Summary: It seemed simple; cure the villains then send them and the two Peters back to their Earths. But is it ever that easy? Especially when Peter #3 won’t stop looking at you like that.
CONTENT: two flirty(angsty) 18 year olds what more could you ask for
NOTES: in my mind I imagined wanda’s powers but you can imagine whatever you prefer. i used a couple lines of dialogue I found on pinterest because I loved them so much, so let me know if you recognize which ones! also, tell me if you know what the title is from ;)
you didn’t ask for this life, nor did you want it. well, no one ever asks to be born so you don’t suppose anyone ever does. the only choice you get is how you live it. you tried to choose the right path, you really did. be a good person, treat people the way you want to be treated… but people suck and life sucks, so why the hell not go down the more fun path?
…
“c’mon really? you’re just wasting your bullets, man,” you say, conjuring another red force of magic from the palms of your hands throwing it in his direction. you really didn’t think you’d be spending your night in the middle of the street of an intersection fighting against a bunch of cops. you thought you’d be cleaning blood off your floor after torturing the man you have in your car, but you guess life just loves to throw you some curve balls. yes, you may have kidnapped a scientist and have him stashed in the back of your car, but you have good reason! very good reason. there are almost four police cars blocking each street, so there’s no getting out. you could for sure, but not with him.
“release the doctor, now! we won’t hurt you if-”
“do you really think I believe you? I mean, honestly, you’d think people of the law would have a little bit more of a brain,” you pull up your mask a bit higher on your face so the only thing showing are your eyes. honestly, you had to give it to yourself, you look hot sporting this whole black assassin thing you have going on here. you kind of made this your signature look and you aren’t mad about it. especially when you can tell even the good guys are having a hard time looking away. particularly a certain spider.
you’re just friends. friends who sometimes find solace in each other’s arms and between your sheets. you know he can’t make any promises, but you need more from him.
PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x fem reader
WORD COUNT: 4,8k
CONTENTS: post tasm 2, fwb sort of dynamic, talks of death and mentions of gwen (rip), allusions to sex and some kissing but no actual nsfw business, a lot of angst with a happy ending for a change?
A/N: I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this man and how much I’ve loved him for years, I’m so happy to finally be writing for him!!!! NWH destroyed me, so here’s a little piece of that brokenness, from my heart to yours xx
SUMMARY: with peter gone, you found solace with the most unexpected person ever—spider-man. meanwhile, an opportunity from the past arises again and you must decide whether to take it or not.
WARNINGS: mentions of death, depression, grieving, cursing, blood, and canon-typical injuries. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 17+]
AUTHOR’S NOTE: thanks for all the love you’ve shown part 1 and sorry this part took so long! please let me know if you see any mistakes :)
DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.
I wanna see the teams reactions to reader and how cute Spencer is with her and how protective she is of him. Maybe Spence gets a little drunk and reader has an arm locked around him with a possessive scowl on their face. Pleeaasee??
you ask and you shall receive! i’m glad you enjoyed secrets, anon<3 sorry this is so late :(
secrets p. 2. spencer reid
spencer reid x fem!reader
part 1 | part 2 ♡ this can be read as a stand-alone though!
summary: everyone expected spencer’s plus one to be his grandma or a close friend visiting. to see him show up with you hanging off his arm, clad in a black dress and rubbing your blood red lips together, you become the talk of the night.
warnings: fluff fluff just straight fluff!! spencer introducing his gf to the fam, teasing, drinking, flirting , nothing out of da norm. r is tough and possessive and spencer is basically her girlfriend.
a/n: someone take pinterest away from me because i’m getting too good at scouring for mgg stills and staring at them for hours. tell me you didn’t stare at that picture too.
spencer texted morgan that night, telling him that he’s bringing a plus one. morgan responded with a curt “yea bring ur ma on over why not.”
it appears that morgan did not take spencer that seriously. so he texted garcia, and she responded with “which member of the family havent we met? ❤️” spencer was just midst of falling on to his knees.
the day rolls around and spencer dreads it, plots a plan to make you watch a star wars movie marathon so that you’d fall asleep by the time of the event. he’s not a social recluse, by any means (okay so sometimes he is) but he prefers an evening staying in over going out. and it’s sunday evening, too, and he just wants an early night and to kiss you lazily until he’s sleepy. he doesn’t want to start the car, doesn’t want to get dressed up and get tidy for the bar. doesn’t wanna go anywhere.
the marathon plan backfired on him. just as you’re halfway through the third movie, you start pushing the throw blanket off your bodies, nudging spencer’s arms off of you. spencer whines, and he tries to make himself look extra pathetic (which didn’t take much, considering how he’s already desperate to get out of meeting the team) so that you’d pity him.
you don’t fall for his act one bit, which is extremely humbling to spencer. his puppy eyes used to work on you, but he suppose you’ve grown an immunity to them. “lazy boy,” you chides. he hides his face in the crook of your neck and you laugh. “come on, we’ll be late.”
“fashionably late,” spencer quips. you laugh again, detangling your bodies and press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the living room. spencer sits on the couch for a while and contemplates.
he does end up dragging his ass off the couch and freshen himself up. you have decided to use the guest bathroom for some reason, and he gets ready by himself, shaving before throwing on a simple burgundy sweater with all kind of patterns on it and some black pants, smoothing his hair out a bit and tucking them neatly behind his ears.
he rubs at his chin, looking at himself in the mirror. he looks like a middle school civics teacher, but he couldn’t careless.
he grabs his phone and slides it in his back pocket, going to the closed guest bathroom door. he knocks softly, leaning in close to not miss your voice.
“yn?”
“almost there,” you respond through the door.
“can i come in?”
“uhh,” spencer frowns. it’s unusual you’re doing this. you guys have shared an apartment for five months now, and he’s basically learned to lived around your life, to always have you wherever. getting ready apart is definitely unusual, and you’re being hesitant about letting him in, even.
maybe you’re still mad about the lila thing. he should apologize the moment he gets the chance.
“sure honey,” you say finally. spencer cautiously opens the door, and you’re sitting on the bed, pulling up your black pantyhose. he melts and perks up simultaneously at the sight of you.
you’re wearing a shiny, black silk dress that goes halfway down your thighs, the material pooling on the white sheets as you adjusts the pantyhose, reaching for your matching black leather mary janes. spencer looks down at himself, feeling timidly underdressed. you look up and smile at him so easily as if you're not the most beautiful woman in the world.
spencer feels his throat clog up. he clears it but when he speaks his voice is still blurry. "hi."
"hi," you buckle up your mary janes, gold necklace hovering above your knee. spencer stands awkwardly at the door, too entranced to move. you look up when he doesn't answer immediately, and breathe out a laugh when you see the dumb, starstruck look on his face. "gonna stand there all night baby?"
"mhm," spencer says absentmindedly. he finally bounces off the door frame and carefully sits himself on the bed next to you, cautious with every move. he immediately gets a faceful of the scent of your perfume and you look like an angel, smell like one too. "new dress?"
"mhm, thrifted it the other night," you respond. you stand up from the bed and do a small twirl, the thin fabric forming the shape of a flower, flying. you remind him of a black cherry blossom, if those even existed. "you like it? found it for four dollars. can you believe that? deal of a lifetime. if i had gotten to the thrift later someone would've snatched it right up."
to be honest, spencer isn't listening to a single word you're saying. he stares at you, and your silver hoops and crinkling eyes and the silver necklace he gifted you for your birthday five months ago and gets dizzy with the thought of how lucky he is.
"crazy deal," he says. then blurts. "you look beautiful."
you smile playfully. "you're just saying that," you laugh, smoothing out your hair in the mirror installed in the wardrobe. spencer stares at your reflection. "looking dapper yourself, doctor."
"do you think i should change?" he asks. because right now, it looks like you're both dressing up for different events. him to a school-based textbook debate conference and you to a high class art museum. neither events are the actual event you are both going to.
"you look handsome, spence," you reassure him. "that sweater. it suits you."
"it doesn't suit the bar," spencer grumbles quietly, still upset that he has to show up. he's not a bar man. more of a picnic or joinery kind of guy.
"you weren't born to suit whenever you're going," you say and then grab his hand. "we're gonna be late."
***
spencer gets even more grumbly when you both enters the bar, but you know in his heart he's extremely happy. he practically lights up when he sees his team crowding at a booth, dragging you along by the arm. he says hi to everyone, immediately comfortable just from the presence of his team except his excitement isn't mutual. the team isn't looking at him, but at you.
goggling like an eagle, some might say. you elbow spencer in the ribs. spencer looks at you questioningly, as if he doesn't know what to do.
"introduce me," you urge, feeling more awkward by the second. a man staring at you with his jaw on the table, beer frozen halfway to his lips you assume is morgan has a terrified look on his face. everyone does, actually.
"oh yeah. sorry," spencer says, ears turning slightly red but his beam is still bright. "everyone, this is yn. she's my girlfriend!"
"sweet mary jesus," morgan finally says. he breaks the ice, and the entire booth corrupts in excitement.
"reid, what are you doing? sit the lady down," jj scowl, scooting over and making space, squishing emily against her. spencer lets you slide in first, next to jj and he sits down after you, hand gentle at your waist. "why didn't you tell us?"
"well i tried to--"
"i really thought we had nothing to hide from each other. you know you could've trusted me with it!" garcia quips, her thick neon red earrings moving back and forth.
"i didn't do anything deliberate to hide it!" spencer defends himself snarkily.
"i couldn't deduce you had a girlfriend. i just thought someone who made you really happy started crashing at your place," hotch says, thoughtfully.
"let the girl talk," rossi rolls his eyes. spencer definitely captures their personalities well when he tells you stories about the bau, you recognize everyone just from a sentence. the table quiets and you can feel the warmness of eyes all on you.
"hi everyone," you could feel your cheeks getting warm from the attention. you wanted to make an impression, but it's hard. you go for the standard, "i've heard a lot about everybody."
"we would've loved to hear about you," garcia chirps. "but spencer is a very private soul. how long have you been together?"
the evening dissolves into small talk and teasing, and out of everyone in the bau, perhaps the one who's most shocked and proud of spencer is morgan. he sits back, arm tossed around garcia, admiring spencer like a pleased older brother seeing his baby brother ask for his car keys to take his new girlfriend out on a date. hotch has the same expression on his face, one of a proud dad.
he knew that something had been keeping spencer extra upbeat than usual, the lack of eye bags and how he's always energized and better put together. hotch couldn't place a figure on what it was, but now he realizes it was you. spencer almost glows, basking in the shower of your presence and hotch knows that under the table you and spencer are probably doing something cringy like rubbing circle-eights into each other's knees or holding hands under the table. the same thing he did when he was hopelessly in honeymoon love.
the entire table are happy for the both of you, but there's probably isn't anyone in the club more happy than spencer. he is lovesick and you're so beautiful, he can't help it. he feels more comfortable than he ever had been in a club, and that encourage him to knock more drinks down, have a little more fun.
"i'll grab the next round," you say, noticing that the beers in everyone's hands are getting lukewarm. you press a hand against spencer's thigh as you get up. spencer looks up at you, eyes wide and sweet. "i'll be right back."
as soon as you absorb into the crowd, the entire table startles in cheers and whistles. spencer glows red, partly from the alcohol. mostly from the attention. "my man!" morgan praises, knocking a punch into spencer's shoulder.
"ow!"
"she's beautiful," jj says approvingly. "she knows how to dress."
"i'm sayin'!" despite how much he denies it, derek is a horrible lightweight. he slurs. "how the hell did you bag her? tell us your secrets."
spencer blushes like a newly courted bride, going magenta all over.
"okay stop bullying the kid," emily says, but she's grinning wide.
"he definitely likes it," garcia giggles, pressed flat against morgan.
when you return, beers in your hand, the entire booth are giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls and your boyfriend is rambling, on and on. "sorry i took a while," you say, and within a flash everyone's grabbed beers for themselves, knocking the caps over. it's reached that point of the night when everyone's breath smells of beer, and the music is extra loud and everyone's extra dizzy. spencer latches onto you immediately the moment you sit down, staring at you with fucking moons in his eyes.
"i was just talking about you," he says, pupils wide. you know your boy is beyond drunk.
"yeah?" spencer nods. "what about?"
spencer hiccups and forgets the question. "wanna dance?"
a small smile creep on your face. it's unusual for spencer to ask, usually he doesn't even want to witness the act of people dancing together at all. "you sure?" you lock an arm around him. no one pays attention to the two of you, lost in their own conservations. spencer nods again.
"can we dance? let's go," he makes to move, pouting his lips but you slither your arms all over him, trapping him into you. "y/nnn," he whines.
"stay put for a bit for me okay?” you murmur, trying to distract him from the dancefloor.
it’s not like you oppose to dancing. hell, you love dancing, but ever since you stood up to grab the table drinks, you notice unwanted eyes across the bar glued on your boy, women with sharp eyebrows and pointy chins and short dresses, and you can never help the awful feeling that coils in your stomach.
jealousy is an irritating feeling to feel, and it’s telling you to dig your teeth into his neck and mark him all over for everyone to see and look away. but you won’t do that, because you have a slightest drops of decency you have saved up, and the least you can do is pamper spencer with kisses and grab onto his hand so tight he’d think of you instead of the inviting dancefloor.
spencer falls for it immediately, returning your kisses and whining pathetically against your lips, the alcohol making his head spin. spencer ‘s never been a fan of pda but he couldn’t careless now, hanging on you like a cat, dancefloor forgotten. you smile against his lips.
Summary- Despite kissing you, Mr Anderson wanted to remain professional, and was aware of the limitations of your relationships. Thankfully, he found a way for you both to be satisfied.
THE READER IS 18+
Warnings- Big age gap, filming, nudes, masturbating, manipulation, dubcon kissing, Kai Anderson.
Words- Nearly 4k! :D
Unrelated Part 1 to this is linked here<3
I’m British and would never say ‘math’ or ‘pen drive’ but I thought because in America, you can be 18 and in high school, it made more sense to set it there :)
Enjoy!
–
Everybody packed up their things and rushed out of the math class as fast as they could. But not you. It wasn’t unusual for Mr Anderson to ask you to stay behind, whether it was to talk to you, or to help clean up, he would find a reason. The private time you spent together started off very innocently, you, being a very obedient student, never had an issue with helping him out, but as the days went by, the conversation topics got weirder, and the compliments became excessive.
The amount wasn’t the problem; the problem was what he said. Being told you look good is nice, no matter who it’s coming from, but Mr Anderson clearly enjoyed seeing you nervous and blushy, so he pushed it. Telling you seeing your outfit makes his day, that you should wear tight jeans more often, and most recently, that you have childbearing hips. It was an honour to get complimented on your figure, but him looking at you and thinking about breeding you made you a little uneasy.
Peter’s searching your eyes, silent for a long moment, can’t find an out, can’t find an out, can’t find an excuse to live up to this one. And so he doesn’t lie. But he doesn’t tell the truth either. Steps over the crack at all costs. “I can’t.”
Pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader
Summary: Peter can’t tell you he’s Spider-Man. You’re his superstition, his black cat, his broken mirror, his crack in the pavement.
Warnings: Kidnapping, angst with a happy ending, reference to Gwen’s death, hurt/comfort eske, break up sex, vaguely described smut but still 18+!!!! NSFW!!
Words: 2.9k
A/N: based off of this request!! I just finished reading this book called In The Absence of Men that has made me so bone-crushingly sad that I needed to bring some of this angst into existence, with the happy ending I wished I had read. As always, reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated <3
request something! masterlist
Peter has this idea, this superstition. That as soon as he tells you he’s Spider-Man something awful will happen to you because of it.
It’s a ridiculous idea, an objectively delusional one founded in no sense of reality because that’s not how chance works, or causation, or the world in general. Nothing ever happens because you step on a crack in the pavement.
But after Gwen, he thinks it’s fair. To him, Gwen was his fault, her blood on his hands, and he would be damned if he let that happen ever again.
Spider-Man was nothing but an afterthought after Gwen, a symbol of his inadequacy, his pain, a constant reminder of what could have been.
But then he had met you. And you were bright and steadying and kind- God, were you always kind, above anything else, and the force of your love was enough to convince him. You had seeped into his bones, burrowed so deep inside him that he had felt light again, not so weighed down by it all. You’re the reason he finds joy in being Spider-Man again, and if never telling you that is what needs to be done to protect you, then it’s a price he’s willing to pay.
It’s late, later than Peter’s been trying to get home lately because he’s noticed you catching on, asking questions he can’t answer, and he’s never been great at making up excuses.
You don’t turn when he opens the front door.
You’re standing at the kitchen sink, water running, hands deep in the soapy water. All the lights are off save from the one right above you and the sliver of yellow slipping under the bedroom door.
“You’re up late,” He mutters, behind you now, hands slipping around your waist, face in the crook of your neck.
Peter looks forward to this after long nights, the warmth of it, of you, the comfort and the gentleness. Except for this time, his arms wrapped around you, he feels you go rigid. “Where were you?"
Prompt: Spencer takes care of his girlfriend after a bad day at work.
Based on this request: “Hi! Can I please request softdom!spencer helping reader after a bad day? Maybe some ownership and possessiveness, helping her be a mindless good girl for him 💕”
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Rating: Mature (18+, minors DNI)
Warnings: light dom/sub dynamics (Sub!Reader, Dom!Spencer), pet-names (doll) light degradation (cumslut, whore), praise kink, collaring, safe word (not used), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, ownership, very brief dom drop
Words: 8.6k
Please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting on the fic if you are on the taglist. Otherwise, you are essentially asking me to take an extra step to include you while offering me absolutely NOTHING in exchange, which is a pretty shitty feeling.
A.N.: There’s nothing to say. Hope you like this.
Special thank you to my wonderful doll @sassymoon for editing this piece.
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Spencer knows there’s something wrong as soon as you close the door, not making a single sound. Usually you call out his name to let him know you’re there, throwing your shoes on the floor and running to the bedroom to see if he’s there waiting for you, or you whistle to catch his attention.
But today you’re quiet.
Awfully quiet.
Not the kind of quiet Spencer knows precedes your need for attention.
It’s the kind of quiet that lets him know something has happened.
Spencer closes the file on his desk and leaves the bedroom, looking around the apartment to find where you decided to hide. He knew you were going to come home early because you texted him right after lunch from a friend's phone, saying you forgot yours at home. He was planning on taking you out for dinner and spoiling you, but from the way the evening is starting he assumes you’re not in the mood to hang out or leave the house.
“Doll?”
