opposites and the only time you’d ever really get together is in bed, like this. You deserved a few days to be with him and he you.

But for now, he’d let you sleep and veer off into dreamland again.

Anything For Ellie : Part Three

Spencer Reid x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Spencer is finally taking you out on a date and you discover just how lovely he can be with you — in public and behind closed doors.

Category: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, themes of spencer taking reader out on a date, spencer being down bad for reader, in a world of boys he’s a gentleman, reader being shy, takes place after the prison arc, mentions of season 12, kissing smut warnings: she’s a dirty girl- cunnilingus, minor dirty talk, slight nipple play, protected sex, p in v, fingering, spencer’s hung, praise kink go brrr, lowkey rough fucking, possession kink if you squint, spencer calls reader ‘angel’

Author’s Note: here is the longgggggggggggg awaited part three to anything for ellie!! i’m so sorry it’s taken me this long ahhhh but here it is and i hope it was worth the wait!! i lowkey got writers block with this so that’s why it took so long but i hope never to take so long again but yk life be getting in the way lol anyways please enjoy this! and ofc i had to post this on matthew’s birthday hehehe

part one / part two

It was official, you were going on a date with Spencer Reid. You’d sat with Ellie in front of your mirror as she applied your lip gloss on your face. Surprisingly, she was pretty good at makeup. That probably had to do with her favorite auntie’s doing.

You’d told Ellie she’d be staying with Penelope for a few hours while you and Spencer were hanging out. You didn’t exactly want Ellie to know about your date for good reason. You didn’t want her getting her hopes up about Spencer being more involved in their lives but it seemed as if he already was — getting her hopes up, that was.

“All done!” Ellie announces and you take a look in the mirror. “Great job, El! Where’s you learn to do makeup?” Ellie smiles to herself, “Auntie Penelope taught me.” Knew it.

You shake your head at your daughter and look into the mirror. Spencer told you to dress as nice as you wanted because he wanted to take you to a fancy Thai restaurant. So, you dressed in red, your best color — according to Penelope, she’d helped you with shopping for your date since you haven’t been on a date in years.

You’d pulled out all the stops, getting your hair done, doing your makeup, even dressing in expensively ridiculously high heels. It’d been a while since you were asked on a date, damn it, might as well look as good as you wanted. There is a knock on the doorframe and both you and Ellie turn around and see that it’s Penelope.

“He’s here!” Penelope beams and Ellie cheers as she jumps around. You stand up from your seat and look over at Penelope as you flatten out your dress with your palms. “How do I look?”

“Oh, you look amazing, pretty girl!” Penelope compliments and you smile at the woman as she grabs Ellie’s hand. “Now, Ellie, let’s go say hi to Spencer so your mom can make a grand entrance!”

Penelope and Ellie leave you, shutting your door behind them and you take a deep breath, staring at yourself in the full length mirror in your bedroom.

You’re completely stunned this is happening. You’re going on a date with Spencer freaking Reid. This has been something you thought about since you met him. You never thought it’d come true. Back then, these were just hopes and dreams. But now, this was reality. You wanted to pinch yourself because you had to have been dreaming, right?

You hear the chattering out in the living room and Penelope’s signal for you to come out. You nearly break your ankle as you walk down the hallway and Spencer is standing there, suit and all with a bouquet of roses in hand. When he sees you, it’s like time stops. You are his only focus of attention. And his breath is completely taken away as his eyes subtly rake over your figure in that dress.

“Wow…” He exhaled. “You look…” Spencer pauses, blinking a few times like he needs a moment. Was he really that focused on you, you wonder. “You look beautiful.”

You take in his suit, that sexy suit he looks oh, so good in. He’d matched your dress with a red cardigan underneath his blazer. How does he not sweat in that? Guess he was cold-blooded. “You don’t look too bad yourself, doc.” You smile.

You begin to walk over to him, your heel almost taking your ankle out again and you shake your head. “Okay, you know what?” You shake your ankles out of the heels and find your chucks near the couch and sit on the couch to quickly slip those on. “Now, I feel like I can walk without breaking something.”

Spencer chuckles as you make your way towards him without anything in your way, this time. “Hi.” You breathe, staring into his eyes and he stares into yours with a crooked smile — “Hi.” He says softly and you look at his hands, causing him to look down to see what you were looking at and then exclaimed — “Oh! These—These are for you. I remembered you said you liked roses, as cliché as they are.”

You’d remember the conversation as well, he’d been over for a movie night since Ellie practically begged him to come and she’d also chosen the movie. She’d chosen Beauty and the Beast and the topic of flowers had come up. Spencer had given Ellie a cool fact about wilted roses and that was where you chimed in and said that roses had been your favorite flower, even if they were a cliché.

You grab the flowers and smile at him, “Thank you, Spencer. These are lovely.” You take a whiff of them and he watches as you do so. He loves that you can be enraptured by the smell of roses.

“Well, we better get going. Our reservations are at 7:30. And if we get there in—” Spencer checks his watch. “Approximately nine minutes and twelve seconds, we can dodge traffic.”

You kneel down to your daughter’s level, “Be good for Penelope, okay, sweet pea?” You ask and Ellie beams, “Okay, Mommy!”

“Don’t worry about anything here,” Penelope chimes in, grabbing Ellie by the shoulders. “I’ve got it all taken care of. You guys just go and have all the fun in the world!”

Penelope grabs your arm gently as she pulls you closer to her — “And I am very available to stay the night if you need me to.” She grins with a wink and you flush at that sentence alone at the insinuation.

You bid your goodbyes to Penelope and Ellie and head on out with Spencer. He’d been a gentleman, getting you flowers, opening the car door for you, pulling out your seat at the table once you got there.

“I-I don’t drink, but I’d be happy to buy you a glass of wine if you’d like.” Spencer offered and you immediately shook your head. “Oh, I’m okay, thank you.”