“In the kitchen!”
Spencer leaves his phone in the living room, following the direction the sound of your voice is coming from. He finds you next to the fridge with a glass of water in your hand and a banana peel in the other one.
Your eyes are glassy and your nose is red.
“Hey, I didn’t hear you coming in.”
You shrug, giving him a weak smile. “Sorry, I just… I was thirsty.”
“I can see that.” - he chuckles, taking a step forward - “I’ve missed you today.”
Spencer opens his arms and you immediately run up to him, closing your eyes and allowing the tight embrace to warm you up from the inside. This morning, when you woke up to get ready for work, you were tempted to wake him up to get a hug, but he told you that he couldn’t sleep while he was away in the past few days – and you didn’t want to bother him. He deserved to sleep a few more hours and you couldn’t be late for work, so you left the house in silence with a heavy heart.
You already knew it was going to be a horrible day at work from the moment you stepped out of your shared apartment.
Your car wouldn’t start, so you had to take the bus and of course, you missed it for a few seconds. You went back home and grabbed Spencer’s car keys, leaving him a note telling him you took it. When you finally arrived at work, you realised you forgot your phone at home – and you almost threw a tantrum in the changing room of the bar, because of fucking course, nothing goes well.
You managed to calm yourself down with a splash of water on your face and a few breathing exercises Spencer taught you. putting on your best fake smile you started the rest of your awful day at work, not uttering a single word to the rest of your colleagues and tried your best not to fight with one of them when she tried to tell you how to do your job.
You don’t know if they were all coincidences, but they pissed you off.
And they poisoned your day, making it really difficult to be approachable.
You had lunch all by yourself, worried that Spencer might have called or texted, but you couldn’t even worry about that because as soon as you finished eating, you had to go back to work. The afternoon was almost as worse as the morning, because your clients were just irritating – maybe you were overreacting, maybe you were just reading too much into people’s words, but they still pissed you off.
You waited, waited and waited some more patiently through the hours until the end of your shift. You gathered all of your things, including the car keys that belonged to Spencer, and left in a hurry without saying goodbye to the rest of your colleagues.
All you cared about on the drive home was to get to Spencer and lay in his arms, begging him to turn your mind off and letting him be your distraction for the rest of the day. You didn’t even want to take a shower, you just wanted him to hold you tightly and remind you that everyone can have bad days.
Even he does.
It doesn’t happen a lot, but it does happen.
“I saw you took my car this morning.”
You place the glass down on the table. “Yes. I’m sorry if I...”
“No, hey. It’s okay.” – Spencer tells you before you could finish your sentence – “I’ve already called the mechanic. He came over to take your car and fix it, so you can use it again in a couple of days.”
The sweetness of his gesture brings tears to your eyes.
Humming, you take a step back and look away, but Spencer forces you not to. You hate that he knows you’re not alright. Even though he’s not asking you questions, he can see you’re not fine and you really want to tell him, you know he needs to know the truth about the horrible day you had, but you just can’t bring yourself to speak up.
You’re exhausted, you just want to stop thinking.
“Is everything alright, doll?”
Sniffling, you force yourself not to look at him. “Yes, I’m just tired.”
“Do you want to come and take a nap with me?”
That’s not exactly what you were thinking about, if you have to be honest. So you shake your head. “No, I don’t think I can sleep right now.”
“What do you want to do, then?” – Spencer asks, leading you to the living room – “Do you want me to make some soup and cuddle with you on the couch? We could watch ‘Nightmare before Christmas’, since it’s almost that time of the year.”
Your eyes land on the other side of the living room, where Spencer has left his coat and his dark leather boots. More specifically, your eyes land on another leather object that has been staring at you for the past twenty seven days without you doing anything about it.
That’s the only object that can easily take your mind off anything.
It could clear your brain from all those venomous thoughts, shake that day off your shoulders and turn you into a mindless doll who can only feel pleasure – and reminding herself who she belongs to, body and mind.
Spencer turns around, raising his brows and following your gaze. When he finds exactly what you’re staring at, his expression softens and his hands gently end up on your chin.
“Oh.”
Tilting your head slightly up so that you have to look at him, you feel your heart drop in your chest when you meet his gaze. You didn’t need to open your mouth, you didn’t need to point at that specific object because Spencer knew exactly what you were staring at.
“Is that what you want?” – Spencer whispers, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your lips – “Do you want to be my little pet today, doll?”
You feel your knees weaken at the sound of his voice.
“Yes, sir. Please.”
“Do you want me to turn your mind off and be my good pet for a while?”
You can’t help yourself, but nod again in confirmation.
That’s what you’ve been craving for too long, dreaming about wearing that collar for the first time and feeling it burn your skin as a reminder of who you belong to. You were tempted to wear it at home while you were waiting for Spencer to get back, but you weren’t allowed to.
You had a specific rule for it.
‘Do not wear it when you are alone.’
You don’t know why Spencer gave you that rule, but you never broke it even though your body was screaming at you to do it. To be bad for one day, to demonstrate to him that he’s not the only one in control in this relationship – knowing damn well that yes, he’s the one in charge.
“Go wash your hands and take off all your clothes for me, doll.” – Spencer orders you, giving you another brief kiss on the lips – “I’ll set everything up in the bedroom. Okay?”
You stare at him, nodding your head like a brainless doll.
That’s what you are right now, already in that headspace that leads you to the intense pleasure of what’s going to happen to your body when you behave, when you show Spencer that all you crave and need right now is to pleasure him.
It’s incredible how a single object, flaunted in front of your face, can turn you into a mess.
Walking straight into the bathroom, you hear Spencer’s footsteps entering the bedroom and the sound of the door closing behind his back. A rush of adrenaline washes over you as you push your jeans down your legs, freeing yourself from the rest of your clothes in a few seconds.
You leave them on the floor of the bathroom – you’ll put them away later, when you’ll feel better and after Spencer has given you what you crave.
And then you wash your hands with strawberry soap, making sure to wash away all of your worries and focus on what you know Spencer is going to do once you step out of the bathroom.
You’ve never used a collar in the bedroom and no matter how many times you’ve begged him to put it on you, he never did. Spencer bought it at the end of your first year together as a gift; you saw it in his hands and the sight immediately brought you to your knees, because you knew what it meant.
A collar is not simply just an object for you and Spencer.
A collar isn’t something you collect, it’s something to be cherished, respected. It’s all about owning you and making you feel his in the most intimate way, especially because he knows that touching it while he’s inside of you will be a constant reminder that you are his – every inch of your body, every piece of your soul, every breath you take, belongs to him.
For Spencer, it’s a bond greater than that of marriage.
He told you that a collar to him means more than an engagement ring and it’s worth more than a stack of pure gold. That simple leather piece he’s holding right now, while he waits for you in the bedroom, is a jewel that will remind him why he chose you.
It’s a confirmation that you want to be with him, that you want to share your life with him, that you’re willing to give up every ounce of control to him. No matter how many times you tried to beg Spencer to put it on you, he never did.
Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t think you were ready.
And now, after a horrible day, after hugging him so tightly, after looking at the collar as if it was the only thing in the world worth living for, Spencer realised that yes.
You are ready.
Finally.
You open the door of the bedroom, stepping in with your eyes on the floor. Spencer stands up from the bed and walks towards you, barely noticing your naked body – all he cares right now is putting that collar on you and owning you, to prove to you that there’s nothing better than being owned by someone.
Spencer wants to demonstrate how good you make him feel just because of your eagerness to please him.
“Look at me while I put your collar on, doll.”
Placing a collar around your neck is one of the most intimate acts of submission, because it means you’re willing to give yourself up to another person. Spencer can see in your eyes how eager you are to feel the leather attached to your skin, to feel it tightening around your throat when he’s going to push you around like the brainless doll you’re dying to be.
It’s a black leather strap with an O-ring on the front with a pendant charm.
You find it funny because it wasn’t supposed to end up there, on your beautiful collar. You bought it off the Internet as a joke because the term written on it, “cumslut”, was just Spencer’s derogatory term for you when you were acting like a brat.
But right now, that charm means absolutely everything for you.
You’re becoming exactly what you crave right now, nothing but a cumslut who deserves to be praised for being greedy and eager to please the man you’re deathly in love with. A man that wants to share the rest of his life with you, owning you and making you happy each day a little more until your hearts stop beating together.
“I’m committing myself to you. I promise to make you the highest priority of my life.”
You say while keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, feeling the lock behind your neck closing. Spencer keeps his hands on the collar, leaning forward to leave a single kiss on your lips before speaking.
“I offer you a collar and with it, my love. I promise to spend the rest of my life celebrating you, worshipping you, supporting you through everything.” – he whispers, making sure the leather is not cutting your skin or making you uncomfortable – “Do you accept my collar?”
With a sweet smile spreading over your lips, you nod. “Yes. I accept.”
And with your last answer, Spencer kisses you more fervently.
Your heart skips a beat when his hands slide behind your back, pushing your naked body against his. The sensation of the leather tied around your neck and Spencer’s possessive hands roaming all over your back, leaving red welts on your skin, are making your knees buckle.
You knew that wearing his collar was going to throw you off guard, but right now you feel on top of the world. As if all of your worries, bad moods and thoughts poisoning your brain have disappeared.
They vanish, leaving place for the intense pleasure running through your body.
Spencer interrupts the kiss as you take a step back, trying to regain balance after being pressed against him for so long. You miss the warmth of his body as soon as you pull away, whining because of the loss of his lips pressed to yours.
You don’t want to stop kissing him, but your mouth is going to worship every inch of his body because you want to. Because he deserves to, after giving you what you craved and what helped forget everything.
Spencer deserves to know you’re committed as he is to you. Even though he already knows, because that collar means exactly that, you want to demonstrate it even better.
“Get on your knees.”
You obey. The cold hard floor underneath you makes it difficult for you to focus on one thing at once, because your eyes are settled on Spencer’s face while your hands are still locked on his hips.
You feel the pendant attaching to your skin, sending a rush of adrenaline through your body. It makes you smile, and Spencer notices that.
“My beautiful doll.” – Spencer says, unbuckling his trousers – “Do you feel pretty with my collar around your neck?”
“I feel yours.”
Satisfied with your answer, he crooks his fingers. “It’s because you are.”
You lift your hands and place them where he wants them, right above his hips. Spencer pushes his trousers on the floor, keeping his eyes on your face the whole time. The desire burning behind them and the delicious eagerness to please are visible; Spencer can feel them running through his veins, making his blood boil in his body.
“You’re so incredibly brave, doll.” – Spencer says, kicking his trousers and his boxers off – “I’m so proud of you.”
Blushing, you bow your head down. “Thank you, sir.”
Once he’s completely naked in front of you, standing proud while you’re on your knees for him, he gently tilts your head upward. You stare at him as if he’s your most precious possession, which he is, and you give him another smile. You place your hands on top of his and ease into his touch, feeling his fingers caressing your cheeks.
The delicate gesture makes you shiver.
“Open your mouth.”
You obey his words, showing him your tongue. He stares down at you, watching how quickly you’re desperate to please him, and smirks. Your eagerness to show him how good you are for him is one of his favourite things about you, because it shows exactly how much you love him and how much control you’re willing to lose just to make him happy.
Spencer pushes two fingers down inside your mouth, grasping your tongue and pulling it lightly. You moan when he does that, blinking the tears of frustration away as they slide across your cheeks. You know he’s doing this just to prolong the pleasure, to show you that you have to wait and prove exactly how good you are at it – the more you wait, the more he’s going to reward you.
Deep down, you know it.
“Your mouth is perfect.”
Pulling his fingers out of your lips, he watches you whine at the loss again. A string of saliva is sliding down your chin, making you even messier than you thought you were.
“Let me put it to use, sir.” – you whisper, your voice broken due to the pleasure – “Please. Let me show you how perfect my mouth is for you. I need it.”
“Then take it, pretty girl.”
You don’t want to waste too much time, immediately getting closer to him and placing your left hand over his hips. Spencer grabs the base of his cock and brushes it over your bottom lip, forcing you to open your mouth. You just lay there on your knees, waiting and hoping he can just shove his cock down your throat so you can prove to him how useful you are in that position.
You just want to be good for him.
Hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, you feel his cock sliding deeper within your mouth. You force yourself to keep your eyes on his face the whole time, admiring the way his lips part in pleasure and a soft huff comes out of them. You swear you just heard your name through his gritted teeth, but your brain is too hazy right now. He probably just called you “whore”. You don’t care.
“Just like that, doll.”
His voice is rough and his chest is pulled tight from his arousal. His eyes are filled with adoration, admiration for your beauty while you’re on your knees for him, to please him, to be useful.
The praise makes you work harder, taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth. Your throat is completely relaxed as you blink the tears away, moaning softly when you see Spencer run his fingers through those luscious curls you’re dying to pull.
They’re so soft.
“Will you let me fuck your throat?”
You tap his thighs with both hands, giving Spencer the answer he craves.
And slowly, Spencer starts to thrust in and out of your mouth. His cock slips in and out rapidly, with your saliva dripping down your chin and onto your chest where the pendant is resting. The flushed skin of your breasts is now incandescent, slicked with sweat and spit.
You moan around Spencer’s length, your eyes almost closed due to the amount of pressure and pleasure spreading through your lower abdomen. You love giving him pleasure and you love even more the sounds he makes, along with the lewd noises coming from your mouth and his cock relentlessly entering and pushing down your throat.
You can do nothing, but loosen up your throat muscles as best as you can and open your jaw wider. His movements are quick, rapidly taking him to the edge of his peak – a peak he’s not ready to reach, because he has just begun.
You’ve been good enough for him now.
“You look so fucking good with my cock down your throat.” – Spencer whispers, running his fingers through your hair and tugging on them – “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have such an incredibly brave woman on her knees for me, willing to give me all of herself.”
More tears flow from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and painting your chest. You force yourself not to moan, to resist the urge to pull away and whisper to him how much you love him.
But Spencer has other plans.
He gently pulls out of your mouth, watching you gasp for air, and yanks you by the collar. The leather tightens around your throat as you get up from the floor, the sudden force making you dizzy.
Spencer holds you by the collar, leaning forward to press an eager kiss to your swollen lips. You moan at the contact, wishing the kiss could last for hours, but you know it won’t. Spencer needs more than just a kiss and you need whatever he craves right now. You feel like a doll in his hands, unable to think straight and only focused on his pleasure.
The leather is cutting into your skin as he yanks it again, forcing you to let out a strangled moan.
“Get on the bed, doll.”
Losing the grip on your collar, Spencer pushes you onto your back on the bed. The cold pendant on your collar touches your skin, sending a rush of adrenaline through your body.
“You look so pretty when you’re helpless.”
Your cheeks heaten at his compliment. “Thank you, sir.”
Spencer uses his hands to separate your knees, spreading your legs and admiring your naked body. You don’t know what he’s going to do: maybe he’s going to fuck you, maybe he’s going to reward you for being eager to please him, maybe he’s going to tease you until you can’t do nothing but whine, cry out his name and whisper begs and pleas.
Either way, you’re ready.
You’ve been ready since he talked to you in that sweet voice.
Spencer knows how much you love when his voice switches. The tone is always sweet, but it has something different in it – it’s not just the words he whispers, it’s the way he looks at you while he says them and how his whole body language changes.
It’s endearing to watch.
“You’re so wet and I barely touched you.” – Spencer says, sliding his index through your folds – “That’s so fucking hot.”
He’s not surprised and neither are you. He’s well aware of the effect of his voice and his actions on your body, and how you love to please him in every way possible.
“I’m going to take such good care of you, doll.”
You bite your bottom lip when you see Spencer kneeling over the bed, settling right between your legs with his lips peppering kisses up and down your left thigh. You close your eyes at the sweet contact, feeling your heart ready to jump out of your chest and your thighs already quivering under his touch.
“I know you will, sir.”
Spencer traces his finger up and down your heat, coating it in your own arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation and you release another soft moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back on the pillow. You can’t look at him, or you’ll come right now.
You grasp the bed sheets as Spencer slips his finger inside of you, immediately followed by a second and a third. You lose your train of thoughts as soon as you feel him curling his fingers, brushing that sweet spot he sees to find so easily while you struggle to even think about it.
“Ah, you take my fingers so well, doll.” – Spencer whispers, giving you another kiss on your thigh – “Am I making you feel good? Tell me, doll, am I doing what you crave?”
You can barely hear him through the sound of your blood rushing up to your chest and back down through your lower abdomen. The lewd sounds of his fingers slipping in and out of you are echoing in the room, silencing even the little moans coming out of your lips.
“Yes, sir. You’re m-making me feel s-so good.” – you manage to say, thrusting your hips forward – “It feels so g-good to be u-used.”
Spencer nibbles at your thigh, using his tongue to soothe the red mark. “Are you trying to fuck yourself onto my fingers, doll? I don’t think so.”
You immediately stop moving, obeying his words.
You hum with your eyes rolled in the back of your head, feeling the orgasm approaching rapidly. The delicious peak is right there, you can almost taste it on your tongue, but you know Spencer is not going to give up so easily. As much as he loves when you come, he knows today you need to controlled more than all the other days – and he has no intention of forgetting that.
Spencer stops thrusting his fingers inside of you, abruptly pulling them out and bringing them up to his lips. Licking all of your juices off his skin, you gasp at the sight and whine at the loss.
“You don’t get to come so easily, doll. I’ve just started.”
Spencer starts leaving more kisses from your belly up to your chest, ignoring your nipples and going back to your face. His lips immediately cover yours in a kiss and his tongue forces its way against your mouth, making you whine at the feeling. You can taste your own arousal on his tongue and that drives you wild.
You close your thighs around his waist, pushing your body against his so that he can’t escape. You don’t want him to pull away, you want him to stay pressed against you the whole night – if it’s necessary.
Spencer swallows your moans with more kisses, running his fingers up and down your thighs in a comforting motion.
You can feel his hard-on pressing against your inner thigh and you’re tempted to grind on it, showing him that you need something more than just his fingers or a few touches – but he’s in control of the moment, he knows what to do with you and you trust him.
Your fingers grip his curls when he tries to pull away, forcing him to kiss you a few more seconds.
“Did you miss my kisses, doll? Is that why you don’t want me to stop kissing you?”
You nod your head, pecking his lips once again. “Yes. I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about them the whole day.”
Spencer brings both his hands on your neck, brushing his thumbs on your jaw. “That’s so sweet, doll. But I have other plans for you now. I’ll kiss you for hours later, I promise you.”
You can’t whine right now, because you know he’d get annoyed.
He loves when you get too needy, but right now he has plans. And Spencer is not a fan of his plans getting ruined, no matter how much he loves kisses and making out with you on your shared bed.
Swallowing, you watch your boyfriend slide over the bed and back down between your legs where he was before. His hands pry your thighs open all over again and you run your fingers through his curls, simply watching him as he leaves more kisses on the soft skin of your inner thigh.
His hands run back up to your chest, squeezing your breasts. “Do you know what’s my favourite way to use when I want to ruin you?”
Oh, you know it.
It’s not difficult to imagine, since he already assumed the position. But it’s still fun when Spencer wants to force you to talk, knowing damn well that your brain is not lucid enough to make you process a coherent sentence.
You’re too aroused to think straight.
You smirk at his question, eager to answer. “Yes, sir.”
Spencer pinches your nipples. “Ah, you’re getting cocky because you know what I’m about to do.”
You let out a giggle when he kisses the soft skin below your belly button, dangerously close to where you want him the most right now. The sight forces you to look away as you feel your cheeks heating up.
“You’ve been so good for me today, so you deserve a treat.” – Spencer tells you, peppering your skin with more kisses – “Can you be loud for me, doll? I want to hear how good I’m about to make you feel.”
You don’t need to be told twice, quickly nodding your head. “Yes. Yes, sir.”
Of course you can be loud.
Of course you can scream out his name.
You know he loves when you’re vocal in bed – well, when he gives you permission to speak.
Spencer smirks at your reaction, squeezing your breasts before sliding his hands back down to your thighs. He spreads them a little better to have easier access to the most private part of you and presses another kiss right above your clit, making you squirm.
“That’s my doll.”
Spencer buries his face between your thighs, taking a long lick directly over your clit. A soft moan leaves your lips and echoes inside the bedroom, a sound that reminds him a lot of his name.
You pull his hair with your fingers, throwing your head back as he begins his torture with the tip of his tongue. Spencer licks, nibbles and sucks on your clit while using his fingers to push your thighs open – as they try to close around his head.
Your whole body is on fire as you buck your hips against his face, gasping when Spencer pushes two of his fingers deep inside of you. He knows where and how to touch you, he knows how to turn you into a mess of pants and moans.
It’s so fucking annoying.
And hot.
“C-Close.”
Spencer pulls away with his mouth, watching your glistening core as his fingers keep thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace.
“Come whenever you want, doll.”
You take advantage of his kindness today, because you’re not sure when he’ll be this kind again. You grip his curls even harder and you roll your hips against his face, moaning softly when he drags his tongue up and down your clit.
His fingers pick up the pace of their movements and you can feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You know you shouldn’t hold back because it’s pointless, but at the same time you want this pleasure to last forever.
Or until your body can take it.
Spencer gives your clit a few teasing swipes before inserting another finger inside of you, watching you widen your eyes and stare back down at him.
“Fuck, sir, I...”
“I told you, doll. You can come if you want.” – he whispers, his voice smooth and gentle – “I can feel how close you are.”
You bite your bottom lip, admiring how his eyes are filled with lust and desire. Spencer loves going down on you and he loves it even more making you come like this, fucking you with his fingers and his tongue just to see you crumble down.
Spencer wants you to lose the last ounce of control you have.
“I need your m-mouth.”
“As you wish, doll.”
Spencer brings his lips back on your clit, sucking on it as you lose the grip on his hair. You grasp the bed sheets as your back arches off the bed and you let out a desperate moan, whispering his name immediately after.
The pleasure stabs you over and over, pushing you closer to the edge of your peak until you finally reach it. Spencer doesn’t stop his relentless fingers from fucking you, picking up the pace even more and nursing your orgasm out of you.
He hums with his eyes closed, tasting you as he shakes, and gently prods your thighs open with his shoulders. You’re closing your legs as you try to get back down to Earth.
The orgasm hit you too hard.
“S-Sorry sir.”
Spencer pulls away to get some air, covering your thighs with kisses. “Don’t be sorry, doll. You taste so fucking good, do you know that?”
You give him a tired smile, chuckling. “I think you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.”
“It’s nice to have a reminder of that.” – he says, playfully smacking your thighs exactly where he left one last kiss – “I’m not done with you.”
“Oh?”
He shakes his head, running his tongue up to your clit again. “Oh, no. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had the pleasure to taste you?”
You bite your bottom lip, catching your breath. “Well, it’s not my fault we haven’t had sex in three weeks. Blame your job.”
“Exactly, so I’m going to make up for all the time we’ve lost.” – he announces with a smirk, licking your clit again – “And all the orgasms I haven’t given you.”
Without giving you the time to react, Spencer closes his lips around your clit and sucks on it harshly. You let out a yelp with your hands immediately flying over to his head, gripping his curls and tugging on them.
“Fuck!”
Whining pathetically, you feel a stinging pain from between your legs. It doesn’t really hurt, you know it’s because Spencer is back to eating you out after such a destructive orgasm, but you don’t want him to stop.
His tongue is too perfect pressed against you.
And the sounds he’s making, those hums and those moans signalling his appreciation for you and your body, are driving you fucking crazy. And they’re helping you forget the slight pain already dissolving.
He knows your body better than you, in this situation.
If Spencer says you can take it, you know you can.
He has tested your limits before, obviously.
“Fuck, sir, you’re so good at this.” – you manage to say, knowing that he likes being praised for this – “Your tongue is so fucking perfect.”
Spencer’s face softens at your words while his tongue doesn’t seem to stop his relentless movements, swiping over your clit and swirling around it. You can feel his fingers prodding at your entrance again, eager to thrust back into you, but he doesn’t – because you’re already close to your second orgasm.
The first one is always the most difficult for you, but then it’s too easy.
Spencer loves that about you.
There are days where you are not able to come, but there are also days where you can’t stop coming. And today is one of them, probably because of the collar tightening around your throat when his fingers tug on your pendant and its significance.
“M-More, please, s-sir.”
Spencer lowers his head just enough to push his tongue inside of you. You push a hand behind his head, forcing him to bury his own face between your thighs, and you release a long moan. You know you’re about to come and Spencer seems to notice that, because he picks up the pace of his tongue.
Fucking you rapidly, he swipes his thumb over your clit one, two, many times.
His stubble is scratching against the soft skin of your inner thigh, his tongue is pressed against your head and you can feel your muscles clenching around him. The desire is peaking inside of you as your eyes roll in the back of your head.
“Oh, fuck... I’m...”
Spencer hums with his eyes closed, lost in the delicious taste of your arousal and in how your body is convulsing underneath his touch. He can feel your nipples hardening under his fingers, your tummy clenching each time you bounce against his mouth and your juices coating his chin.
If he opens his eyes to take a good look at you, he’ll probably come untouched.
He can’t have that, he wants to come inside of you.
However, he loves when things get messy such as right now. Everything is dirty and so, so naughty.
“What, doll? I don’t hear you.” – Spencer mumbles, pulling away from your heat and replacing his tongue with his three fingers – “Is my doll too dumb to speak? Did you forget how to talk because my mouth and my fingers are fucking you a little too good?”
He strokes your walls with the tip of his fingers, pressing them against the soft indentation inside of you. You let out a loud scream, beginning to grind against his fingers when you feel him touching that sweet spot inside of you.
You don’t understand how a man like him decided to bless you this way, but you’re grateful. Your whole body is telling him that and proving that he’s the only one who’s able to do this to you, the only person who can see you for who you truly are.
Nothing, but a brainless doll begging to be used like this.
The second orgasm hits you rapidly after Spencer curls his fingers and keeps them pressed against that same spot, watching your whole body convulse and your eyes rolling in the back of your head.
You’ve never been so aroused before, so out of your mind and under his control.
Spencer doesn’t stop, though.
“Everything happens in threes, doll.” – he tells you, pulling his fingers out of you – “I think you can give me another one, can’t you?”
You can’t speak, so you nod your head as best as you can. Your cheeks are stained with tears, your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath, your fingers are still gripping the bed sheet and your forehead is covered in sweat.
Just two orgasms and you’re already out?
No, that’s not fair.
Spencer deserves better, so you have to show him that you’re better. That you can take as many orgasms as he’s willing to give you, because he’s good – and because you’re good, you’re his good girl.
He needs to know.
“I can t-take it.”
“I know you can, doll.”
Spencer thrusts his fingers inside of you again, feeling your velvety walls clenching hard around him. He knows you want to prove to him you’re a good girl, he knows you’re not going to stop giving yourself to him until you can’t take it anymore. You just want to be his mindless little doll.
“You’re so pretty when you’re needy.” – Spencer whispers, enraptured by the way your body jerks forward when he curls his fingers – “I love when you fall apart for me, it drives me crazy.”
His head dips low to lap at your slick folds, his lips capturing your clit and sucking gently on it. You release another frustrated moan, feeling your thighs squirming around his head as he pushes them wide open. You know you’re already close, you can feel the tension building rapidly within your lower abdomen.
“That’s my good girl.”
You whine at his words, rolling your hips against his mouth. Spencer pushes a third finger inside of you and quickly curls it, watching your body shudder at the sensation and more juices coating his hand.
“Are you going to come for me again, doll? Is that what you want right now?”
All you can do is nod your head again and follow his movements with your hips, grinding on his fingers and crying out his name in pleasure. All of your problems have been washed away, all of your worries have disappeared from your brain, replaced by the intense pleasure he’s giving you – and the pleasure you’re giving him by completely surrendering yourself to him.
Words are lost in your throat as more moans flow out.
Spencer kisses your clit once again and picks up the pace of his fingers, until he can finally feel your body tense up for the third time in a row. You gasp his name and allow yourself to get washed away by that pleasure, your whole body tingling with desire.
“Yes! Yes, sir, fuck!”
He doesn’t stop, thrusting his fingers in and out to nurse a third orgasm out of you. Your heart is throbbing in your chest, your brain is hazy and your legs are quivering around his cheeks. His name falls out from your lips in curses as he kisses the soft skin on your inner thing, watching you come undone because of him.
Satisfied with the sight, Spencer pulls out his fingers and immediately brings them up to his mouth.
You stare at him, wide-eyed and breathless.
Spencer looks delicious, with his forehead beaded in sweat and his eyes staring into yours. His plump lips are wrapped around his fingers as your taste fills his senses, making him drool at the thought of having you again and watching you come undone for a fourth time.
Your collar is what drives him even wilder.
Knowing that you gave yourself up to him, worshipping and showing him that you’re his, is an incredible sensation.
“You did so good, doll. I’m proud of you.” – Spencer whispers, leaving kisses from your belly up to your chest – “I’m so lucky to have such an incredible woman underneath me.”
You wrap your tired arms around his neck, pulling him down to your lips. “I love you so much.”
You can feel his hard cock pressing to the inside of your inner thigh, reminding you that he hasn’t reached his peak yet. You want him to, he deserves to take what’s rightfully his – and you need to feel him inside of you.
Spencer slides a finger underneath your collar, tugging on it. “Do you want to stop?”
You shake your head, sliding your hands on his shoulders. “No. I want...”
“I’ll do anything you want me to do to you, but you have to say it out loud.”
Chuckling, you look away as you feel your cheeks heating up. “You know what I want. You know my body best.”
He hums, leaving a kiss below your earlobe. “I don’t care, doll. I want to hear your words.”
You tap his chest with your right hand, sighing softly as he kisses your neck again. His lips are gentle against your skin, leaving a trail of saliva up to your mouth before he kisses you eagerly. You run your fingers through his curls, pushing your body up to melt against his, and you roll your hips.
You know exactly what you want right now.
“Make love to me.”
“Gladly.”
Spencer closes the distance between you two, kissing your lips as if his life depends on it and finally taking what’s his rightful place. Pushing himself inside of you and forcing you to take every inch of him, you feel your body adjusting to his size.
You close your eyes to focus on the sensation of him flooding your insides, rolling his hips against yours and giving you that friction you craved. No matter how sensitive you are right now, you know you can take him – you can take another orgasm, if it means to finally put an end to his and your misery.
Spencer tugs on your collar again, making you gasp. “Keep your eyes open, doll. Look at me while I own you.”
You struggle to obey, staring into his amber-coloured eyes as a satisfied hum crashes onto your lips. Spencer looks so beautiful right now, on top of you watching you as you part your lips and allow the pleasure to take control over you once again. Spence moves his hips in a rolling motion, slow just like you silently asked for.
“That’s my good girl.”
You can feel the pressure of his thrusts bringing you closer to the edge again. His eyes never leave yours, a desire sparkling inside of them and increasing the love you feel for him each second.
“Deeper, sir.”
Spencer obeys without hesitation, pinning your body to the mattress with his hands on yours. His fingers entangle with yours as you roll your hips, feeling him push into you even harder than before – you can barely catch your breath, suffocated by the desire flooding your insides for him and the intense pleasure almost overwhelming you.
This is what you wanted.
This is what it means to be owned, to feel owned.
“Who do you belong to, doll?”
“You.”
Spencer smirks at your quick answer, giving you a peck on your lips. “Say it louder.”
You whine, knowing exactly what he's doing. Making you talk while you’re focused on his pleasure – and yours – is mean, it’s not fair. But he has to do this, he has to make you earn your fourth orgasm or he’s never going to let you have it.
You need it.
You move your right hand away from his, pulling on your own collar. “Y-Yours, sir. Always h-have, always w-will.”
Spencer gives in to the sight of you touching your own collar, showing him that no matter what he’s doing to you – like forcing you to hold back from an orgasm to focus on something else – you’re always his, because you were made for this.
You were made for him.
“That’s right, doll. You’re mine. Forever.”
Spencer replaces your hand with his on your collar, tugging on it as you gasp for air. The sudden gesture of his fingers pushes you to the edge before you could even think of stopping.
Your fourth orgasm takes over you as you cry out your boyfriend’s name, falling into that deep end you were craving since you stepped inside of his bedroom. Spencer doesn’t stop his torture though, guiding himself in and out of you at a quick pace to help you ride your orgasm.
Your chest is flushed, your lips are quivering and soft moans are flowing out of them.
Sounds that remind him of his own name.
“There you go, doll. It feels good, huh?”
You frantically nod, scratching his shoulder with your free arm before bringing your hand on his cheek. You whisper how much you love him, how thankful you are to have him, how happy he makes you and how good he always makes you feel – and that seems to be enough for him, because his pace becomes uneven, quick, irregular.
Spencer leans over to kiss your mouth, fucking into you just as frantically as you roll your hips against his. You don’t know if you can take another orgasm, but it doesn’t matter – all Spencer wants is to make you feel good.
He’s succeeding.
“Come for me, sir.” – you mumble on his lips, eager to feel him spill inside of you – “Don’t pull out. Please, sir, give it to me.”
Spencer growls against your mouth, rocking his hips even harder than before. His eyes close, but you bring both your hands on his face and touch his cheeks. He’s holding back, he doesn’t want to let go so easily, but you need to feel him.
“Finish inside of me, sir. Please.”
You can feel the bed shaking as hard as your thighs around his waist, but you don’t want him to stop. You want this to hurt, you want him to use you even though he’s making love to you, he has to know that your body belongs to him, that this moment is never going to end because you’ll always be there to serve him.
“Please, sir, come inside of me. Make me yours.”
Spencer gasps on your mouth at your requests, kissing you harshly as his tongue slips towards yours. You moan into his mouth, clenching hard around him and making him moan even louder than before – he loves when you do this.
And finally he comes, calling out your name and kissing you with such passion that leaves you breathless. The way he’s holding onto you and your collar, how his body presses into yours and marks you so deeply with his pleasure. Everything is so overwhelming, you can barely think straight.
You can’t get enough of this.
Spencer doesn’t stop kissing you, slowing his movements down until he’s fixed. You close your arms around his neck and kiss him with even more urgency, finally allowing the intense love you feel for him to fill the room and your brain.
Your body is exhausted, but you’d do it all over again if he asked you to.
“Thank you, Spencer. Thank you.” – you mumble on his lips, running your fingers through his curls – “You did so good. You were incredible.”
He doesn’t say anything, cuddling on top of you with his face hidden in the crook of your neck. The leather touches his lips as they twitch into a smile, knowing that the collar is still there and he hasn’t dreamed any of this.
You’re finally wearing it.
You took that one last difficult step.
This means everything to you and the way he’s clinging to you right now, tells you all about it.
“Thank you for being so good for me, doll.” – Spencer says, looking up at you but not rolling off your body – “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering that pretty mind of yours? If you’re comfortable.”
You go silent, caressing his curls and watching him leave a trail of kisses down your chest. There’s nothing sexual in his gesture, he always does it when he wants to make you comfortable – and you are. You’re always comfortable with him because he always makes you feel safe, loved, desired.
Sex is a good distraction, but it doesn’t make your problems vanish forever.
Even while basking in the afterglow of such an intense session of love-making, Spencer wants you to open up to him and explain why you behaved that way. He doesn’t complain about you begging for sex in such a moment, because it lead to him giving you his most precious possession, but that doesn’t make your problems go away.
He wants to help as best as he can, either with sex or words.
“I just had a bad day.”
“Tell me about it, my love.” – Spencer says, rolling off your body – “Come here and tell me everything.”
You obey once again, spitting out everything that has happened to you ever since this morning. You don’t hold back even while tears are streaming down your face, you don’t hold back even while Spencer kisses them away, you don’t hold back even when he frowns and caresses your hair.
So you keep talking and talking, until you feel better.
Until your heart feels lighter.
And when it does, you realise that it was just a bad day.
That Spencer is still there for you, that you’re still in one piece, that the bad beginning of a day doesn’t always mean the whole day will suck – because this day has become filled with beautiful surprises.
Surprises that made you forget how you felt this morning.
“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise, my love. It’s just a bad day, it’s going to pass and it’ll make you stronger than yesterday.” – Spencer kisses your temple, closing his eyes – “I’m proud of you for talking to me about it.”
You look up at him, placing your hand on his chest. “The beginning of this day sucked, but not the rest of it.”
“Oh, is that so?”
You hum, nodding in agreement. “You made it better by giving me this.”
Touching your collar, you look at Spencer and he blushes. Seeing you so happy with your collar hugging your neck is such a beautiful sight – you can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, which is why you lean down to press a kiss right below it.
“It was the right time to give it to you, my love.”
“Thank you, Spencer. I know how much this means to you.” – you say, grabbing both his hands and bringing them up to your neck – “Thank you.”