You sat there and every so often made small talk with him, discussing anything and everything since he’d always had a fun fact in his back pocket. You’d enjoy those fun facts every time, never interrupted him, never disregarded him, just listened and asked questions every so often.

He’d talked about the origins of the restaurant you two were currently at when you wondered something in the back of your mind. And you felt the need to share it with him, because you wondered if maybe he’d thought about it as well.

“Spencer?” You run the rim of your glass with a finger.

“Yes?”

“I-I guess I’m just… a little curious,” You began, with a hitch in your breath. “How long did you feel—?” You pause, looking at his intriguing eyes and they’re burning into your soul, listening intently and you’re quick to shy away once you realize the attention’s all on you. “Never mind.”

“No, no, carry on. What were you gonna say?” Spencer sits forward and you shake your head, dismissing the topic. “No, no, it’s silly.” You say. Spencer grabs your hand across the table as he looks into your eyes and says — “Nothing you say is silly.”

You take a sharp breath and you break out of your shell, staring down into your lap as you think what you were about to say before you shied away. “How long… did you like me before you… asked me on a date? I guess I’m just curious.”

Spencer thinks on it for a moment before quickly responding. “It was the first time we met, and you had come to my door to ask if I had any juice.” You nod as you remember, “Oh, yes! Juice is the only thing Ellie will drink when she’s sick.”

“And you’d run, so you asked me. And I remembered your hair, sticking out, wearing a pastel pink robe and mismatched socks. And from that moment forward, I guess, I was hooked, so to speak.” You smile at the memory and lean forward, “Can I let you know on a secret?”

Spencer leans forward to you and you smile at the closeness between you two — “That was the day I knew, too.” Spencer smiles as he looks down and he too has grown shy and somehow you’ve grown more confident.

After you two have ate, Spencer pays for the check — you’d tried to split it but found out he prepaid for the meal before you two even got to the restaurant— and you two get back into the car, him opening the car door for you again had you weak in the knees.

“I do have one more question, Spencer.” You suddenly speak, turning your body towards him in the car. “What’s up?” Spencer asks, as he keeps his hands steady on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

“What made you finally ask me out? I mean, you had to have thought about it before you asked me, right?” You’d asked and for a brief moment, he turns to you before keeping his eyes back on the road. He doesn’t want to, but of course, safety first, he guesses.

Spencer bites the inside of his cheek, he’d debated on telling you right then and there. But he didn’t know how you’d take him being framed for a crime he didn’t even commit and how the reason he was gone for a few months wasn’t because of his job but because he was at the Milburn Correctional Facility because he was wrongfully convicted of murdering Nadie Ramos in Mexico. He couldn’t tell you that. What if you didn’t trust him anymore? What if you wanted to call the whole thing off? What if you didn’t trust him around Ellie anymore? There were so many reasons why he didn’t — why he couldn’t — tell you. He couldn’t risk losing you when he just got you back.

“Something told me it was finally time,” Spencer opts, which wasn’t exactly far from the truth. After being in prison for as long he was, he thought about you everyday. He wondered how you were, how Ellie was doing, if you’d thought about him, too. You were the only thing that kept him going in that godforsaken place. “I was, uh, gone for a little bit, as you well know.” He says and you nod at that. “I guess I just realized it was now or never.”

“Right,” You nod. “Now or never.” You look outside the window and Spencer thinks to himself. If he could keep this secret forever, he would. It’s best if he does. He can’t screw up what you two already have going on.

After it’s all said and done, you two walk back into your shared unit, stopping in front of your door— but walking slowly so as to keep prolonging your time with each other. Eventually, you stop short and sigh, “Well, this is me.”

Spencer nods as he bites his lip and scrunches up his nose and his eyes gleam at you as you smile at him — “I had a really great time tonight. It’s been a while since I had a date.”

“Same here,” Spencer nods. “But good, I’m glad.” You both stare at each other for the longest of times and just as you’re about to put a hand on the door, he speaks.

“Y/n,” He begins.

“Yes?” You ask, eagerly hoping he’s about to ask the one thing you’ve been wanting to hear for most of the night.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?” Spencer asks and you smile at him as you look him up and down, gazing at his perfect bodice in front of you. He’s bulked up since the last you saw him, you notice. You look back up at him and his gaze is solely on you. It never moved from you. “I never thought you’d ask.” You say.

And Spencer leans forward, hands placed to your cheeks as he pulls you forward and kisses you, so gently, so lovingly. Holding you like you’re gonna break apart in his hands, soft like your sand weaving between his palms, waiting to wilt away in a summer breeze.

You hold him close to you, not wanting to waste a moment of this, with his lips on yours— kissing him like you mean it and you’re holding him like you’re gonna lose him. Finally, you both back up and you look at each other, lips swollen and parted.

It’s as if you can read the other’s mind because in that moment, you have no idea if it’s you or him, but you find yourself straying towards his apartment door and finding refuge there as he quickly inserts his key into the lock and opens the door and he’s just as quick to shut it as he pushes you against it, hand under your head to make sure you weren’t bumping into the door too hard as you rake your lips from his to his neck and his collarbone as you even trying to unbutton his shirt.

He hikes your leg up over his hip, hand trailing up your thigh as he pulls you toward him and hikes you up as you lay your lips everywhere. He carries you to his bedroom, where he gently lays you down and cowers over you with a smirk and kisses you so lovingly.

“Unzip me?” You ask, sitting up a bit and Spencer shakes his head— “Not yet.”

You furrow your brows and Spencer pushes you back down softly and he bows his head down to your thighs, fingers lacing towards the waistband of your tights and pulling them down slowly. “I want to at least get a chance to taste you while you’re wearing this dress for me. God, I wanted to ravage you in this the minute I saw you.” He confessed and your heat throbbed as his sultry tone and you wiggle the rest of the way out of your tights so they’re easier for him to take off.