Pulling you down, Spencer kisses you again. “Thank you for being mine.”
for a kissing prompt im begging you to do 48. one person has to bend down to kiss the other person who is standing on their tiptoes with fem reader as i am dismally short
Pay More Attention
Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUfem!Reader
Category: Fluff
TW: Spencer being self-deprecating, mentions of anxiety, germaphobia, and cursing
I just really loved this concept when I came up with it and I hope you like it too! I did change up your request a little to try and make the reader more non-descript in terms of appearance, but I think it worked. Love you xx
It wasn’t hard to avoid her, or, rather, he decided it wasn’t hard because, as with many things in his life, Spencer felt his awkwardness made it necessary. With people like her , anyway. With people that, sometimes - occasionally - took his breath away. So he started to keep bits of his personality to himself.
There were some things that were hard to keep to himself, like his dislike of touch. If anything, it seemed as though JJ and Hotch had informed her about it in her interview. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if it was something she’d picked up on her own. She happens to be a rather brilliant profiler in her own right, so her picking up on his slight germaphobia doesn’t shock him at all. It’s rather unfortunate that she’s so brilliant, really. It makes it even harder for Spencer to ignore his crush on her.
And, of course, he views ignoring it as a necessity because he doesn’t have a chance in hell with her. She practically glows through cases, offering up little brilliant ideas, being kind and caring to not only the victims and their families, but to the rest of the team as well. It’s sort of stupidly easy to fall in love with her.
But he tries - tries so very, very hard - to not be too much himself. He doesn’t want her to think he’s too annoying, too pedantic, too...too...too him. So he quietly sits on the fringes, has done ever since she joined the team. When he has ideas, he shares them softly, but he doesn’t offer up facts as easily as he used to, not unless asked. And, even then, he’ll write them down and pass them to Derek or Emily or Hotch, hoping it’ll support their findings in some way or give them a moment to shine in the case. But he practically refuses to share facts with her. If the team weren’t so hyper aware of human behavior, they could almost believe that he dislikes her, but, instead - and rather embarrassingly for Spencer - they’re all incredibly aware of his crush on her.
Which is why Derek hardly bats an eyelash when Spencer stands idly in front of the desk he’s commandeered at the precinct their at this week.
“What’s up, Pretty Boy?”
“Um,” Spencer fumbles, shifting his weight between his feet. “Um, the wiregrass remnants found in the victims car?”
“Yeah?” Derek replies, leaning back and looking up at Spencer, trying not to smirk at how nervous Spencer looks.
“Could you let Y/N know that that type of grass is most commonly found in the Louisiana bayou?”
“Sure I can,” Derek agrees, still fighting a smirk.
“Thanks,” Spencer mumbles quietly, turning around to walk back to the geographic profile on the board across the precinct.
“Or,” Derek’s voice stops him, “you could tell her.”
“Oh, uh-” Spencer stops walking, but doesn’t turn back around fully, speaking back over his shoulder, brushing a fictional bit of lint from his shoulder. “I think she’d prefer to hear it from-”
“I’m not in the habit,” Derek teases, “of assuming what women’s preferences are. But, I happen to know that Y/N would prefer that you tell her this bit of information.”
“Derek,” Spencer almost whines, turning around, “I can’t-”
“She’s gonna know it’s from you anyway, Pretty Boy,” Derek assures him, but Spencer surprises him, crossing back to the desk and leaning against it, his hands on either end.
“But if I don’t deliver it than she won’t know...she won’t know that I-”
“That you what, Reid?” Derek asks.
“That I’m...that I’m me,” Spencer admits softly. “That I’m too much...that I’m too nerdy...that I’m too awkward...I just...”
“Reid,” Derek breathes softly, standing up and pulling Spencer to stand straight, resting his hands on Spencer’s shoulders in a paternal manner. “There’s nothing wrong with being you. I wish you’d see that-”
“It’s...I’m...” Spencer trails off, “I just worry that I’m not good enough for her.”
Derek opens his mouth to retort, but is cut off by Hotch interrupting them with another break in the case. Spencer shrugs off Derek’s hold on his shoulders and returns to the geographical profile, avoiding Y/N’s gaze.
~~~
“Thank you,” Y/N says as Spencer enters the precinct. Hotch and Derek are interrogating the unsub - a Louisiana native, as Spencer had suspected.
“What did you...how?” Spencer asks in astonishment.
“I’m surprised that a genius like you hasn’t noticed how much I pay attention to you,” she teases sweetly, stepping slightly closer to the confused doctor.
“I...you...you pay attention to me?” Spencer questions, his voice almost flat, too astonished for anything else as he attempts to comprehend what she’s saying.
“Yes,” she nearly whispers, stepping right up to him. “Shall I tell you what I’ve noticed?”
“Um...s-sure,” Spencer squeaks. He’s nervous, but as she meets his eyes and smiles, warmth slowly erupts in his chest and he can feel a smile toying it’s way onto his mouth.
“You, Dr. Reid, are an absolutely brilliant human being,” she states, “but, you have an unfortunate habit of overlooking your own greatness.”
“I-” Spencer attempts to cut her off, but Y/N reaches up and gently presses her finger to his lips. As though he’s ready for it, he doesn’t recoil at her touch, but almost leans into it. He leans more into it as she removes her finger from his lips and wraps her arms tentatively around his shoulders, waiting for his permission. Permission Spencer gives wordlessly as he wraps his arms around her waist.
“How on earth did you think I’d miss your genius facts? I was always hoping you’d have one for me,” she beams up at him, tipping onto her toes.
For the first time in his life, Spencer knows exactly what his cue is, craning his neck ever so slightly to meet her lips. A breath away from her lips, he whispers, “I guess I just needed to pay more attention.”
~~~
Feel free to send me more kissing prompts from this list! xx
And I’ll Do Anything That You Say (If You Say It With Your Hands) (+18)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut-- emotional sex, dirty talk, unprotective sex, oral (female receiving), use of good girl. Angst with a Happy Ending, an unhealthy amount of Taylor Swift references, post Maeve
Summary: Spencer and Reader are forced to share a room, but can't resist falling into old patterns, even though it's dangerous and just might break them.
Category: Angsty Smut with a Happy Ending (NO MINORS)
Word Count: 6.4 K
Cards Chosen: Library (Season 10), Revolver (Requited/Unrequited Love), Hotch (One Is Never Enough)
Author's Note: Nat!! OMG!! Words really don't do you justice. You are an amazing person through and through. I love interacting with you on here. You make my day so much better. Love you to the moon and to Saturn forever and always @reidslibrarybook. And a very big thank you to @sleepyspencer & @spencerslibrary for being a beautiful betas <3
And I’ll Do Anything That You Say (If You Say It With Your Hands)
You couldn’t be anything but enamored with him. Even though you shouldn’t be anymore.
Enchanted by his integrity, the way he always does the right thing. Captivated by his soft brown eyes, you never thought that eyes could be kind before you met Spencer. Swept away by his intelligence, how just being around him made you feel smarter than you could ever dream.
You don’t dream of him whispering sweet promises in your ear or holding hands in the grocery line. You don’t dream of making the miserable magical, you can only think of the heartbreak, the pain, the annihilation that he would scar you. If you let yourself slip, if you let him carry you away on a white horse, you’d never come back the same.
So, as long as you don’t cross that invisible line, you’re in the clear. You’ll love him from afar. From a distance where you can’t get hurt. But, in the same token, is loving him from afar loving him at all?
All that separates you is the floor between your two beds. Maybe if you concentrate you’d be able to hear his breathing. You know you can’t sleep and neither can Spencer. His ghostly form, covered in the cheap motel sheets doesn’t move, but you’ve slept in enough motels with him only ten feet away to know when he’s not sleeping.
“Spence,” you whisper, hushed tones in the dark.
“Y/N,” he whispers back. You shouldn’t like the way your name sounds on his lips, how inviting and warm and natural it sounds coming from him.
“I can’t sleep,” you say, your hollow, tired voice echoing in the motel room. Spencer’s bed creaks as he turns to face you. The moonlight dips into the room, making his face glow. His eyes, trained on you, are a blaze of fire, “I can never sleep without…”
“Neither can I,” he finishes, knowing all too well what you were going to say because he feels it too.
The silence in the motel room has never been so loud. You lay on your respective beds, just ten feet apart. Neither of you dare to be the first to make the move, even though you desperately want to. Scratch that, need too.
You’ll betray yourself millions of times if it means he’ll hold you like he could love you one. For now, you’ll cling to the possibility, even if it makes you a traitor, even if it will, one day, be your downfall. All because the falling is too good to resist. Spencer Reid, and his warm brown eyes and his soft smile and sweet dispositions, will be your downfall.
Surprisingly, Spencer is the one to get out of bed. For a second, you let yourself think that he’s pulled to you just as you are pulled to him. He turns down the covers, slipping into the cool sheets. Spencer’s hair is messy from nearly two hours of tossing and turning before you both give into the rush of being close. You like it like that. It looks like you’ve run your hands through it. You love feeling his soft curls in the palm of your hand and wish it wouldn’t kill you to feel it again.
“How long have you not been sleeping?” you whisper, involuntarily opening your arms for Spencer to fold himself into. His face is inches from yours, laying there on the same pillow. You have to keep the distance between you two. You can lay here as long as your lips don’t touch. As long as there’s that uncharted territory you don’t succumb to.
“A really long time,” he answers, the no man’s land between your lips and Spencer’s lips growing shorter and shorter and you breath in and out.
“Ever since that night,” Spencer clarifies, his arms pulling you close so your front is flush against his. You’re reminded of that night when you slept alone in the cold bed feeling empty and hollow. The nights, as it turned out, were the hardest to get over. In a strange way, you are comforted by knowing that Spencer missed you in the same way that you missed him. How you missed falling asleep to the steady sound of his breathing, how you craved the weight of his arms, and how you longed to wake up to his head buried in your neck.
“Me too,” you reveal, feeling like you’re spilling your darkest secrets to the one person who you shouldn’t be, “I miss you. I miss us,”
You should be wary, wary of the haunted, desired look he gives you. You shouldn’t let yourself get lost in the daydream and the promise of a sequel. It would be smart to turn away, to run away from the hungry desire that gnaws at your heart. But he’s quicksand, one look and he’s swallowing you whole. One look and you can see yourself so clearly twisted in bedsheets.
“I never stopped missing you,” he whispers, his hands moving from your upper half to ghost up your arms. His thumb, the calloused skin rough, brushes your hair out of your eyes, “I’ll always love you, even if it kills me,”
“Love shouldn’t hurt,” you tell him, speaking to yourself more than to Spencer. You both need to hear it again and again until the world loses all semblances of meaning. You’ll say it so often until it becomes a watered down, diluted mixture of sounds and syllables. Meaningless and empty.
Someone so beautiful shouldn’t be this dangerous.
“Not being able to love you hurts more than loving you,” Spencer says. You close your eyes as his thumb grazes your eyelids. You hold your breath, but you can still smell his ivory soap and peppermint shampoo. You close your eyes, but you can still see him smiling in your mind’s eye. You try to resist, but you give in, knowing he’ll forever be the one you want.
There’s a time for words. Not now though, now is for doing. Now is for reaching out across No Man’s Land even though it’s reckless and dangerous. Now is for looking danger in the eye and trudging forward even though you’ll end up scarred. You can’t decide if getting swept away is a choice, but the sound of his voice ricochets around the room. You cling to the hope that the spark hasn’t died out yet. And that passion and love and desire are strong enough to keep it aflame for even one more night.
Spencer’s hand puts the tiniest bit of pressure against the back of your head. He’s letting you decide if this is what you actually want or if you are both letting yourselves get swept up in the intensity of being so close after holding each other at arm's length for so long. It’s the kind of love that’s stubborn like grease on a stovetop. No amount of friction could keep you away from him.
You’re kissing him again. Kissing the man you never imagined you would have a last kiss with. Kissing Spencer again after the eight month drought is picking up where you left off. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, tugging as he kisses away the numb tingle. You sigh into his embrace, feeling for the first time in a very long time completely at peace. You fall back into the familiar rhythm. Just two souls searching for something to fill their empty hearts.
You wonder that, when this ends, if it ends, will you be left with the saccharine artificial taste of regret? Will your heart still ache for him even though his kisses fade and the sweet nothings whispered where as paper thin? Despite it all, despite every fiber in your being screaming at you to stop while you are at it, you don’t.
You kiss him back with enough fervor and intensity to match him. Grabbing at the bottom of his thermal sleeping shirt, you pull it up over his head, making a mess of his perpetually messy hair. He’s agreeable, letting you peel off his shirt. He turns on the mattress so his arms hover over you like a protective shield. Together, you form a delicate bubble. It’s so fragile that you know any sudden movement will pop it. Sending the once strong shield to the ground. But in the bubble, your defenses are down. All you are is skin and bone, fated to fall apart.
“Oh, god,” Spencer groans, his hands sliding down to your shirt, “I fucking missed this,” he curses, his lips, soft and pliant move across yours as he talks. You can taste his minty toothpaste, how sweet and cool it is. It’s familiar in an eerie way. You’re reminded just how easy it is to fall into old habits.
His hands, as the claw at the hem of your shirt, are cold against your skin. Spencer’s hands are always freezing, you remember warming them up in between him back when touching him was as natural as breathing. It still is, but at what cost.
“Spence,” you cry out, begging him with just his name to do something, anything. You rest on your elbows, letting him take your shirt off so you’re both left in only bottoms, “Spencer,” you plead, chasing the minty sweetness from his lips. Panting, you lean back against the headboard, hoping that the walls aren’t as thin as other cheap motels.
The moonlight drips in from the slits in the blinds. You let out bated breath, internally trying to calm yourself down as Spencer’s hands graze up your arm till he reaches your face. He holds your face in his palm as gently as he did all those year ago. You stare at each other, eye to eye. And even though he’s so close, his face, his unfortunately beautiful face, grows out of focus. You’re sure it’s because you’re dizzy from the anticipation of having him again.
“Shhh,” Spencer says, his voice wavering as he whispers, “I still think about you,”
And with that, Spencer’s fingers leave your chin, tingling down as he drags them down your chest. His touch brings forth everything pleasurable in this world. You’re back to the old games again; the games that left you empty and alone. But there’s that little voice in your head telling you Spencer’s worth it.
The voice, however, goes silent as his nimble hands drag down your pajama pants. His eyes, always so kind and shy, meet yours as he continues to undress you. You aren’t a reckless person. You don’t do silly things that you’ll regret in the morning. You’re a don’t-drink-on-Sundays kind of person.
And yet, you knot your hands in Spencer’s hair, satisfied with yourself when he moans as you tug. The one thing that’s good about hooking up with your ex, is knowing what he likes. You bottoms bunch at your feet so you kick them off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Spencer, who’s grown quiet, places his hands on your hips, letting his cold hands rest against your flushed skin.
His fingers brush over your underwear that grows damp at his steady attention and tiny touches. Spencer’s hand, wrapping around your upper thigh, holds you still as he toys with you. You close your eyes, breathing in shakily, and let the pleasure from Spencer’s knowing fingers engulf your body. He presses kisses into the soft skin of your thighs. You aren’t sure if his kisses are new promises or old apologies. Do they mean something or is he just doing this because he knows you like it?
Oh how you wish it could be different. But it has to be this way. There’s nothing you can do about it. He’s your Achilles Heel. You’re fated to love him forever, he’s fated to love someone else. So much for the fall, for the rush of being someone’s someone.
“Still so responsive,” Spencer remarks, his fingers dancing across your hips. Sometimes you envied his memory. You were jealous that he could remember all the good times you made together. You wish you could commit the way his eyebrows knit together when he concentrates or his zealous excitement at sharing the world’s secrets with you. There was nothing sweeter than being his, “Just like I remember,”
“Spencer.” All you can manage is his name, but you say it like a prayer. You cling to the sounds of his name. Hold on to the syllables that form his name. You thread your fingers through his hair, marveling at the sight before you.
He pulls down your underwear, tugging at the elastic waistband. You’re bare to him, completely naked compared to his pajama bottoms. Spencer takes his time, his fingers darting back up your legs and his eyes lowering past your chest and stomach. His lips lower to your stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses all the way down. His breathing has gone labored. Maybe he’s anticipating it as well; wanting to hold back for so long because he knows it will be over much sooner than he’d like. You cling on to the hopeful thinking, wanting to be a beautiful fool over a wise soothsayer.
“You really are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Spencer whispers, saying exactly the words you always wanted him to hear. He says the words that you don’t want to hear from anyone else. Together, you’ve seen colors that no one else can see. He’s taken you to places that you’ll never dare to venture alone. And now, gone are the romantic picnics and fancy hotels. You’ve traded them in for longing looks and scratchy sheets.
He lowers his lips to your inner thighs. Spencer’s wild curls tickle your sensitive skin. It’s not the time for laughter, so you hold it in as it threatens to slip from your lips. Spencer nips at your skin, leaving marks there when you wake. The marks on your skin may fade, but he’s mark on your heart is etched into your soul. He’ll take the leftovers, store them in his pocket. He’s taken a piece of you and left the rest to heal and grow without him to watch.
“Holy fuck,” you plead, remembering just how good at this he is, “Spencer, fuck. Please,” you whimper, tugging on his hair to give him a sign to continue. You try to control your voice, knowing very well that a teammate could be next door, “I need it,” you whine, covering your face with your arm. You’re vulnerable like this, letting yourself get swept up in pleasure at Spencer’s hands. It was also a dangerous game with him, yet it’s something you’ve both loved at one point or another.
You have to stop talking before those three little words slip out. Those words, the only words that should be off limits, are the ones you want to say. Heartbeats in Morse Code, kisses in Sign Language, and touches in Braille. You can still translate it, even after all the time that’s past. You know you’ll always be able to read the language of Spencer’s kisses because at one point you would have sworn they were for you to decipher.
He dips a finger in, his hands holding you still, not letting you move from his grasp. Spencer brings his glistening finger to his mouth, letting his calloused fingertip brush against his plump lips. You always loved kissing his lips, biting them and watching him squirm at the sensation. He moans as he sucks on his finger, turned on by the memories of you as he tastes you on his finger. Spurred on by his pleasure, you grip his hair, tugging on his curls as he brings his mouth to your bare inner thighs.
“You always tasted like Heaven,” Spencer whispers, his lips hitting the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he speaks.
“That’s scientifically impossible,” you reply, pushing his messy hair from his forehead. He might say you taste like Heaven but where he brings you in nothing but sin, “You should know that Doctor Reid,” you add, daring to poke him. But you taste like Heaven to him and look like sin so you should be able to get away with it unscathed.