Spencer flings them somewhere in the room as you bunch your dress up higher and spread your legs for him. He traces his tongue down your thigh and you clench around nothing as the warmth of his tongue sends shivers down your spine.

He blows a hot breath into your core before moving closer and laying a kissing on your pussy and that’s when you pull him closer to your wet heat and he dives between your folds. You feel his tongue circle on your clit, slurping everything you had for him and his moans vibrating in your walls as he sucks on your clit, making you grip onto the sheets and his hair as you arch your back off the mattress as he gets you to the brink of your orgasm.

The coil breaks and your clit throbs under his touch and he looks at you, eyes blown with a mix of lust and love. You wove your fingers through his hair to get a clear look at him and he smiles warmly at you and you return.

Your hand grazes down to the collar of his shirt and you pull him up to you, placing a soft kiss on his lips. You taste your essence as he glides his tongue through the crevice of your mouth and it’s dizzying, heart beating faster than normal. He’s quick to take notice of that.

“If you want to stop here, that’s okay.” He tells you and you smile at him endearingly. He’d always want you to feel safe, no matter what. And he’d always make sure you’d have total control of the situation. You were sure of it.

“Not a chance I want to stop.” You smirk, pulling him back to your mouth as you move your knee towards his crotch, nudging his bulge aching in his slacks and he takes to moaning in your mouth.

His moaning nearly turns into a whine until he grabs your hands, holding both of them above your head and you swear you’re on the verge of a heart attack with how delicious he looks above you.

Spencer leans down, leaving kisses on your neck and most likely hickeys as you feel his tongue trace the column of your neck. He stops, looking at you. You think he’s looking just because he wants to but he’s looking to make sure you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

You place a hand on his face, stubble scratching the palm of your hand. Your thumb traces his bottom lip as you stare into his eyes, full of wonder and what you were thinking at that very moment. You never noticed just how golden his eyes were on the inside.

He was so ethereal. He was infinite. One of a kind. The one man you held dear to your heart. You just wanted to bottle up this emotion you had for him and keep it locked away for you and yourself only.

Spencer is the first one to move as he sits up on his knees and begins to unbutton his dress shirt and you take this moment to try and help him unbutton his shirt, starting from the bottom as he starts from the tops and meeting halfway as you finally get the shirt off of him, revealing a white tank, that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him rock before but you could get used to the sight anyhow.

You go to take the shirt off but he grabs your hands to stop you. “If you don’t mind, I’d… I’d like to keep it on. If that’s okay?” Spencer’s eyes are practically pleading with you and of course, you’d never want him to do anything he didn’t want to do. “Of course.” You nod.

You wonder what his big secret is. A third nipple? A weird birthmark in the shape of a foot you might make fun of? No belly button? The possibilities were endless. But you didn’t have much time to dwell on it when he pulled you close to him and began to unzip your dress with your body flush against his.

He pulls the sleeves of the dress, revealing the fact that you decided not to wear a bra underneath your dress. Spencer looks up at you with an amused smirk on his face. “A bra would’ve just ruined the dress.” You shrug and Spencer shrugs right along with you, “Oh, I’m not complaining.” He leans forward, kissing your nipple before fully suctioning on it like it’s his lifeline.

It seemed that the man you went out with had some kind of oral fixation. Spencer lets go with a pop as he looks up at you, “Did you know that it’s possible for women to experience an orgasm solely from nipple stimulation? It’s not as common as achieving orgasm through direct genital stimulation but some women may find that focused nipple play can lead to a full-blown climax.” You look at him with a surprised look but somehow even more aroused at the fact that he just knows that? You knew he was smart but damn, using his facts while having sex with you? A whole type of rush in itself.

You stop yourself from rocking against him and pull him back to face you. “Maybe we can test that theory another time,” You tell him. “I need you inside of me.”

Spencer nods and stands up, reaching into the desk next to his bed and pulls out a box of condoms and you furrow your brows at him with amusement. Spencer takes notice of this. “Luke-Luke said I should… be prepared.” He admits, shyly and you smile at this.

Spencer removes his slacks, as well as his boxers and sits down on the bed as you remove the rest of the dress off your body and toss it on the ground as Spencer rolls the condom onto his cock.

He turns towards you, staring at you hungrily and hovers over your body, like you’re prey, ready to be slaughtered. And by God, you’d let him eat you any day. Spencer probes a finger towards your entrance and you gasp at the feeling. “God, you’re so wet.” He comments, moving his finger deeper inside of you, gently moving it back and forth. You grab onto his taut bicep and relish in the feeling of this. He’s not even in you yet and he’s making you feel things you never thought you’d feel again.

This continues for a minute more but you’re tired of the teasing. “Spencer…” You pout and he chuckles, “Alright, angel girl. I’ll give you what you want.” Spencer steadies himself on top of you and that’s when you get a good look at him.

Spencer’s… huge, to say the least. Thick in girth and in length, you’d say he had to have been at least eight inches. You’d always imagined he was packing, but Jesus. Needless to say, you’d been intimidated by Spencer’s dick. You’d had big before, but never big like Spencer.

You gulp and Spencer, like he has been all night, noticed your behavior once more. “What’s wrong?” He asks and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Nothing, it’s just… will it fit?” You wonder and Spencer looks back down in between you two and says — “I’ll go slow. Tell me if you need me to stop at all and I will, okay?” You nod at his words.

With that, Spencer’s tip captures your hole and he plugs the tip in. He sticks a few inches in and you moan, grabbing Spencer’s bicep again as he does everything he can not to cum here and now. “God… you’re so tight.” He groans and you reveal, “It’s been a while.”

“I’m gonna try to move, okay?” Spencer moves a piece of hair away from your face as he leans close to your face. “You let me know at all if you need me to stop.” You nod at him and he sticks more of himself inside of you, peppering your face with kisses and words of affirmation.

“You’re so perfect.”

“So good for me.”

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Those are just the few testaments he showers you with. It’s a thin line between pain and pleasure but pleasure overtakes pain and he moves within you, hips grinding against yours as you two fit together like a piece of a puzzle.

“Can you… Can you go faster?” You ask him and he looks down at you, “You want me to go faster?” He repeats and you nod, “Please, please.” You beg.

He’s animalistic in his next movements and holds your hands above your head and drives his hips harder into you and you nearly shriek at how good it feels. The bed creaks as he whispers in your ear about how good you’re doing for him, how he’s waited so long for this, how beautiful you are. You’re too far gone to hear any of it because he’s absolutely railing you right now.

You rock your own body against his and he places kisses on your collarbone and mutters against your skin — “Do you want to cum, angel?” He asks and you gasp, “Please, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, at this point. He’s willing to give you everything.

“Then say you’re mine. Say you’re mine and you can cum. Can you do that, angel, please?”

His own tone makes it sounds like he’s begging, which he is. He’d worried he’d regret it later, damaging you was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I’m— I’m yours. Forever yours.” You breathe.

“Then, cum. You can do it, angel.”

And you see white as your pussy shudders against his cock and he gasps and even lets out a low whimper at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. You soon feel the warmth of him cumming inside of the condom inside of you. He even has to cover your mouth with his hand so your moans and shouts don’t reverberate in the walls.

Eventually, he collapses against your body, and you both pant and take breaths to calm down after your sexual encounter. Spencer lifts his head up and then looks at you, with the same love and adoration he held so dearly at the beginning of your date. You wonder how lucky you are, how much love he truly has for you, if this is all a dream. You’ve fallen for him. And you’ve fallen for him, hard.

“Hi.” You find that your voice is hoarse as you speak to him. “Hi.” He says back, lifting himself off of you and landing next to you on the bed so as not to smother any further.

Spencer pulls your body close to his and holds you against him and you hold him tightly, not wanting to let go, if it was the last thing you did. He holds you and you feel a kiss on the top of your head and mutters against your head — “Are you okay?” He asks.

You smile, moving your head to look up at him — “I’m perfect.” He grazes his eyes from your eyes to your lips and before you know it, you both lean in for a kiss.

You stay there like that, for the rest of the night. At least, after he cleans the both of you off and he discards the condom. And he later readjusts his body to lay against yours, head resting on your chest as you play with his hair and you smile to yourself. You still can’t believe it. You’ve fallen so hard for him. If he breaks your heart, you’d be done for. He’s everything you want and more.

As you stay there, you lean over to grab your phone and find a text message from Penelope.

Penelope💘: I take it by his late it is, you’re staying over? 😉🥰🫣

You shake your head as you send a reply back.

You: Tell Ellie I love her and that I’ll be home tomorrow morning.

Penelope💘: What? No details????

You: I don’t kiss and tell, Penelope 🙈

Penelope💘: So kissing was involved!!!

You roll your eyes as you set your phone back down and ruffle Spencer’s hair softly. This was the most peaceful you’ve seen him. You were sure he was asleep by now.

And in this moment in time, you prayed for more nights like this. In his bed, with his love and with his heart in your hands. He’d make you the happiest person in the world if you’d let him.

And maybe you might just let him.

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

MORE TO LOVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to see you naked.”

Then, everything comes to a halt.

“N-naked?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

“I love you. You know that, right?”

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

“I love you,” you say back.

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

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

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

“Beyoncé?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think so?” You tease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you scream again for me tonight?” 

-`♡´-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A breathy moan leaves your lips. 

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

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

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

Perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Spence!” You squeal. 

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

“You pulled my bra down.”

“Did I break it?”

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

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

“It’s not that, Spencer,” you sigh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, you weren’t expecting that answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus,” Spencer says breathlessly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You drive me absolutely crazy, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could only cry, begging for more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to fuck my tits?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s the correct term!”

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

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

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

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

“Not yet, sweetheart. Wait on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No One is Alone

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis: Spencer realizes you guys might have more in common than he thought when he finds out your parent also has schizophrenia.

Category: Angst, mostly Fluff

Warnings: poorly written one-shot (sorry y’all), crying, reader’s father has schizophrenia, concerned spencer, reader tells a story about her father having an episode, reader’s father is a violent schizophrenic but this does not reflect on those who have schizophrenia! reader has semi-daddy issues, reader has hair but hair color and length is not mentioned! spencer being such a sweetheart! <3

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! back at it again with another lil fanfic one-shot? so i wrote this one to be kind of a personal one since my own parent has schizophrenia and honestly it’s one of the reasons i relate to spencer so much. i’m sorry if this affects anyone, but i wanted to write this one for myself :) i don’t know too much about schizophrenia, i only just know what i was feeling so a lot of this is just reader feeling a lot of feelings and spencer comforting them! i hope you like this one nonetheless! <3

You were constantly checking your cell phone. Every two minutes and ten seconds, you kept checking. And after that, you’d sigh in relief, rub your temples and go right back to work. You’d repeated this for over an hour and a half.

And Spencer had been watching it. Watching you. Of course, not to be creepy or anything. He’d just happened to notice and he was concerned.

You’d joined the BAU a little over less than a year ago and still not one person knew anything about you. Except Spencer. You often kept to yourself but somehow opening up to him was just easier. He never judged, never pried. Some might say that maybe that’s because he had a bit of a crush on you and you wouldn’t exactly deny the fact that you thought he was cute.

Spencer had looked away as he went to focus back on his work and then your phone started to vibrate and you quickly picked it up, nearly knocking over your coffee off your desk — and walked away from your desk.

“Hello?” You’d asked a little frantically as you marched out of the bullpen.