“Watch it,” Spencer mumbles, kissing your legs as his fingers rub slow circles around your clit. You bite your lip, holding in the reactions to his ministrations. You feel yourself grow more and more wet as Spencer continues to pay attention to you, “I’ve got you,” he assures, as his talented fingers continue to untie your sanity. You never imagined you’d be doing this again with Spencer. Not after the burning red heartbreak he put you through.
His other hand crawls up your torso and his nimble fingers latch on to your nipple. His cold hands send shockwaves of pleasure, making you arch your back in response. As you do, Spencer takes the opportunity to hoist himself up so your faces are inches apart. Your lips are so close that it could be considered kissing. You miss kissing him; you miss feeling his heartbeat against your chest and his cold hands tightly holding you face as he practically devours you. If there’s one thing you can confidently say about Spencer, it’s that he gives everything his all. And kiss is no expectation.
So when his face eclipses the little moonlight the drips in between the slots from the blinds, you know that he will be your downfall. You knew he was trouble from the moment you saw him shooting off that film canister in the bullpen. Yet, all those kisses since then could not have prepared you for how Spencer’s hands grip the side of your face. He used to hold you like if he was too forceful you’d shatter. But now, he holds you so tightly as if you’d fall apart without the glue of his grip keeping you together. You figure that he’s already broken you once. Shattered you into fractured pieces of memories and promises. So if he doesn’t hold you tight enough you’ll break again into those millions of pieces.
He kisses you with the intensity that he should have fought for your heart with. Your hearing is impeded by his hands covering your ears, so all you can hear is the warbled tones of Spencer’s groans and your whimpers as his lips glide over yours. His breath is hot against yours. The minty taste of the toothpaste and his unyielding lips leave you stunned. Spencer, despite his cool and collected reserve, isn’t as impenetrable as he thinks. Just as he knows what makes you tick, you know what makes him tick.
His body covers yours and his lips bite yours swollen and puffy. Your hands travel from his back, leaving scratches in your wake to his hair. You tug and pull his hair, encouraging him to kiss you deeper, rougher, hungrier.
“I want to taste you again,” Spencer says, his voice haunty with self satisfaction as his eyes run down your front looking at the marks left from his affections, “I need to,” he says, the pleading sparking something about your being. You give in to him, letting go of his hair and watching as he kisses down your torso and legs.
“Sit on my face,” Spencer says, the words tumbling from his lips before he can shy away from what he truly wants, “Please,” he adds, the tone of pleading back in his voice. Tapping his cheek sarcastically, you think you just might give into him.
He’s made you crumble tonight, why not watch him fall too.
Spencer scoots up on the bed, giving you the space to move so you’re straddling his waist. Encouraged by his prematurely blissed out expression, you grind down on his erection, satisfied with the disgruntled moans of pleasure that he lets out. His hands cling to your waist, holding you still from your movements. Spencer’s eyes, darting around in the dark hotel room, look for yours.
“You better stop, if you want to continue,” he warns, loosening his grip on your waist in a sign to get you closer to his face.
“Yes, sir,” you tease, poking fun at the way he’s writing under your touch with the title. He smirks, proud of himself, despite the inevitable burn that will come tomorrow.
With either of your thighs on the side of his head, you lower yourself to his waiting mouth. Spencer’s tongue presses up against your folds, daring to break through as he eagerly starts kissing your skin. Gripping his hair, you’ve given yourself permission to let go. You’ve allowed yourself, for the night, to give into the temptation that Spencer is.
He teases, darting his tongue around your entrance. You can feel his smile grow as you squirm above him. Gripping on to his hair, you use him as a handle, much to his pleasure your tugs grow rougher and rougher. He matches your grip with his hands. They dig into the soft skin of your upper thighs. No doubt there will be bruises left on your skin to remember him by. Yet again, all you’re left with is bruises and marks fated to fade. Bruises and kisses can only linger for so long.
Spencer’s pleasure, evident by his wild moans and quicker licks, grows rapidly. You reach back and slip your hand under the waistband of his pants. He groans into your skin, his hot breath vibrating through you stimulating and tickling your clit. He continues to lick, focused intently on driving you wild. You drag your thumb up his tip, watching the way his veiny hands grip at your thighs.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Spence,” you cry out, running your hand up and down his cock lazyily as he grows more and more frantic. His moans fill the room, muffled by your thighs and causing vibrations to shoot up to your center, “I’m going to cum, baby. You did such a good job for me, all for me,” you reassure him, as you come undone over his eager mouth. He continues to lap up your release, licking and kissing your sensitive folds.
You slide off him, your legs shaking and unsteady from your orgasm. Spencer wipes his face with the back of his hand, looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes are like headlights in the dark room. They are lights flashing a sign of warning before a tragic collision. But you’re too far into the crash to care about the fallout. So you kiss him. You kiss him so he’ll remember you long after you’re back in Quantico pretending that this night never happened.
“Let me fuck you,” Spencer says, confirming that you want to continue as much as he does. He slides up so he rests against the headboard, “Let me fuck you so you’ll always feel me. You’ll feel me when you let some pathetic excuse of a man fuck you,” he whispers, his voice deep and heated in your ear. You want to do nothing but comply. His hands draw you in. They’ve always drawn you in. Spencer’s filthy words replay in your head. Is it true jealousy or is it just part of the allure? You wonder if it’s him wanting you back or him fucking with you one last time?
“Please,” you call out, crawling up to sit in his lap. His pants are kicked down, laying forgotten on the bed. You’re skin to skin. You can feel him blush deep red as your fingers dance across his face. He’s beautiful like this, but tragic. Maybe that’s why you were drawn to him. You’ve always loved beautiful, tragic things, “Please fuck me, Spencer,” you insist, kissing his neck, leaving marks of your own.
“Has anyone fucked you since I’ve had you?” he asks, the patronizing tone shouldn’t have the effect on you that it does. It washes over you, threatens to rip away at your sensibility and overrun your sanity. Spencer’s dark eyes, blown out in pleasure, are dangerously beautiful. He’s always walked the line of dangerously beautiful. If love shouldn’t hurt then why do you crave the sting that his kisses leave?
“No,” you tell him, honestly, despite the humiliation that comes. He knows that you’re not over him and yet he’s going to leave you wondering if he’s still hung up on you, “No one would compare,” you tell him, hoping it’s the right answer to convince him to do something.
“Is that right?” Spencer coos, his voice oozing with pride and lust, he kisses your temple, his hands cling to your back, “You’re a smart girl, Y/N. You know that only I can make you feel like this,”
He’s right. Never did you feel the deep, burning passion for someone. Never did you feel so strongly for someone until Spencer. Not with your college hookups or early twenties relationships did you ever want someone as much as you wanted Spencer. He’s quicksand, he’s dangerous, and yet you find yourself clawing out from the wreckage seeking his soft lips and kind brown eyes.
“Only you,” you choke out, as Spencer’s fingers find your clit once again. He grinds up into your, letting your soaking folds meet his painfully hard cock. You hold in the moans that want to escape, knowing well that you’ll wake up your neighbors if you don’t. You would think that Spencer is magic from the way his fingers and lips find the parts of you that need him the most. But magic doesn't exist. It’s not magic that drives him to the places that you yearn for his touches, it’s not love either. It’s passion and desire. He has the map to you; the very map that he shred to pieces years earlier.
“That’s right, baby,” Spencer teases, lining up against your entrance as he kisses all over your chest. Your breasts fall in front of his face, nearly distracting him from what he’s saying, “I’m going to fill you up so good, sweetheart,”
You sink down on his cock, sighing as you relish in the way he fills you up. His hands cling to your hips, keeping you in place, like you’d even dare to move. Your mouth opens as you feel the burning sensation of him inside you. Spencer’s index finger draws along the curve of your upper lip, marveling as you whimper as the tiniest of touches. You want to move, to see if he can get deeper inside you, but you don’t dare to do anything with his permission first. His steady breathing, his finger against your lip and his eyes trained on yours has your flushing with anticipation.
“Oh sweetheart, I missed this,” Spencer coos, kissing the sides of your jaw messily. You smile at his praise, loving the feeling of making him feel good as you try to focus on steading your breath, “I miss you, Y/N,”
“I miss you too, Spence,” you say, the words tumbling out as you plant a kiss against his lips, hushing the words he was about to say, “I need more,” you beg, hoping to convince him to move. You know he can feel your walls grip around him, needing something more than the stillness he offers.
“Be patient, good girls are patient,” Spencer chides, kissing your forehead and over your eyelids. He can smother you in his kisses if you’d have it your way. Death by a thousand kisses; cuts patched up by healing pecks.
You start to roll your hips, hellbent on reliving the burning pleasure that blazes through your core. Spencer, though on his last defense of resistance, grips your hips, halting any attempt at seeking your release.
“Be a good girl,” he whispers, remind you of your place, “Be my good girl, Y/N,”
“Yes,” you say, eager to follow his demands. You take his hand in your hand, inspecting it. His veins start near where his wrist meets the back of his hand. It takes over the whole expanse of his skin, coloring parts of his skin a blueish green. The veins lead into his slender, long fingers. You’ve hand them lost in your hair and on nearly every inch of your body at some point— and still it’s not enough. He is a perfectly crafted balance of delicate and strong. You kiss the back of his hand, teeth grazing against his prominent vein, feeling the life course through his hands. Turning his hand over, you left wet kisses across his palm. You can feel him twitch inside you, as he watches you pepper kisses on his hands in an act that resembles worship.
“I’ve hardly moved,” he says, referencing your labored breathing and blown out pupils, “looks like I can still make you fall apart,” his fingers sneak up to your face. His cool touch is the cure to your flushed, heated skin.
You never doubted that he could make you fall apart. The real question is if he could — would put you back together. You want to have faith in him, even if it’s a faithless fate. You want to love him again, even if it will kill you.
“I need more, Spence,” you beg, not caring that you sound desperate in his arms, “Please fuck me,” you plead, hoping to appeal to the side of him that you know can never resist your charms. Especially as you kiss along his jawline, whimpering into his ear.
“You’re so fucking cute like this,” Spencer says, brushing his hands over your hair as he thrusts up into you. His hands grip your hips, spurring you on as you begin to move on his cock, “Come on, Y/N. You’re so insatiable. I know one is never enough for you,”
His lips seek yours, hungry to feel you against him. Spencer groans, feeling you tighten around him. He holds you to his chest, his grip digging into your skin as he grinds his teeth.
He kisses you again, his lips seeking the contact after just moments apart. His quiet whimpers and fingers against your face make you a traitor against your own will. You feel yourself melt away as his feverish kisses become more erratic. You can feel the tense build in your chest and it threatens to spill over.
“I love you,” Spencer whispers, so quietly you’re sure you’ve missed it. You kiss him, or rather, smother him with your lips.
“I love you,” you say in return. Not because it’s what you say after someone says they love you. You can’t even count how many times you’ve said it. To your college roommates as they run out the door to their terrible paying jobs, to your mother from the fire escape as she gets in the taxi after visiting, to your cat as you dash out the door when whisked away on a case. It’s such a simple three words. Simple, but heavy.
With an equally heavy breath, you whisper it again in Spencer’s ears.
“I love you, Spencer,”
He is so close you can stretch your lips so only a little bit and is flushed chest. You can feel in suck in a breath as you kiss his skin. Your touch, not foreign to him, but charged this time.
“I never stopped loving you,” Spencer says, his words hanging in the air as they drip from his lips, “And I’ll never stop,”
His hands return to your face, holding you gently. You’re still consumed by the weight of his confession, by the promise of being his again. The fears of falling into old paths and hurting each other again rests in the back of your mind as Spencer’s delicate fingers run across your face. His fingertips leave evidence of his love on your skin and you never want to wash it away.
Together, you’ll dance across the dangerous slope. And though it might make you a traitor, with Spencer by your side it might just be worth the risk.
“You feel so good, so good, Spencer,” you cry out, stunned by how deep inside you he reaches. The headboard bangs against the wall, disturbing your unlucky neighbors, “I feel so full,” you tell him, making his thrusts grow faster and more intense at the praise.
He kisses your cheeks, losing himself for a moment. Forgetting that things like that don’t happen during hook-ups. He kisses like he’s making promises. You can get dizzy off the way his lips mesh with yours and the way his hands hold your face. His slender fingers slide down your jawline and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Spencer tugs on your lip, smiling as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock. He closes his eyes, moaning.
“I know,” Spencer says, still holding your face, “I know it’s good, sweetheart. You were always so good for me,” his voice strained. Exhausted from your first orgasm, you feel yourself grow more tired. Spencer must notice because his hands leave your face and hover over your back.
Gently, he pushes your back so your chest is flush against his. Overwhelmed by his thrusting, you lean forward, resting your forehead against his sweaty chest. He heaves as he breaths, hellbent on chasing both your climaxes. His words stick to your skin as the room burns down around you. You sway in the dark with your arms wrapped around Spencer’s torso and your legs around his waist. Crying out in pleasure, Spencer’s lips cover your mouth, quieting you effectively.
“Spencer,” you cry out, stopping at his name because you know you won’t be able to stop the rest of the words that follow, “I love you,” you say, his name and those three little words synonymous on your lips.
“Spencer, I’m gonna- I’m gonna come,” you cry out, your voice hoarse from trying to keep quiet.
“You want to come on my cock?” Spencer asks, his thrusts growing sloppy and unmeasured as he nears his release too, “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. My good girl,” he adds, kissing the side of your head as he draws shapes on your back.
“Yes, please, Spencer,” you shout, not caring that your voice carries throughout the room and down the hallway, “A-anything, fuck, Spence,” you cry, pleading for Spencer to allow for your release. He’s usually lenient, or rather, you’re his weak spot.
“Okay, sweet girl,” he says, kissing your face as he relents, “you can come, but right after you let me fill you up,” he tells you, his words making your body rage with an inextinguishable fire. His fingertip kisses burn your skin.
“Oh my god,” you cry out, carried away by Spencer’s continued ministrations on your clit as he comes undone, “Please fill me up, Spencer. Please I need it, I need you,”
He comes undone, his thrusting growing sloppy and his vocal whimpers ricocheting in your ears. All through his release, Spencer continues to rub circles on your clit, encouraging your shy whines and needy moans. He smiles at your desperation as he acts on his promise.
“Can you take it, Y/N? Be a good girl and take my cum. Just like that. I love you, Y/N. I love you,” he cries, his lips finding yours as he kisses you again, “You can come now, Y/N. Such a good girl for me,” he says, kissing you in encouragement. His words and lips are enough to help you reach your climax.
It’s never like how it’s described in those bodice rippers you hid in between your mattress in college. You don’t see a big white light and there’s no moment of clarity. His teeth clash against yours as his thrusts slow, your release evident on your thighs. You’re still sensitive when he tries to pull out. You hiss at the sensation of him leaving you. Spencer, still drunk off the high of doing this again, kisses your collarbone as he calms down.
He lays next to you breathing unsteadily as he comes down from his high. Spencer’s hands snake around your body, searching for your warmth and acknowledgement that the words spilled were just as heavy as they seem. Shyly, contrasting his words and actions just moments before, Spencer moves his head to rest against your bare shoulder. His hair tickles your neck and you know you’ll get numb from the weight of his head against your arm.
“Do you think we get second chances in life?” Spencer asks, his voice wavering as he mumbles in the dark, “I mean I don’t think I deserve a second chance, because of everything that’s happened…”
“We both hurt each other,” you say, taking part of the blame, that is rightfully yours to carry, “We both did things we regret. But what’s important, Spence is that we came back to each other,” you promise, kissing his hand that rests on your stomach. You lace your fingers in his squeezing as you continue to kiss the scars and marks on his beautiful hands.
“I don’t want to hurt you again. Ever,” Spencer whispers, “I love you, but does me loving you hurt you?” he asks, his reservations bubbling to the surface as a stream of tears run down his face.
“Spence, there isn’t a rulebook for this. I don’t have the answers for what to do when a good man hurts me and I hurt him too. There’s no answer, baby,” you tell him, wiping away the tears from his face as they collect on your skin, “But here’s the thing, you’re worth the risk,”
“I’m going to love you,” Spencer says, “I’m going to love you for a lifetime and then some,” he tells him, twisting his body so your legs and arms are tangled up in the sheets, “It’s just, after Maeve, I didn’t think I deserved to be happy. I thought that I had all the happiness I was allowed. I thought that I was done,”
“You’ve got enough love to share, Spence,” you say, hoping his heart is big enough for you, even know with the wounds that you both wear, “It’s big enough for both of us,”
“You’re incredible,” he whispers, sitting up to pick his long discarded shirt from the bed.
“I know,” you say, kissing his forehead as your heartbeats mesh into a single beat.
You’re not a faithful woman, but somehow, you do believe in Spencer’s promises, “And you’re worth it in the end, Spence,”
“I love you,” Spencer says, repeating the word as he did before till it loses all meaning, “I love you,” he says, as sleep, for the first time in a very long time, takes the reins of both of you.
His deep breathing and steady heartbeat is the lullaby that you’ve dreamt of. It’s worth the risk if you’ll wake up in his arms tomorrow morning with more than the lingering kisses to remember him by.
This masterlist contains dark and nsfw content such as sex, dubcon, and noncon. If you are not 18+ or are sensitive to such themes, please do not read or interact. Continuing on means that you are 18+ and are intentionally consuming this media. My opinion on people who serial-like my fics. Short answer: please dont. You may get blocked.
I previously had this blog and deleted it so if you see the fics below under this same url somewhere else on tumblr, it is mine! However I give no one permission to repost or use the fics below! They are my own works of fiction and I worked hard on them. Readers written as black and female unless specified otherwise. I’d love some interaction.
Current WIPs
Tom Holland & his characters
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
Summary: Peter makes his move after getting you alone at his holiday party
Pairing: soft!dark!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings: fic includes smut, dubious consent due to alcohol consumption, manipulation, spiking someone’s drink (with alcohol)
Only Mine, Valentine
Summary: Peter reassures himself on what’s his and only his
Pairing: soft!dark!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings: possessive and manipulative behavior, stalking, implied violence, smut, overstimulation
Devilish
Summary: Peter wasn’t bit by a spider in high school, but he did get bitten by something else in college… College AU.
Pairing: soft!dark!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings: nonconsensual kissing and touching, mind compulsion, dubious consent, and implied kidnapping
Devilish AU Masterlist
All for us
Summary: The fact of the matter is this: Peter Parker ran in very different circles now. He was going to take it all and he was going to take you with him.