Spencer had looked around before leaving his desk, deciding to follow you out of the bullpen to see what you were up to. He’d followed your voice to an empty office and peeked in as he saw the back of your head.

“So you’re both okay?” You’d asked and waited for the response on the phone. Your tense shoulders sank in relief as your head bowed down and you nod, “That’s good. And Dad’s back on his medication?” Medication? Spencer furrowed his brows as he watched you nod along to the conversation.

“Okay, that’s good. And you sure you’re gonna be fine?” You asked and waited once more. “Okay, well, I’m at work, so I got to let you go.“ A small pause. “Okay, I love you, Mom. Bye.”

You hang up and put your phone back in your pocket and you take a minute. Your head bows down once more and Spencer all of a sudden sees your back bouncing up and down and he can hear you crying. He frowns, he hates seeing you cry.

Spencer decides to back away, going to leave you alone since it seems like you need it right now. But the floorboard creaks underneath his shoes and you turn around with a gasp and you finally see the man with a guilty look on his face.

“Reid…” You turn away quickly as you begin to wipe your eyes and your nose. “What are you—?” Spencer shakes his head and holds his arms up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just… I saw you kept checking your phone and I was worried so I just wanted to… check on you.”

Spencer walks into the room more and he can see just how puffy and red your eyes are and his heart aches at that. “Are you okay?” He asks in a small voice and you take a deep breath and nod your head but your eyes say it all.

“I just… I don’t want to bother you with it.” You say in a hoarse voice and Spencer wonders if your voice has sounded like that all day.

He walks into the room fully and shuts the door behind him as you sit on the floor and Spencer’s heart breaks even more as he sits next to you on the floor.

“You are not bothering me with anything,” Spencer tells, placing an arm around you to comfort you. Granted, he’s a little awkward when he does it but he still does so. “Will you tell me what’s the matter?”

You sniffle and look down as you fiddle with the ends of your sweater. “Uh… it’s my dad.” Spencer sighs, thinking that something may have happened to him. He didn’t know that he wasn’t far off from his hypothesis. You didn’t talk about your family much, just that you had parents that were still together and that you had a fairly normal childhood.

“He’s, uh,” You sniffle once more. “He’s not… well.” From your sentence, Spencer would’ve assumed that maybe your dad was physically ill but the way your tone sounded, something was off.

“What do you mean ‘not well’?” Spencer asked and you looked down at your hands, avoiding any and all eye contact. But nonetheless, you decide to rip off the band-aid. “My dad, uh, he has… schizophrenia.”

“And he had one of his episodes because he forgot to take his medication. And my mom called me and she was scared because he keeps thinking that there’s a family living in our basement. Or that I’ve been kidnapped by them. And my mom was so scared he was gonna hurt someone. And… he…” You pause and try to hold it together. “He… threw a knife at my mom.” You wipe your eyes once more. “They’re at the hospital now and he’s medicated and my mom is okay. But the way she sounded, she was so scared, Spencer.”

“He… he’s usually violent when he has his episodes. And the medication… the medication helps. On the medication, he’s normal. But he’s… forgetful sometimes. He was, uh, diagnosed when I was ten. I can’t tell you how many times I had to lock myself in my room when he got like that.”

Spencer looks at you with wide eyes. And it was like his childhood seemingly flashed before his eyes. He’d been through the same thing with his mother. Hell, they probably shared the same story at one point. He had no idea you went through that, too. And suddenly all he could envision was a young you, going through the same thing with your dad and his heart broke again.

“It’s like… sometimes, I can’t escape it. And it’s like I’m a kid again and… sometimes, I fear I may… end up like him.” You start to sob again and this time, Spencer pulls you in close and holds you as he cry into his dress shirt.

You stay like that for a good thirty minutes until you finally pull away. Your eyes have gotten even more puffier and you wipe them with the ends of your sleeve.

“You must think I’m such a wreck.” You attempt to joke. But Spencer shake his head and pulls a strand of hair behind your ear and rests his hand on your shoulder. “I definitely don’t. In fact, I understand.”

You nod at him, knowing his own history with his mother having schizophrenia. He was open about it but you never felt like talking about it, in fears no one would understand. And you never told Spencer because he had his own fair share of “crazy”, you didn’t want to burden him with that.

“I wish you would’ve told me this sooner so that you weren’t dealing with this all by yourself.” Spencer tells, he strokes your arm with his hand as you shake your head, “I didn’t want to bother you with it.” You reveal.

Spencer shakes his head at you, “You could never bother me. I understand this subject all too well. Do you know how many times a day I fear the fact that I may receive the schizophrenic gene? Let me tell you, Y/n, a lot.” You look down and Spencer looks at you, “I just want you to know that you’re not alone. No matter how much you think you may be. You’re never alone.”

With a nod, you grab his hand and hold it and he rubs his thumb against your knuckles, as if it’s serving as a reminder that he’s here, with you. And he understands.

“Can we just stay here for a minute?” You ask, quietly — almost wanting to kick yourself in the head for even suggesting it in case he didn’t or had other things to attend to.

“We can stay here as long as you need.” Spencer assured and you smile at him and thank God that he was the one that followed you and not anyone else.

You handled things by yourself since you were a kid. You’d always been independent and that meant you were so used to being alone and dealing with your dad’s schizophrenia, you didn’t think twice when you decided not to talk to Spencer about it. But he’d made it clear that you could talk to him if needed.

And maybe for once, you didn’t feel alone. And maybe somebody else could understand.

erika thank you for releasing this masterpiece 🛐

to talk is to bare | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately Content: insecure reader, written with early s2 Spencer in mind (glasses!Spencer rawr), reader wears makeup, implied bad relationships in the past, Spencer is just a sweetheart Word count: 2.4k A/N: entry for #lovers1kevent (congrats @mggslover muah) - the lyric prompt for this is “And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your (self help) books so you'd think that I was smart” from enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo. This was supposed to just be pure angst but apparently, I can't write this man as anything other than the perfect boyfriend.

“Well, actually, Dostoevsky intended the book to be a critique on certain schools of thoughts and ideologies, namely...”

You stare at your boyfriend, nodding along as he explains the intricacies and historical context of Notes from the Underground to you. His smile is kind and excited when he stops, looking at you expectantly.

“Right.” the smile on your face isn't forced, per se, but neither does it reach your eyes. How many times has it happened this month? It isn’t that you’re keeping count of all the times he’s corrected you—truthfully, you can’t, because you’ve lost count. And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? The fact that you can’t even keep track of his corrections anymore, because he does it all the time. 

You remind yourself he's not doing this to deliberately make you feel stupid, your memory immediately calling forth all the times you've seen him correct other people — his teammates, the cashier at your favorite bookstore, a random person in the park. It's never pointed, nor is the act laced with anything but genuine, loving desire to share his knowledge. He's not like the men you've had to deal with in the past, the ones who jump at every opportunity to show off that they know more than you, that they're correct and you're wrong.

But this is Spencer. Sweet, wholly inexperienced, awkward. Half the time, he doesn't know how he comes across, and you've been dating him long enough to understand that. 

No, his corrections aren’t the crux of the issue. In fact, it isn’t even him. It’s you, and all the treacherous thoughts running through your mind. This damn book you’d read because you saw a dog eared copy in his satchel one day, pushing through pages upon pages of dense material just to catch up and relate with him, only to still come up short and have yourself be corrected.

The sting is still there, lingering and acrid in the back of your tongue. You cannot pinpoint it yet, this But it's Spencer Reid, so you grit your teeth and remind yourself not to take it personally. The words slip out easily. You could almost believe they aren’t lies. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The beam on his face is a reminder that not everyone is as patient, that he's come to expect looks that range from baffled to downright annoyed. Nobody else allows him free reign to talk like this, long winded rambles that get nipped at the bud with a sharp Reid. He smiles, beams at you, and this time the smile on your lips finally reaches your eyes.

“So what did I get wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong,” he’s pulling you in as he answers, lips finding the underside of your jaw and the bitterness dissipates, sweetens into something that makes your toes curl, “Just a little inaccurate.”

Your body melts into him easily. “You don't have to sugarcoat with me.”

“I'm not, it's literature. You can interpret it however you want, I just thought knowing the rest of the context would help you with your opinion.” he's kissing down your neck, breaths ghosting over your skin as he continues to talk, and you sink into his arms, forgetting why you were even feeling annoyed in the first place.

You’re not sure if you like the color you’ve put to make your cheeks flush. It's always been a point of contention in the past, your exes saying you don't put enough effort in, so this time with Spencer, you try. Even though you're not the best at it, even though you feel a little foolish because it seems a little too bright despite all of your hurried attempts to blend it a little more. But it’s too late to change now. You don’t want to go through the whole deal of reapplying your makeup because that would mean running late, so you ignore it and head to the cafe quickly. 

Spencer isn't there yet. You order your drinks, his black and into which you dump an exorbitant amount of sugar. Memorization is his thing, but you've come to learn a thing or two about him in the time you two are dating.

He's a few minutes late, and when he arrives, Spencer’s eyes lock on you. Or, more specifically, your cheeks.

“That bad?” you tease, standing from your seat and leaning over for a kiss. 

“You don’t have the coloring for that shade of red.”

Your brow knits as you pull away. Attempting to hide the flood of insecurity that swept through your chest, you let out a chuckle. Soft, shaky, and accompanied with a confused, “What?”

“It makes your cheeks look a little inflamed.”

“Oh.” 

Regret fills your chest, settling in your lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. You should have trusted your instincts and scrubbed the makeup off. Shouldn’t have tried something new on the one day the two of you can go out. He’s probably embarrassed by you. How silly, being a full grown woman wearing makeup bordering on clownish. 

He must have caught the hurt in your voice, the way your body deflates because he’s quick to remedy. “Hey, what’s that look for?”

It should embarrass you, the speed at which he picks up on your emotions. But he’s a profiler after all, he’s specifically trained for this, but sometimes you wish he doesn’t use it against you. Gentle hands cup your face. Cold hands, perpetually so until you’ve started keeping them between yours. They tilt your head up. 

“Talk to me.” 

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

You smile, “No, I think we both know that’s a lie.”

He relents. He knows you’re right; there are moments where you don’t make sense. “Not stupid, just…” his eyes roam your face while he searches for the word to use as compromise, as though he’ll find it tucked somewhere in your pretty features, “Lapses in discernment.”

You roll your eyes at his fancy vernacular, the attempt to soothe his mistake. “I think I prefer the layman’s term.” 

Spencer laughs sheepishly, then presses his lips to your forehead, “I’m never using that to describe you.” he murmurs against your skin, and then, “I'm sorry.”

Antarctica could melt from the warmth in your chest.  “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”

“I upset you. That's reason enough.”

You sigh, pulling him to join you on the plush booth seat you'd managed to secure for your date. “Well, there's nothing to forgive.”

He accepts the coffee you hand him, corners of his mouth curved in a gentle smile. He sips, and you stew in silence, knowing that you shouldn't be leaving him guessing like this. He'd want to know, you can tell by the way he's studying you, the way he wants to examine and turn over your thoughts and reactions like he does with everything else in his life. But he waits, lets you open up if you so wish.

God, he's perfect.

“I was just having second thoughts about my makeup,” you murmur finally, “And you kind of confirmed it. I told you it's stupid.”

“Not stupid at all. I'm sorry,” you wonder if he takes his coffee sweet to match his personality, this asshole, “It was an insensitive comment. And for what it's worth, you look beautiful regardless.”