Pairing: soft!dark!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings: dubcon/noncon, consensual sex with nonconsensual sexual acts, drug mention, mention of violence (minimal description of a fistfight), smut, kidnapping? kinda sorta
Make Me Choose
Summary: Nearly identical in looks and both in love with you, but that’s where the similarities ended… how could you choose?
Pairing: soft!dark!Arvin Russell x fem!reader x soft!dark!Peter Parker
Summary: Peter has endeavored for years to be your perfect match...
Pairing: yandere!Peter Parker x black!Amazonian!reader
Warnings: stalking, acts, language and behavior that could be seen as demeaning (catcalling, misandry, objectification), pick me behavior, made up details for Greek Myths, smut 18+ only
Timothée Chalamet & his characters
Lure AU Masterlist
Summary: She watches the waves crash in every morning unaware of who’s watching her. Siren AU
Pairing: soft!dark!Timothée Chalamet x fem!reader (though he is never mentioned by name)
Series Warnings: fic includes dubious consent, manipulation, kidnapping, somnophilia, forced breeding
Inevitable
Summary: You always chose to make light of the arranged marriage to your best friend and you always thought he felt the same… Royal AU
Summary: Meeting him was a small indulgence but you were fooling yourself to think you could handle him
Pairing: dark fey!Timothée Chalamet x fem!reader
Series Warnings: fey antics, attempted kidnapping (multiple technically), tiny blood mention, drugging with fey food, dubious consent/nonconsensual smut
The Fire We Make
Summary: Laurie loves Jo, but what he has with you burns brighter.
Pairing: dark!Laurie Laurence x fem!reader
Warnings: nonconsensual smut, brief spanking mention, forced cockwarming, restraining to a bed, reference to ambiguous past punishment
Oasis AU Masterlist
Summary: collection of blurbs around god complex!Paul Atreides
Pairing: dark!Paul Atreides x Fremen!fem!reader (black-coded)
Series Warnings: non consensual kissing, abuse of power, probably some blasphemy, non consensual haircut?, knife fight, blood and injuries
All Hail AU Masterlist
Summary: If he had to be king, his queen had to be you
Pairing: soft!dark!King Hal x fem!reader
Series Warnings: dubious consent smut, cuckolding, and forced breeding, death threats, murderous ideation?
Alouette AU Masterlist
Summary: Survival. That’s all you’d known for so long. You didn’t think there could be too many more surprises about this death loop you'd found yourself trapped in. Dead by Daylight AU
Pairing: dark!Timothée Chalamet x fem/reader
Warnings: mentions of blood and death and murder and the screams of the dying? nonconsensual touching, implications of awful things such as nonconsensual smut and murder, chasing, semi-graphic death and injury description and blood mention
Close to Midnight
Summary: It's close to midnight, something evil's lurking in the dark. Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart.
Pairing: soft!dark!Regulus Black x fem!reader
Warnings: implied noncon smut, dickish behavior, wishy washy ass Regulus, intermittent French without translation.
Pay the Toll
Summary: At sea, Paul finds that legends are lessons and there's truth in myth
Pairing: Paul Atreides x soft!dark!fem!reader
Warnings: dubcon smut, mindfucking (kinda literally?), inducing an anxiety response, mix of superstitions as well as a few made up ones.
Oh, Where’s My Love?
Summary: No one knows you better than him
Pairing: soft!dark!Timothée Chalamet x black!fem!reader
Warnings: kidnapping, blink and you miss it smut mention, stalking, bondage mention (silk ropes and handcuffs)
Careful What You Wish For AU Masterlist
Summary: You're tired of being the only virgin in your friend group and wish things would finally change...
Pairing: soft!dark!Timothée Chalamet x black!fem!reader
Series Warnings: dubcon smut, loss of virginity, pain kink, squirting, blink and you miss it blood play, forced breeding, also you absolutely can get pregnant your first time demon!timmy is a liar!, punishment, forced orgasms, collar mention, overstimulation
Robbie Kay & his characters
where I’ll be waiting
Summary: You think adulting is trash and Pan can help with that
Pairing: dark!Peter Pan (OUAT) x black!fem!reader
Warnings: noncon/dubcon smut 18+ only, knife play (and use but no blood), bondage, kidnapping, orgasm denial, dacryphillia, possessive behavior and language, sadistic Pan, ummm idk how to describe this any other way but he carves his initials into her 😅 but as I said there’s no blood just ✨magic✨
Song Rec Moodboards and Imagines
📸💭 It Will Come Back + dark!Arvin Russell imagine
📸💭It’s a Jungle Out There + dark!Peter Parker imagine
📸 Holy Ghost + Oasis!Paul Atreides
📸 Sing Me to Sleep
📸 Dracula
💭 King Hal fucking an heir into you in front of your husband
💭 Inevitable!Timothée fucking you from behind in a mirror
💭 Just a taste of dark!Paul Atreides
💭 Literally just a taste of Folie à Deux!Timothée
💭 Alouette!Timmy headcanons
💭 Inevitable!Timmy said ‘let them eat cake’ and by cake he means 🐱
Summary: It feels like time stands still when you’re inside Spencer’s arms, until someone comes to remind you about the world outside of his apartment
Request: Spencer and reader spend the night together. They get calls in the morning for a case but they don’t respond, the team goes to their apartments, only to find them together at Spencer’s place. Fluff and maybe smut :)
Author's Note: This request was so much fun and I honestly made myself giggle while writing the last scene. Special thanks to @writer-in-theory and @reidselle for beta reading!
Word count: 4.5k
Masterlist
Exactly seventeen minutes of you watching your coworker had passed until Spencer lifted his eyes from the file in front of him and found you staring at him. The corners of your mouth curled upwards while he furrowed his eyebrows and briefly looked over his shoulder to make sure it was him you smiled at.
“Everything… okay?” He hesitantly asked.
“I’m waiting for you to finish up so I can offer you a ride home,” you announced.
“That’s okay. I don’t mind taking the train.”
As you got up from your desk and walked over to him, he averted his eyes until you stood right in front of him. Honey-colored irises looked at you with a precious glimmer, reminding you of the curiosity children displayed when they inspected foreign objects. When he coyly smiled at you, you heard your heart screaming at you to not let him go home alone.
“Come on, pack up. I insist,” you laughed while closing the files on his desk.
Feeling courageous for once, you let your fingers brush over his as you tried to take the pen from his hand. A part of you expected him to flinch away at the contact, but he didn’t. Instead his cheeks took on a light pink shade as he let your fingertips linger on his hand for a split second before giving up the pen from his grip.
“Okay, yes. A ride home actually sounds nice. It’s pouring outside,” he finally concluded and got up from his desk.
“Well, good thing you have me then.”
He chuckled at that and nodded, “Yes, it is good to… have you.”
The heavy rain made it necessary to adjust the speed below the tempo limit, prolonging the drive to Spencer’s place. You didn’t mind in the slightest. On the contrary, you cherished every second spent with your favorite coworker more than you’d like to admit. Even hours stuck in traffic sounded delightful as long as you had Spencer in your passenger seat. No matter how much time you had with him, it always passed way too quickly anyway.
Listening to his rambles about the subjects near and dear to his heart always enlightened a spark inside you, letting you long to be the one person he would always feel comfortable sharing his thoughts with. You drove slower than necessary the closer you got to his apartment, wondering if he would notice what you were doing. If he did, he didn’t say anything and instead kept sharing his thoughts about a Russian movie you had never heard of.
“We should watch it sometime,” you suddenly said, your eyes averting from the road for a moment to meet his. He smiled at your suggestion.
“Yeah? I would like that.”
Pulling into the parking lot at Spencer’s apartment building, you couldn’t stop the sigh dropping from your lips. You watched him as he unbuckled his seatbelt before turning his head to look at you.
“Thank you for the ride.”
There were no right words to be found to tell him that you didn’t want your time together to end just yet, so you didn’t say anything at all. Before he could ask you if you were okay, you undid your own seatbelt to lean over the center console, only to halt your motion before you could close the gap between your lips and his.
“I’m so sorry,” you muttered with a heart suddenly beating louder than the words you spoke.
You quickly pulled back, shocked at your own boldness. The realization that you had just almost kissed Dr. Spencer Reid hit you hard as you stared into his widened eyes. After what felt like an eternity but was probably just seconds, his facial features softened and you felt his fingertips meet your heated cheeks.
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered as he leaned closer.
This time you dared to close the remaining distance, your lips tentatively ghosting over his, still uncertain if this is what he wanted. You felt his hand wander from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, pulling you a little closer so he could let his mouth fully brush over yours.
The sensation of his lips against yours sent sparks through your body.
When he deepened the kiss and let his tongue meet yours, you felt the need to hold onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders harsher than you had intended. Feeling him smile into your kiss let your heart flutter erratically inside your chest, and you were certain that he had to hear the desperate thumps against your ribcage.
You were eager to know if his heart felt the same way too, so you let your right hand glide down from his shoulder to his chest, resting it there to feel the beating of his heart. It seemed to match the elevated frequency of yours, only to get a little faster when you felt his hand descend from the nape of your neck. For a moment you thought he wanted to explore the curves of your body, and you would have welcomed that, but he wanted to feel you the same way you felt him in that moment.
With his palm pressed against your chest right where your heart sat underneath the layers of fabric, skin and bones, you felt a connection to him that felt too pure to be put into words. The urge to let more oxygen float into your lungs overcame you, so you pulled back slightly and looked at the man before you. He wore the most beautiful smile you had ever seen and you decided you had not yet had enough of him.
With little grace and interrupted by both of you giggling, you climbed over the center console of your car until Spencer caught you in his arms and guided you onto his lap. His lips were on yours in an instant, his kiss growing hungrier with every second passing. Your hands found their home in his hair, intertwining your fingers with his curls.
His fingertips brushed over your sides before deciding to rest on your waist, twitching against your blouse as if he tried to hold back from letting them wander over your body. The sound of a whimper falling from his lips as you tugged lightly on his hair made you greedy for more.
The rain was still falling heavily from the sky, adding some romance to a situation that was on the brink of turning more amorous.
Just when you wanted to shift in his lap, curious to find out if he was equally excited as you were, the sound of a car starting the engine in the parking lot beside you startled you. You almost jumped at the interruption, breaking the kiss to look outside the window. The glass had fogged up in a way you had only ever seen in the movies and it made you laugh.
With your finger pressed against the cool surface of the passenger seat window, you decided to draw a little heart on the steamed up glass. Spencer seemed unfazed from the car driving off from the spot beside you. He cupped your face with his palms to pull you closer once more. He placed a few little kisses on your lips before he let his nose playfully rub against yours.
“I have thought about doing this for the longest time,” he cooed.
“What exactly?” you snickered, “making out with me in a car like some horny teenagers?”
Spencer breathed out a chuckle and clarified, “the setting was secondary.” He kissed you once more, mumbling against your lips, “but yes, I have thought about kissing you.”
Pulling back to look at him, you let your fingertips wander over his cheeks, tracing his jawline. He looked at you with wonder in his eyes, your heart warming at the realization that all this pining these last few months had been mutual.
“Yeah? I have thought about it, too. A lot, actually,” you confessed.
You kissed some more before Spencer suggested, “Do you maybe want to take this to my apartment?”
You pulled back and smirked at him, noticing the innocence in his voice despite the suggestiveness of his statement.
“I mean, we don’t have to… do anything, I just… we could just hang out?” He muttered, his cheeks turning from rosy to a more crimson shade.
“Yes, Spencer. I would love to hang out with you.”
Together you stumbled out of your car and into the hallway of the building, chasing each other as you ran up the stairs. You came to a halt leaning against the door of apartment 23, smirking at the man pressing his body against you. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips before he got his keys and opened the door.
As soon as the door was closed again, Spencer had no time to waste. His mouth was on yours in an instant while his hands firmly gripped your waist, moving along with you through his apartment without ever breaking contact. He displayed an urgency in his actions you hadn’t expected from him, the obvious extent of his desire pressing firmly against your hip once you reached his bedside.
Hastily you started to undo the buttons of his shirt, getting frustrated when it took longer than you liked. Spencer’s hands were quick to assist you, helping you rid him of his shirt before they flew to the hem of your blouse. Within moments both of you shed your clothes, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.
You pushed Spencer down on the mattress, moving with him until he was laying on his back with you in his lap. Leaning down to continue your kiss, you started to rock your hips against the hardness straining his underwear, making him moan into your mouth. You felt his hands wander to your hips, taking a hold of them and burying his fingertips into supple skin.
The friction you created between your legs let your panties dampen quickly and you couldn’t stop the sounds of your own pleasure from escaping your throat. His fingers started wandering over your upper body, dancing along your skin, leaving goosebumps on their path. He started fumbling with the clasp of your bra, making you smile when you noticed him struggling to open it.
You removed the piece of clothing yourself, noticing the hunger in Spencer’s eyes when he glanced over your exposed chest. With his lips agape, he looked at you as if he had just witnessed a miracle.
His eyes found yours again and he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”
“You can touch them, you know,” you snickered at his reaction.
He didn’t need more encouragement, his warm palms were on your chest in a split second. Only touching you didn’t seem to be enough for him. With one hand on the mattress, he pushed himself up until his face met the soft curves of your breasts. With your hands on the back of his head you secured his position while continuing to grind against him.
He started exploring your chest with open mouthed kisses, licking and sucking on every inch of skin he could reach. When he reached your hardened peaks, you moaned out his name and felt him twitch against your center. Before his ministrations got too much for you, you firmly pushed against his shoulders until he lay back down once more.
Leaning down, you shared another kiss before you moved your lips over his jaw and throat, nipping on sensitive skin as you descended down his body. You kissed along the waistband of his underwear before you sat up beside his hips. Dragging your fingertips over his chest and down his stomach, you felt his muscles twitch underneath your touch. You trailed the line of hair from his navel downwards before you hooked your fingers into the fabric to remove it.
The wonder in your eyes couldn’t have been that much different from the one you saw in Spencer’s look earlier. You were hesitant to touch him where he was clearly aching to feel you. Glancing over his exposed body lying in front of you, you couldn’t help but take a moment to fully indulge in the sight of his beauty. He didn’t say anything, instead he patiently watched you as you took your time looking at him. When you locked eyes with him again, you found him smiling at you.
“I’m sorry,” you giggled as you motioned down his body, “I got distracted.”
Instead of teasing you for the obvious display of your attraction towards him, he opened his arms and cooed, “Come here.”
Laying down beside him, he gently kissed you while brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
“We can slow down if you want. Nothing has to happen tonight,” he reassured you.
“Oh, but I would really like for something to happen tonight. Don’t you?”
A sneaky hand found its way down his body to wrap around the base of his hardness. His eyes widened and pupils dilated at the sudden contact, a whine falling from his lips.
“Is that a yes?” You purred.
“Yes,” he groaned and you started to stroke him. “Fuck, yes.”
You shifted your position again until your face was hovering over his erection. As you placed tender kisses along velvety skin, Spencer threw his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. Your tongue glided over his tip before you closed your mouth around him. The sound of his moans filled the room and started clouding your mind.
You got greedy for more, eager to see him fall apart just for you to put back together again.
He throbbed against your tongue as you moved your mouth over him. Pressing your own thighs together, you felt yourself getting needy for some attention. Your eyes were fixated on his face, taking in every twitch of his lips and furrowing of his brows. Suddenly he opened his eyes, looking down at you with rosy cheeks and dark eyes.
“Y/N, fuck!”
You would have been more than happy to let him fall over the edge like that, but he seemed to have other things in mind. Before he got too close to his breaking point, Spencer’s hand flew to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to pull you off him. With his thumb he wiped the saliva off your chin.
“I need to be closer to you,” Spencer purred while motioning for you to lay back down beside him.
As he started to kiss you, his fingertips brushed over the curves and dips of your body until they found their destination between your legs. He pushed the soaked fabric of your panties aside to let his fingers glide through your folds. Just when he started to press against your most sensitive spot, you felt the need to touch him again as well. Your hand found his length, teasing him a bit before wrapping your fingers around him to move them up and down slowly.
“More,” you mumbled, “I need more.”
Spencer understood, letting two of his fingers enter your aching core. You couldn’t help but start to rock against his hand as he pushed into you, bringing you closer to your own ecstasy. However, it still wasn’t enough.
“Spencer, please!”
He pulled his face back slightly to look at you. You stared back at him with half-lidded eyes, heated cheeks and panting lips.
“What do you need?” He groaned without ever stopping the rhythmic motion of his hand between your thighs.
You couldn’t answer him, already too far lost in the pleasure. He watched you for a moment, before he spoke again.
“Answer me.”
Your eyes shot open, realizing you had never heard him talk to you in that tone. His voice was harsh and demanding and it excited you.
Not answering him was not an option this time, so you finally sighed, “Fuck me, please.”
Spencer smirked at you once he heard your words, pleased that you said what he apparently wanted to hear. When he removed his hand from your center you whined in protest.
With his smug grin he looked at you and chuckled, “I know. Just a second.”
Reaching over to his nightstand, he took out a condom from the drawer and put it on in one swift motion before positioning himself between your legs and pulling down your panties. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds, teasing you until you started whimpering. At this point you were burning for his touch, feeling needy for him to finally grant you relief.
“It’s okay. I got you,” he cooed as he sunk into you.
Swinging your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, you brought him impossibly close, not allowing any distance between your bodies. Your walls began to flutter around his length once he started moving. With slow and deep thrusts he pushed into you, making your whole body quiver in pleasure.
Tender lips found each other for an urgent kiss, yearning to let your bodies melt into one another in every way possible. Even with his weight on top of you, being with Spencer still felt like it could make you float, clouding your mind as you chased your relief together with him.
“Fuck,” he panted, “you feel so good!”
You answered him with a moan and your hips joining his movements in perfect synchronicity. The tension in your body became almost unbearable and begged to be released.
“Harder,” you whined.
His pace became relentless as he was keen on pleasing you. He hovered over you, your eyes locked with his while you felt like you might actually fall apart from this sensation. Before it became too much, you decided to close your eyes.
Spencer’s hand found the side of your face, gently brushing over it as he slowed down his movements and whispered, “Look at me.”
Your eyes found his again, radiating warmth and yearning but even more than that, lust. He accelerated his pace once more.
“Just like that. I want you to look at me when you come on my cock.”
The crudeness of his words sent a shock through your body, making you clench your walls around him. You tried your best to keep your eyes open, looking at him and noticing his face scrunching up more and more as he came closer to his own undoing. With one particular forceful thrust he sent you over the brink without ever averting his eyes from you.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good,” he praised you as he felt your core pulsating.