“Inflamed cheeks and all?” 

He laughs, pulling you to his side, lips firmly planted on your cheek “Inflamed cheeks and all.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn the blush after all; you're sure he's making you flush scarlet just by being such a sweetheart.

“Oh Spencer knows her.” the teasing tone in Derek Morgan’s voice normally makes you smile, but something about his tone makes you pause. You stare at the TV, where a new show is running, eyes zeroed in on the blonde actress.

“Spencer knows her?”

“Knew,” your boyfriend supplies, “Very briefly.”

Derek Morgan gives him a knowing smirk that has your stomach churning all the way to the end of the night, when you’re getting ready for bed.

You're in his apartment, in an old pair of his plaid pajamas and a t-shirt that fits you surprisingly well. It always makes you smile, his slight frame, the way you could easily steal his clothes and they wouldn't dwarf you too much. But tonight, Derek's words ring over and over again, bringing forth the image of her—Lila Archer, dazzling, perfectly curvy, an actress on a popular TV series… and apparently, a friend of his. You aren't really sure where this jealousy is coming from. He’s a trustworthy man, and you know he loves you. Still, the image of the beautiful actress persists, even as you climb into bed with him.

He's reading as he usually is, the low lamplight casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face. Without even looking, he shifts the book to his other hand, freeing up an arm to draw you to his body. It's easy, quiet, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your ear as you rest your head on his chest. The exact opposite of your own heartbeat right now.

“What's on your mind?” 

“Nothing.” It should be a sin, the way you keep denying your feelings. But it's just so silly, and you're a grown woman. Jealousy and insecurity shouldn't be consuming you like this, and yet…

“Please don't lie to me,” his fingers are in your hair, tangling deep into the strands and seeking for your scalp. They’re soothing and rhythmic upon contact, lulling your body into a sense of relaxation even though your heart still hammers at your chest.

“Why do you say that?”

“You usually remind me to use the overhead lights when I read.” fingers putting pressure on your scalp, traveling to your temple. He has you in the palm of his hands, “You didn't do that tonight. And your heartbeat's going at an abnormally high rate, even though I'm quite certain you didn't do anything strenuous before coming to bed. What's going on?” 

Damn him and his attention to detail, and the way he’'s learned your little quirks and oddities. He puts down his book and you turn your face to hide into his chest.

You chew on your bottom lip, reminding youself that this is Spencer, he wouldn't judge. “How’d you know her?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, “Lila.”

“We had a case in Los Angeles.” he pauses, as if considering if he should say more. Right. Confidentiality. You nod, accepting his answer.

“Must have been a high profile one then,” you muse, “Or were you just hanging around Hollywood studios with Derek?” It’s an unfair statement, but you can’t help it.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that.” You look back up at him and oh there’s guilt swimming in pools of honey eyes. “I mean, we kissed once, but I swear, nothing beyond that.”

You exhale. A kiss. He's kissed a TV starlet. 

This shouldn’t even be an issue. This is before you were even in the picture after all. It’s not fair to uphold him to some weird standard. You certainly had relationships before him. But none of them had been as stunning as Lila Archer. And if he could have Lila Archer, then what is he doing with you? 

“Hey,” his other hand comes to stroke your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles, “Talk to me.”

It's a difficult thing, being mature and communicating when you just want to stew, but god he's so good, you can't punish him for this, for anything. “I thought you said I was your first girlfriend?” you say instead, teasing him.

“You are, but you know, I’ve kissed before, and been on dates—”

“With Lila?”

“No, with JJ.”

Oh.

“JJ?”

JJ? His lovely, warm spring day beauty coworker JJ? He went on a date with her? And kissed Lila Archer. It’s almost ridiculous, thinking about the type of women he's had dalliances with—lithe, blonde, perfect, before he settled with you. 

“Yeah, I took her to a Redskins game,” he says, his hold on your face still light. There's room to move if you want to, space to pull away should you need it and god he's just so perfect.

“You have a type, huh?” it comes out unbidden, sharp but dulled by a bitter laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“With women,” you reply, trying to temper the snappy tone of your voice. It's not fair to lash out at him like this, you know that, yet you can't help it. It's habit at this point, a form of defense that your exes have all been too happy to participate, “I'm the outlier.”

And apparently, he's an outlier too because his voice grows even softer, eyes searching your face with an anxiety that fills you with guilt. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you sigh, arm draping over his waist and hugging him tight. 

He returns the favor, tangling your legs together until you're a mess of limbs under his sheets. “Then what's wrong?”

“Sometimes I just feel like—like I'm not good enough to be dating you.” there it is, whispered into his chest, striking straight to his heart. “And now, knowing that you could have had all of these — these women who could pass for models—”

“Angel,” the way he says the nickname makes you hide even further into his chest. He closes his arms around you, holding you so tightly it's difficult to breathe, but that's okay. Let him fuse your bodies together, let his breaths be yours too, “That's not true, you know that's not true.”

“Isn't it? You're so — you. Intelligent, well decorated in academia, an an elite FBI unit…”

He laughs, “I’m also an endlessly annoying know it all, I failed my gun license exam more than once, I don't have abs—”

“You don't need abs,” you counter, fingers clutching on his shirt.

“Wouldn't you rather be with a guy with a six pack?”

“I'd rather be with you.”

He gently moves away from you, hands finding your face to make you look at him. “And I'd rather be with you.”

You pout, “You can't use my words against me, ‘s not fair.” 

He laughs again, leaning to capture your lips in the gentlest of kisses, “I want you, I chose you, and I adore you,” he's murmuring between each kiss, hands cradling your face, “And if you have these thoughts again, tell me, so I can keep reminding you just how much I love you.” 