He helped you through your high before allowing himself to fully indulge in the sensation of finally having you after all those months of longing and pining. While you tried to catch your breath, Spencer’s movements became erratic as he chased his own high. You pulled him closer to let him bury his face into the crook of your neck just moments before he started to quiver as he released any remaining tension.
You still had your legs and arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly against your body while feeling his hot breath on your neck. He smiled into your skin when you started to let your fingertips dance over his back in soothing patterns.
Although the longing to have him as close as possible was still not quite soothed, it was inevitable for you to move at last. After you cleaned up, you started to get dressed again while Spencer was still in the bathroom. Although you secretly hoped that this was not a one-time-thing, you had enough experience with hook-ups to know when it was time for you to go.
Spencer came back into the bedroom just when you pulled up your pants.
“What are you doing?”
Looking at him, you noticed the corners of his mouth dropping. His beautiful smile had suddenly turned into a frown, so you explained, “It’s getting really late and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
He stepped closer to you, tenderly taking a hold of your wrists before you could pick up your blouse from the floor. He took a deep breath and pleaded, “Please don’t leave.”
“You want me to stay?”
“Yes,” he reassured you, “Yes, of course I want that. Don’t go, please.”
You swung your arms around his shoulders to pull him into a hug, having him place his hands on your back to push you into his body firmly. It warmed your heart to be wanted, to be needed to stay here.
“Okay,” you mumbled against the bare skin of his shoulder, “I’ll stay.”
Spencer got you your go-bag from your car so you could get ready for the night. Never had you imagined that driving him home after work would lead you directly into his arms. You found your place inside his embrace in the bed, nuzzling your face against the washed-out fabric of his shirt as you breathed in his scent. You had always felt safe when you were with him but it couldn’t compare to the sense of security you felt in that moment.
Being close to him as he dozed off felt like finally coming home after being on the road for months.
You felt how his chest rose steadily, his breathing evening out, and you smiled to yourself as you closed your eyes. It took you longer than usual to find sleep since your heart threatened to jump out of your chest at the realization of what had happened tonight. When you finally felt your limbs getting heavy as the harbingers of sleep crept closer, you could only hope that you’d find yourself tangled up with Spencer in your dreams as well.
Several hours later your body noticed that the morning sun had made its way into the bedroom, letting you slowly wake from your slumber. When your eyes fluttered open, you found Spencer already awake, looking at you with a soft smile. His hair was dishevelled and his eyelids were still heavy with sleep but he looked oh so cute.
“Good morning,” he greeted you with a raspy voice.
“G’morning,” you yawned, “did you watch me sleep?”
“Maybe? Is that weird?”
You closed the gap between your bodies to press yourself against him. You placed your lips on his jaw, tracing the stubbles on his skin until you found his ear.
“No, it’s adorable,” you whispered before playfully nipping on his earlobe.
You left a trail of kisses down his neck while a curious hand made its way under his shirt, letting your palm brush over his side. Spencer started to stir, slowly moving away from you.
“Let me just brush my teeth real quick,” he said as he rolled off the bed.
He disappeared in the bathroom before you could tell him that you didn’t think that was necessary. Leaving the door open a crack, you heard him turning on the faucet of the sink. You decided to follow him and tentatively knocked on the door before he opened it with his toothbrush already in his mouth.
“I don’t want to waste any more time before we have to go to work,” you explained while entering the bathroom and taking your own toothbrush from where you had left it the night before.
You looked at the both of you through the reflection of the mirror above the sink, standing side by side while brushing your teeth. You couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of the situation. After Spencer was done, you leaned over the sink yourself to clean up, almost jumping when you felt his hands make contact with the curve of your backside. He squeezed your flesh slightly before letting his palms glide to your waist, guiding you to stand up straight.
He stood behind you, pressing his body into your back while he leaned down to kiss down your neck. His hands snuck under your shirt to find your breasts, letting his thumbs brush over your nipples until they hardened. You leaned into his touch while looking into the mirror to find his eyes. The growing bulge in his pajama pants pressed firmly against your ass, making you moan in anticipation.
“What are you doing,” you giggled.
“You said you had no time to waste,” he said before he kissed the side of your face and whispered against your skin, “so I thought I’d start right away.”
You motioned for Spencer to retract his hands so you could step away from him. While opening the bathroom door, you suggested, “Let’s continue this in bed.”
“ – Please don’t!” A wide-eyed Penelope was staring at you from the other side of the door.
You felt your heart stopping for a moment when you saw the unexpected guest standing in Spencer’s bedroom. The man behind you gasped at the sight of the intruder, any lewd thoughts quickly replaced by confusion.
“Thank god you’re dressed! I thought this was going to be even more awkward,” the woman in front of you chirped.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Spencer sounded more than annoyed at the interruption of your actions.
“I’m sorry to just come in here like that, but the workday started early today. We have a case.” Penelope explained. “Also, boy wonder, who taught you such a naughty word?” She added in a scolding but playful voice.
“You could have just called,” Spencer said as he took his phone from his nightstand only to find it dead. “Oh. I forgot to charge it.”
You looked around the room, trying to remember where your phone was until it hit you that you must have left it in your car.
“Yeah I imagine you must have been pretty preoccupied last night,” Penelope teased while letting her eyes wander over the scattered pieces of clothing on the floor. “Y/N didn’t answer either, so Derek went to her apartment and I came here. I think your doorbell is broken by the way, so I had to let myself in with the spare key.”
“That makes sense,” you concluded, still overwhelmed with the situation.
Spencer rubbed his hands over his face, aware that any plea for Penelope to keep this to herself would be futile.
“Come on, get ready. We have a life to save!” She said as she stepped out of the bedroom. “Chop chop, lovebirds!”
Spencer walked to his closet while you got something to wear out of your bag.
Before you entered the bathroom, you turned your head to Spencer and said, “So, knowing Garcia… It’s probably safe to assume that everyone will already know about this once we board the jet?”
“Yup.” He paused for a moment and added, “How do you feel about that?”
You thought about it for a second and told him, “I’m okay with it, actually.”
From the living room you heard the familiar voice of your coworker as she answered the ringing of her phone, “Derek, you are not gonna believe this!”
Both of you started laughing at the sound of Penelope gossiping. Spencer then smiled at you and said, “Yeah? I’m okay with that, too.”
Summary: Happy with their little family, Spencer and Reader think that it might just be time to expand it.
CW: Emotional smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, insecurities, oral sex (F receiving) (18 plus content)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife Reader
Word Count: 6,200
Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this! Remember, all reblogs, comments and notes mean the world to me!
MASTERLIST | LATEST FIC | Tell Me What You Thought
Infinity and More
Looking back, I’m still unsure of how it all started. Like I’m not sure how one or two choices led to all this imperfectly perfect mess. I love my perfectly imperfect mess, with the colorful toys littered around in the living room, the tiny sneakers that line the entryway wall, and the crayon marks that never seem to come off the walls.
I adore the toys and the sneakers and the crayon markers because it all comes together into our perfectly imperfect life we’ve made. Pictures line the walls and the smiling faces of my children and husband beam down on me. I like to look at them, seeing how Spencer and I age ever so slightly through the years. While Spencer and I’ve only changed a little bit, new glasses and hairstyles, our children grow into adorable little people who are perfect combinations of us both.
Nearly a decade and two children later, it would be safe to say that our family is complete. Maybe in a couple years the kids will beg for a dog and, of course, Spencer will join in on the begging. And, of course, I won’t be able to resist any of them.
Spencer leans against the doorway of the kitchen, still looking handsomely sleepy. He watches me and I pretend to not know he’s standing there.
It’s a Saturday. Which means bringing Auggie to chess at the public library and making sure Florence has her gear ready for softball. It’s a small enough task and there’s a certain serenity in knowing that in a couple hours the chaos of our house will all be gone and all that will remain is the comforting quiet of silence. It’s something rare in the house and, as much as I adore my children, I know I’m going to savor the quiet.
“The quiet before the storm,” Spencer says, as he walks over to the counter. I smile softly at him, enjoying the way that his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. He’s lucky that he can look so effortlessly handsome this early in the morning. His white tee shirt is discolored with bleach and rumpled slightly, but somehow he makes it work, along with his pajama pants to sit dangerously low on his hips.
“You look like you slept well,” I muse, reaching to grab a mug from a high shelf. Spencer reaches along with me, brushing his fingers against the back of my hand, slightly telling that he’s got it, “Thanks,”
Spencer smiles back at me, setting the mug on the counter. He kisses my forehead quickly through a smile. “Of course,”
“I thought you’d try to sleep in. You don’t have to take August to chess till noon,”
“Well I woke up and you weren’t there,” Spencer says, taking the coffee pot and pouring me a mug, “And I missed you,”
Laughing deliciously, drunk on the lack of sleep and Spencer’s kisses, “You missed me? We spent the whole night together,”
Spencer nods sheepishly, ducking his head and twisting his body into a hug. I welcome it, eager to feel his body against my body. The steadiness of his heartbeat is soothing. There isn’t another body, besides my own, that I know better than Spencer’s. I know the way his heart skips beats when he gets nervous, the way his cheeks blush at my touches, and the way his eyes dart around my body when I’m close.
“Hmm. It’s never enough with you,” Spencer says sweetly. He breathes in my scent, nose and breath tickling my neck. He, after all these years, makes my skin tingle with anticipation.
The sweetest and tenderness of the moment, suddenly, is gone. The pair of steamy coffees are neglected on the counter. His hands are holding my face still as he looks at me like he wants to devour me. Spencer eyes are a mixture of light honey brown and a cool green. It’s my favorite color because it’s so effortlessly Spencer. Or maybe it’s my favorite color because it’s what love looks like to me.
Spencer tastes like coffee. His skin is still warm from sleep and his hands find their rightful place on my waist. He grabs bunches of my shirt, his shirt actually, as he kisses me with more fervor. I start to feel something burn inside. Eagerness. Desire. Need. Love. All of it circles me, making me dizzy off the taste of his hazelnut coffee and vanilla creamer.
“Mommy! Mommy! Daddy! Dad-”
The little voices are heard before their even smaller bodies materialize. Dressed in mismatching pajamas, the kids bound into the kitchen full of glee. Spencer smiles into the kiss, nipping my bottom lip with his teeth. I scrunch my nose at the interruption, allowing myself to have a selfish moment to be annoyed at my children.
“What are you doing to Mommy?” Florence says, walking towards Spencer and tugging on his shirt. She looks up at him, her eyes exact copies of her father’s eyes. They’re the same honey brown and the same cool green.
“Kissing her,” Spencer says, brushing Florence’s hair from her forehead, “Good morning, Florrie,” he says, kissing the top of her head.
“Why?” Auggie says, appearing, as always, on his sister’s heels, “It’s icky,” he says, making a face that causes him and Florence to burst into a fit of unstoppable giggles.
“Because she’s so pretty,” Spencer says, winking at me and kissing my cheek. He effectively causes the children to roar with laughter.
“So you kiss girls because they're pretty?” Auggie says, a curious wonder appearing on his face not unlike his father’s own countenance, “That’s really silly,”
“Auggie,” I say, exhaling an exasperated sigh, “Baby, you don’t need to worry about kissing anyone for a really long time,” I tell him, ruffling his curly brown hair.
“Okay that’s good,” he says, nodding his little head with worry, “Can Daddy make waffles?” he asks, looking up expectantly from me to Spencer with wide eyes.
Florence chimes in with an eager “Please!”
Spencer, whose cheeks are still a tinged pink from kissing, leans against the kitchen counter watching his family. It’s moments like these that make me grateful for all life’s thrown at us, even if it’s a little sappy. And, at this moment, I have a feeling Spencer’s thinking the same thing.
“Of course,” Spencer says, “And maybe if you ask your mom really nice she’ll let you decorate them with whipped cream and sprinkles,”
Over the resounding chorus of squeaky pleases and chants of Mom and Mommy, please, I look over at the kitchen table with Spencer, Florence, and August and think that there just might be enough room for one more.
“A date weekend?” Spencer asks, nearly tripping over Florence’s science kit as he throws himself down on the couch, “At a hotel?”
“Yeah,” I say, running my fingers through Spencer’s hair, “And what’s with all the questions? Don’t you want a date night with your wife?”
“Of course I do,” Spencer says, “It’s just been a long time since it’s been the two of us. We’re busy. And the kids are just getting busier,”
“I know,” I say sympathetically, “Penelope said she’ll sleep over and you know it will be nice to do certain adult things that we can’t quite do when there’s two little people with the best hearing in the world the next room over,”
“Oh,” Spencer says, burning his head into my lap, “Yeah, I mean. I’m not going to say not to that,” he says, turning his face to smile up at me.
He’s really beautiful like this. His hair falls into his face like dominos. His nose scrunches up in an innocent sort of embarrassment that makes my heart soar. His wire-rimmed glass reflects the little reading light, making him look somehow both young and older at the same time.
“And you know we do have enough bedrooms for another one,” I say, wincing protectively for Spencer to respond. When he doesn’t say anything for a moment and then another, and makes me wonder if I read everything all wrong. He left all these little hints. From him musing about how cute baby clothes look in the clothing store, to him sending me pictures of Auggie’s first birthday, to him talking to everyone and anyone about how great his kids are, I think, as the moments pass by, I read this so wrong.
“You want another baby?” Spencer asks, an unreadable tone in his voice causing me to pause, “Reall?” he says, and the quiver in his voice tells me everything I need to know.
“Yeah,” I say, loosening Spencer’s tie as he rests with his feet hanging over the arm of the couch and his head in my lap, “I mean, we make really cool kids. Look at Florrie, she’s so smart. She devours book after book. You know I caught her the other night using her alarm clock to read after lights out. I mean, she’s just a little sponge,” I continue, feeling pure love course through my veins as I talk about my wonderfully sweet and smart children.
“Auggie’s all you,” Spencer says, playing with my hands. He laces my fingers in with his fingers, unable to not touch you, “And well, Florrie is all you too. But Auggie’s kind and caring and he’s an excellent chess player,”
“Ha! So you admit it. I’m a better chess player than you!”
I love it when Spencer laughs. It’s this sound that’s full of love and life and everything good and warm in this world. Laughter, with Spencer, is completely contagious. It’s impossible for me to maintain a straight face when he laughs. He’s always, ever since I've known him, had an uncanny ability to crack my facade. Maybe not crack, but melt.
“Shhh, you’re being way too loud,” I hush him, letting him kiss in hands in protest, “I just put those mangy kids to sleep, don’t wake them up now,”
“So no chance to wake them up for a hug and a quick story?” Spencer asks, peering up at me through his glasses.
“Not at all. Because if they see you they’ll want three stories each with different voices. And then they’ll convince us to let them into our bed. They’re mangly little monsters, Spencer,” I say, hardly able to resist rolling my eyes at Spencer’s pout.
“Yes, but they are our mangy little monsters that are actually really adorable. Especially when they sleep. You know how Auggie does that thing when he rubs his infant blanket between his fingers for comfort? Or how Florrie will try to steal your shirts because she says it’s like getting a constant hug from you?”
I lean down so my lips reach Spencer’s forehead. Gently, I place a kiss on his forehead, chuckling lightly at the soft sigh that Spencer lets out. It’s a sound of complete comfort and trust.
“We got pretty cute kids,” I remind him, reaching over and tugging off the lamp on the reading table, “Let’s get you to bed, old man. Before you fall asleep on my lap,”
Spencer, groaning dramatically, slowly sits up next to me on the couch. He leans in, gently resting his hand on my jaw. His long fingers reach up to my ear and the base of his palm tickles my chin. I’ve always felt safe when he kissed me like this; hands cradling me like I’m something precious.
“I’m not old,” Spencer says, grimacing as he tries to sit, “Well maybe I’m as limber as I used to be. But you certainly are, or at least we’ll see that over the weekend,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
“God, you’re such a dork,” I tease, standing up from the couch. I grab my books in one hand and with the other I help Spencer up from the couch.
“Yeah, a dork that can make you come-” he starts a teasing sort of voice making my cheeks heat in the dark.
“Spencer!” I shriek, his laughter ringing through the living room as he follows me up the stairs, “You’re insatiable,”
“Only for you, darling,” Spencer says, grabbing my hand as we walk up the stairs to the bedroom. His voice drops low as we walk by the bedrooms where sleeping children rest.
“So we’re going to do this?” he asks, “Try for another?”
I nod immediately, not having to have a moment of hesitation for a decision like this. Spencer flops onto the bed, already sprawled out, still in his work clothes. He grimaces when I flip on the switch, letting the bright light flood the dark room.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, sliding into the spot next to him. I rest my head on his shoulder and kiss the spot in between his ear and neck, “I think the kids are old enough, but it won’t be too big of an age gap. And I’ll be able to take some time off work too,”
“Maybe I’ll go to academia full time. You know, leave the BAU,” Spencer says, clearly thinking aloud. He must know what I’m going to say next because he answers my question before I can even ask, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. There’s a full time position available for a Chemistry professor on a tenure track at Mary Washington. Maybe I should take it?”
“It would be really nice to have you at home before the kids go to sleep,” I say, kissing Spencer’s forehead, “But I know it will be hard to leave the BAU,”
“I don’t know,” Spencer whispers. I can just picture the sad smile that must be on his face, “I’ll miss seeing the team. I’ll miss helping people that need it. But I won’t miss thinking I’m never going to see you every time I get on that plane. Or every time I put on a vest,”
“It’s okay to be sad. It’s a really big chapter in your life that’s gonna close. It’s okay to be sad, baby,” I whisper into Spencer’s ear, kissing his soft skin with a whole lot of love and tenderness.
“But I’ll be very happy to know that the only time you’ll be getting on planes is to go to family vacations and the only vests you wear are my horrible crocheted ones,”
“I love your sweater vests,” Spencer says quietly, “And I think the BAU will prepare me for family vacations for three children,”
“Getting ahead of yourself there, racer,” I tease, sitting up in bed.
“Actually,” Spencer says, resting on his elbow, “I was going to say four or five, but I didn’t want to scare you off,”
“Dork,” I tease, slipping off the bed and dropping my sweater to the ground. Spencer’s gaze dips to my bare arms and I swear that he gulps at the sight of me, “Well, I’m going to go shower. You know, if you’re interested and all,”
Turning to the attached bathroom, I smile as I hear the bed creek and feel Spencer brush by me beating me to the bathroom.