➺ My masterlist | Event masterlist

➺ thank you so much for reading <3

I literally got 1 (ONE) comment on ao3 for my spencelle fanfic, and that just made wanna come back to it lol. We as a society need to bring back commenting on fanfictions. I am sick and tired of not getting ANY feedback.

Louder…

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Sunshine Shy!Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer on a couch… need I say more?

Category: Smut

Warnings: pure fluff and smut, brief mentions of S12 prison arc in the beginning, mutual pining, grumpy x sunshine trope, kissing, smut warnings: soft dom!spencer, unprotected p in v, fucking from behind 🤭 (my first time writing this bear with me), dirty talk, spencer wants reader to be vocal during sex, creampie

Author’s Note: lowkey not proud of this ugh

You didn’t know how you managed to get here. You never thought you’d be here— dating the man you’d heard so much about and fawned over since you started the BAU.

When he was arrested and convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, Spencer Reid thought all of his luck had run out. He was screwed over in so many ways and this was another thing he could add to the list of ways life has failed him. And once he got out, he was sure he could never go back to who he was.

And while that was true, he didn’t know he’d have you. The newest BAU intern he was sure was here to take over his position in the unit. You were everything he was at twenty-four— lost in a daze of excitement, eager to work and please, not sure what she was doing half the time but managed to do her job.

At first, he’d wanted nothing to do with you but then, in some weird way— you’d won over his heart. Ever since that night on the jet when he saw you reading one of Leo Tolstoy’s works and interrupted you, asking what you were reading and you spent the rest of the night exchanging interesting facts about Tolstoy’s works.

This occurred for a few weeks until Luke had asked Spencer when he was going to finally ask you out. He shook it off, liking what the two of you had at the moment. But after that, he started noticing you more— how excited you’d get when something fascinated you, much like how he did in the past, how your nose would scrunch up in embarrassment and how bright and wide your eyes would get when he would talk about what he knew. And then, on one faithful day— he finally did it. He asked you out and you said yes.

And now here you were, with your boyfriend— almost six months now— in his apartment, on his couch, cuddling with him.

You two were supposed to have a movie night, watching some documentary about animals and you found yourself scooting impossibly closer to him, nudging your body back into his as he was positioned behind you, blanket covering both of your bodies and his hand rubbing at your side, the heat in his touch making you feel tingly so much that you could help but back into him.

Spencer was sure you were doing it on purpose, backing into him like this— because with how you were two were positioned, your ass rubbing against his groin— he was getting hard. And he couldn’t help it. You were the one doing this to him. And after a small giggle, he started getting the hint that you were in fact, doing it on purpose. After the first few times you did it, it was unmistakable that it was him.

“Angel…” Spencer winced in a warning tone. You chuckle again, “Sorry, love, I just… I can’t help it.”

Instead of a serious tone, he gave you an amused smirk and whispered into your ear — “Well, I’m not gonna deprive my angel of her pleasure, now am I?” You turn your cheek to meet Spencer’s eyes and lean forward to kiss his lips, so gently and passionately.

As you two kiss, his hands travels upwards towards your breasts, grabbing one of them and squeezing as your tongue explores his mouth, causing him to let out a sigh inside of your mouth.

The same hand travels down towards your wet pussy, causing you to let out your own sigh of content as he sticks a finger towards your clit and briefly rubs. “You’re so wet.” He points out and you nod gently, “For you, always.”

He removes his hand, then deciding to move towards your sleeping shorts — the same sleeping shorts Spencer kept eyeing your ass in as soon as you put them on — and pushed the fabric to the side, along with your underwear and pulling down his sweatpants down a bit to release his cock.

You turn your head to look him in the eyes. This was the first time you were doing it in this position. Usually, you two were in missionary and you were riding him so this was a new experience with the both of you. You want to do this right and you know he wants to too and you look at his eyes as you grab his cock, giving it a few strokes and he gets lost in what you’re doing to him that he nearly cums but he wants to blow his load inside of you, he can’t waste it.

So, he stops your movement and holds your hand as you hold his cock and you both guide it towards your slick walls. He waits a moment before slowly going in and you let out a gasp as he sticks a few or more inches in.

Spencer’s eyes meet yours as he nods to you with wide eyes, “Are you okay?” He asks and you nod eagerly, “Yes, yes, I’m okay. Keep going.” You encourage him and he nods at you as he sheathes the rest of himself inside of you and you stay like that for a second, lost into each other’s eyes once more until he starts going.

It’s not long before he finds a rhythm, tilting his head back in pleasure as he fucks into your pussy, your noises clamoring together as your juice leak down onto his cock. You’re both letting out moans, the sounds drowning the long-forgotten documentary out as he grips onto your hip and drives his cock in and out of your walls.

“Oh, fuck—” Spencer groans into the shell of your ear and you try holding onto the cushion for some type of leverage as he keeps going at an animalistic pace. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Oh, my God.“

You try holding back your moans but Spencer notices quickly and is having none of it. He loves when you’re vocal during sex— but sometimes you develop a habit of not making noise, mostly because of how past relationships made you feel in the past. And he refuses to be one of those people— especially when he loves hearing your noises. “Come on, angel— I want to hear what I do to you, please…”

You let out a small moan, slowly breaking out your own bit of confidence that he brings out of you. “Louder…” Spencer tells. You moan, a tad louder this time. It’s still not enough. “Louder.” He demands once more as you go an octave higher. “Louder.” He says, once more. You nearly scream as he continues to pound into you, hand trailing down to your clit as he begins to rub it, wanting you to come right along with him.

“Let go for me, angel. I want to feel you cum around my… my—“ He whines, not being able to finish his sentence as he feels you clench onto him and shriek as you cum around his cock and his hips stutter and he fills you with his warmth.

You both pant after the fact, his cock still inside of you but softening and the overstimulation becoming borderline painful. When you finally open your eyes, you turn towards the credits on the TV.

“Hey, we finished the documentary.”