“Woah. Now this is really nice,” Spencer says, running his fingers along the leather-bound copies of books in the small library, “I guess I was right in getting an AirBnB over a hotel room. It feels more like a home,”
I nod, unzipping my backpack for the weekend. Spencer already finds himself in vacation mode, probably moments away from pulling out the nearest book and cracking it open. On the drive up, it was so quiet with just the two of us. But it was a good kind of quiet because silence with Spencer sometimes says more than the noise.
“So, we have enough groceries with us to make dinner here tonight. Or can we order in?” I say, sitting on the arm of the chair that Spencer claimed. He wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his head against my chest and sighing deeply as I toy with his hair.
“Hmm, whatever you want,” Spencer says, “Pizza, Thai, Indian. All three because, you know I get hungry after marathon sex. Especially marathon sex in the middle of a woods in a lonely cabin, without children in the next room or noise travelers,”
“Good idea, Spence. Neither of us are going to want to cook afterwards,” I tell him, a sudden shyness overcoming me, “Is it silly if I say that I’m a little nervous. It is silly, right?”
“I get nervous whenever you walk into a room, Y/N,” Spencer confesses, “And it’s not because being close to you triggers my anxiety or whatever. Just being in the room with you makes me feel all these emotions all at once. It makes the hair on my arms stand up straight. It makes me feel like a teenager with a secret crush. It makes me feel fucking alive. And I love you, so if you’re nervous, that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything like that. We can just order in and watch movies that we’ve missed for the last 8 years,”
“No, no,” I say, “I want to have sex tonight, Spencer. It’s just, sometimes I think I forget I’m not the same 22 year old that you fell in love with all those years ago. I’ve changed. I’m bigger than I used to be and I have new marks that weren’t always there. I’m different, and I’m not sure if it’s a good different,”
Spencer doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the words sink in and giving it time to settle.
“It’s the best kind of different there is,”
“Yeah. You’re just saying that because you have to,” I mumble, bringing my hands to cover my eyes to brush away the hot tears that fall down my cheeks, “You’re my husband. So-”
“So I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the room. In every room. In all the rooms. And yeah, you’ve changed in fifteen years. I’ve changed in fifteen years. God, you know that more than anyone, sweetheart,”
“Yeah and you’ve only gotten more and more handsome, Spencer. It’s actually a little ridiculous,” I tease, wanting to make light of the conversation that seems to be getting more and more intense.
“And think about how I feel about you,” Spencer whispers, dragging me from the arm of the chair to share the seat with him, “And you being the most beautiful, stunning woman in the world is least interesting thing about you,”
“You really know how to sweet talk a girl,” I say, leaning in so my lips brush against his when I talk, “And all this talk about how I’m so pretty and whatever, is making me want to fuck you. Right now,”
“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes and wandering hands making me yelp with glee as he follows me into the bedroom.
There’s a full length mirror in the bedroom. When I walk in, I can see Spencer standing behind me. He walks up towards me, hooking his arms with my arms. His chin rests comfortably on my shoulder and his hair tickles my chin. I’m not sure how long he stands there, staring at me and at him the full length mirror with a brass perimeter, but it’s seconds I know I’m never going to forget.
“Spence,” I whisper, looking at his eyes through the mirror. It’s still early evening, have the entire night and rest of the weekend to spend together, “You look so pretty like that,”
“Like what,” he says, starting to kiss down my neck. He sheds the light jacket I wore, tossing it somewhere over on the floor. His continued kisses, bound to leave marks by tomorrow, threaten to melt my mind. And I just might let him.
“Like I’m the only woman in the world,” I groan, wanting to grab his face and deepen the kisses he places all over my skin.
“Hmm, you are,” Spencer says, turning to face me, “You are the only one to me. The only one by miles,”
Spencer, like always, brings his hands to cover my chin, holding me close as he closes to distance. Kissing Spencer is like kissing him for the second time. Not the first time. The first time is filled with nerves and sweaty palms. But the second time, the second time is when the magic happens. Because when you kiss for the second time, you already know what to expect. You already know the little whimpers of need and whines of pleasure that the other person will make. The second kiss means you know that to expect, but it also means you’re starved for more.
I could ask him how many second kisses he’s had with me. Thousands, perhaps? Spencer would be able to figure it out. He must have realized that my mind is turning, but he pulls back. The sudden lack of his warmth is jarring.
“What are you thinking about, love?'” he asks, still working his mouth across my neck. He moves slowly and languidly, clearly taking his time because he can. I can feel his teeth nip at my pulse point, making my heart skip beats.
“How many times we’ve kissed,” I say, my voice coming out in an exasperated sort of sound that’s borderline desperate.
“Oh,” Spencer says as he runs his hands underneath my shirt, “That’s simple, we average around 8 or 9 kisses a day. That’s 3,285 kisses a year, and given we’ve been together for nearly 15 years, I’d estimate that we’ve kissed 45,990 times,”
“God, only you can make math sound so fucking sexy,” I mumble into the kiss, the words making my teeth clash against Spencer’s teeth in a way that’s not entirely awful. The noise that makes is halfway in between a chuckle and whimper, but whatever it is, it’s making my knees wobble.
“Bed,” Spencer whispers firmly, “Now,” he says, the need and desire in his voice not going unnoticed.
I nod, not dropping his hand as I lie on my back. The pillows cradle my head as I watch Spencer shed his sweater vest. It’s Wisteria Purple, a favorite color of mine on him and probably a creation of my own. As he takes his sweater vest off, his button up and undershirt come undone from his pants. I can see a sliver of his skin and can hardly contain myself as Spencer starts undoing the rest of his shirt.
“Let me,” I say, beckoning him forward with my pointer finger. He listens and I can’t help but add a, “Good boy,” that makes his cheeks tint with embarrassment.
With my legs spread on the bed and Spencer situated in between them, I take a moment to look at him. His face is still his face, but with fifteen more years worth of wrinkles and scraps. I happen to like the wrinkles; thinking that they give him more charm and this dashingly sexy professor thing.
I unbutton the rest of his shirt, letting it hang open with his sleeves rolled up. I lean down, kissing Spencer for who knows what time this weekend. I’m sure by the end of it, both of my lips numb from it.
“How,” Spencer starts, grabbing my hand, the one with my wedding ring, and kissing it, “did,” kiss, “I,” kiss, “get,” kiss, “so,” kiss, “lucky,”
Each kiss fills me with this warmth from the bottom of my toes to each individual strand of hair on my head. It’s like I’m floating in the air, high above the trees. God, if I’m the only woman in the world then Spencer’s certainly the only man.
“I should be the one asking that,” I say, brushing my fingers across his face, “I always knew I was gonna marry you. When I first met you, I knew it. Immediately,” I reveal.
“I was so young back then,” Spencer says, “I didn’t know the first thing about girls or love or being a husband,”
“You were always a very quick learner,” I quip, “About being a good boyfriend and buying me books and other things,” I add, raising my eyebrows suggestively.
Not needing another que, Spencer brings his hands to the waistband of my pants. He looks at me, expecting another sign of affirmation to continue.
“Please,” I say, “God, it’s been so long,”
Spencer laughs. It’s that loud, bellowing sort of laugh that reminds me of how alive I am, “We did this just last week. Yeah, it was quick and in the shower, but-”
“Shh,” I say, pushing my finger against his perfectly pink lips, “It’s far too long for a woman who has a husband that talks a mile a minute and has a incredibly talented tongue,”
Spencer winks before he pulls down my jeans and tosses them on the floor. While he does that I shed my shirt, throwing it down with the other discarded clothing items. Spencer rests on his elbows and starts to kiss the inside of my thighs, already making me squirm at his affections.
“Spence,” I say, grabbing a fistful of his hair, “No teasing,”
His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of my thighs. I can feel his unsteadiness against my body and I want nothing more than to cradle him into my arms. His fingers, deft and nimble, tease me against the fabric of my underwear. He’s so completely in tune to my body at this point and knows exactly what makes me tick. Eventually, he relents, taking off my underwear, but not before kissing me tenderly.
Spencer peppers kissing along my thighs, spreading my legs even further apart. He leaves me completely exposed and I can feel the tiniest bit of stubble on his cheeks against my thighs. Spencer pears at me, his glasses reflecting the low light in the bedroom, smiling. He drags his tongue up my center, effectively making me shudder.
“God, you are so fucking beautiful,” Spencer curses, the uncharacteristic language making me want him more, “And all for me,”
Unable to even form words at this point, Spencer darts his tongue around my clit making a sucking sort of motion that threatens to upend me. His strong hands grip my thighs, holding me completely still and totally at his mercy.
There’s no way, but with his talented tongue circling my clit, that I’d rather be. I buck my hips, desperate for more friction, more tension, more anything, against his face. Spencer grids against the bed, also desperate for more. He groans into my thighs before he looks up, chin slick and licking his lips eagerly.
“No, God, please! Spencer,” I groan, nearly teetering over the edge as Spencer removes his fingers and tongue.
“If you come,” Spencer says, a certain darkness coming across his eyes, “It’s going to be on my cock,”
I can feel him pressed up against me. I’m desperate for the weight of him to rest on top of me, to consume me, devour me. It’s like a part of me at this point. We’ve always found ourselves to be inseparable, but now we’re simply one. All I can manage is a slight nod as I undo my bra. Spencer’s hands cling to my chest, massaging me and leaving kisses against my unkissed skin.
Spencer’s kisses lead up to my neck, my chin and jaw, and my lips. He’s full of fire and passion. I know it’s impossible, but Spencer’s kisses melt my lips. I’d let him ruin me, millions of times, as long as he would be the one to put me together again. He breaks the kiss, standing up to shimmy out of his pants.
My gaze traces over the curve of his lips, the slant of his nose, the little collection of scars that adorn his body. All of it adds up to him. All of it adds up to my perfect Spencer. I sit up in the bed, tracing my fingers around all his marks that make him up. I kiss along the surgical scar where he was shot, the first time I thought he was going to die. I remember how young and naive I was back then, we both were.
He must know I’m thinking about this because his hands snake up to my jaw, gently, yet firmly making me look at him. Spencer’s hair covers his ears, falling in brown curls by his forehead. His glasses are a little askew, probably from moments before, but nonetheless he looks devastatingly beautiful.
“It’s been a pleasure growing up with you,” I whisper, kissing his stomach gently. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, a lipless kiss.
“And it will be a pleasure to grow old with you,” he says, leaning down to kiss me yet again, “I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. More than anyone will ever love anyone,”
It’s impossible to top that, yet I have to try. Because as much as Spencer loves me, he deserves to be loved equally as much.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I tell him, “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine,” I continue, ready to drag him headfirst fearlessly.
“God,” Spencer whispers, “I’m dying for you to fuck me now,” he continues, guiding you down on your back as he kisses fervently against your chest and neck.
“Please, Spencer. I need you to touch me,” I whine into the kiss. My teeth nip at his bottom lip, tugging at it as we separate from the kiss. His wandering hands are rough against my body, making me yearn more for his touch. His kisses, lazy and long, threaten to go on forever. And, if you were to ask me, I would just let him kiss me like this forever.
Spencer sneaks his hands down to my clit, fervently rubbing circles, making me dizzy and delirious off him. I never want this to stop, I want to live it forever and ever, playing it on repeat.
“Do you like that, Y/N?” Spencer asks, a taunting, teasing sort of voice making me burn with need for him, “I think you do, sweetheart,”
“Yes, yes,” I chant, knowing that words will do nothing but fail me at his point, “Spencer, please. I fucking need you,”
I reach down in between where I two bodies meet, stroking his erection. Spencer whines into my shoulder, pressing kisses and the gentlest of bites against my skin. His whimpers are delicious in my ear, making me proud to still be able to make him crumble with the lightest of touches.
“Fuck me,” Spencer says, pleading into my skin, “Please,” he begs, adjusting his legs so I can sit in his lap. He lines himself up with me, letting me sink down on his erection, “Oh, fucking hell,” he whines into another kiss.
“You feel so good, so good, baby,” I praise, the words punctuated by the thrusting of his hips to my center, “You want to fill me up, hmm?”
“Yes,” Spencer cries out, clinging himself closer and closer to my body. His arm wraps around my torso, our sweaty bodies meeting as one, “So, so bad,”
“Yeah,” I coo, squeezing my eyes shut as Spencer’s fingers stimulate my clit in rapid, sloppy circles, “Yeah, you want me to make you a daddy again?”
“Y/N,” Spencer whines, unable to thrust into me. I bounce myself on his erection without mercy, watching as his normally put together exterior falters at my doing, “Please, let me fill you up. Let me, please. Let me get you pregnant, Y/N. I want it, I need it,”
“Do it. Do it, Spencer,” I tell him, bracing my hands against his shoulders. As if spurred on by the very thought of it all, Spencer leans forward, pushing me down on my back. He hooks my legs around his shoulders, opening me up more to him.
“Oh, God,” I cry out at the new sensation, “You feel…you feel so deep,”
Panting, I look at him with wonder. His hair is a complete wreck and his glasses rest against his nose, but he’s never looked more beautiful than he does now. Maybe it’s the emotions of it all, or maybe it’s something else.
“Yeah, that’s right, sweetheart,” he chokes out, his words short and clipping, a testament to his yielding disposition, “You’re dripping for me, my love. All for me. This pussy is all for me,”
I grip his hair, guiding him to my mouth for another kiss. He relents, kissing me deeply and passionately. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but I love it.
I love him.
“I need it, I need it, Spencer,” I call out, my approaching climax making me delirious off him, “I’m going to come, Spencer. Please, I need it,”
“That’s it,” Spencer coos, a certain softness in his voice making me want him to devour me completely. I want his body to be on top of me forever. I want to feel the weight of him on me as I sleep. I want the scent of him on me as I breathe. I want him, no, I need him in every sense of the word, “That’s it, sweetheart,”
His words, soft, yet strong, guide me to climax. I never believed it, but I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the way I twist and writhe under Spencer and the way he stiffens against me.
“Spencer, please,” I cry out, “I love you. God, I fucking love you,”
“That’s it. So good, so good for me,” he praises, brushing the sweaty hair from my face affectionately. He kisses my forehead, “God, I can’t wait to see you carrying my child. So beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” he says, the crudeness of his curses softened by the sweetness of the sentiment. And then it’s dirtied, filthied, but the way he moans into my lips.
“Please, Spencer. Please fill me up. Tell everyone who I belong to,” I cry out, clawing at his back, desperate for him to finish inside of me.
“So spoiled,” Spencer tuts against my skin, “What a spoiled girl, always getting me to come inside of you. Getting you nice and pregnant with my babies,”
“Yes, yes,” I cry, as Spencer’s sloppy thrusts grow more and more uncoordinated, “Come for me, please? Come inside of me, Spencer,”
Spencer’s frantic thrusts slow as he comes undone. He looks beautiful when he finishes, deep inside me. There’s sweat on his brow and his hair is even more wild and unruly. He’s untamed, but tamed only for me. Gently, he lets my legs down with a grimace. He flops down next to me, kissing me with his hands tenderly holding me in place by my jaw.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, Y/N,” Spencer whispers, breaking the kiss ever so slightly. His lips still brush against mine, like butterfly kisses that take flight.
“How do you get more and more beautiful, Spencer?” I whisper, taking his glasses off so he can rest against the pillow.
“That’s the hormones talking,” Spencer replies, “All those endorphins and oxytocin,” he starts, looking skeptically as I shake my head.
“Nope,” I say, sitting up on my elbow, “You’re just beautiful. I don’t need any hormones to know that,”
“That was,” he trails off, choosing to ignore my comments, even now compliments are a hard thing for Spencer Reid to accept, “That was very good,”
“Yes, it was,” I agree with an unabashedly proud smile on my face, “You know we might just need to pick up a pregnancy test on the way home if we continue at the rate we’re going,” I tease, scooting into Spencer’s embrace, “Lemme get cleaned up first though. And dinner, God, I’m starving,”
“If you’re planning on going again,” Spencer starts, grimacing as he sits up, “I’m going to need some Acetaminophen,”
I laugh, sitting up and kissing Spencer’s forehead, “Okay, old man. I’m going to get cleaned up and let’s see if you can figure out how to place an online order,”
Spencer brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear, tucking it in and out of my face. He smiles, softly as he drinks me in. I think to myself that there’s no one else I’d rather be drunk on, but him. There’s a uncertainty that washes over me, it’s not bad, but hopeful. And maybe, I’ll decide to embrace it, along with my perfectly imperfect life. A perfectly imperfect life made even more perfect by the man that sits to my right.
I sigh, thinking about the way Spencer’s hands on my body never fail to make me feel beautiful and desired, “Hey, Spence. How many kisses do we have now?” I ask.
“Well,” he says, turning his head to the side with an air of cockiness, “I’d venture to say we’re north of 46,041,”
“Good,” I say, kissing him yet again, “We just made it, 46,042,”
“And it will never be enough,” Spencer says, “46,043, because,” another kiss, “46,044, infinity isn’t enough with you,”
Kissing him again, I hover over his mouth, our bodies pressed up against each other, “46,045,”
Summary: Happy with their little family, Spencer and Reader think that it might just be time to expand it.
CW: Emotional smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, insecurities, oral sex (F receiving) (18 plus content)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife Reader
Word Count: 6,200
Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this! Remember, all reblogs, comments and notes mean the world to me!
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Infinity and More
Looking back, I’m still unsure of how it all started. Like I’m not sure how one or two choices led to all this imperfectly perfect mess. I love my perfectly imperfect mess, with the colorful toys littered around in the living room, the tiny sneakers that line the entryway wall, and the crayon marks that never seem to come off the walls.
I adore the toys and the sneakers and the crayon markers because it all comes together into our perfectly imperfect life we’ve made. Pictures line the walls and the smiling faces of my children and husband beam down on me. I like to look at them, seeing how Spencer and I age ever so slightly through the years. While Spencer and I’ve only changed a little bit, new glasses and hairstyles, our children grow into adorable little people who are perfect combinations of us both.
Nearly a decade and two children later, it would be safe to say that our family is complete. Maybe in a couple years the kids will beg for a dog and, of course, Spencer will join in on the begging. And, of course, I won’t be able to resist any of them.
Spencer leans against the doorway of the kitchen, still looking handsomely sleepy. He watches me and I pretend to not know he’s standing there.
It’s a Saturday. Which means bringing Auggie to chess at the public library and making sure Florence has her gear ready for softball. It’s a small enough task and there’s a certain serenity in knowing that in a couple hours the chaos of our house will all be gone and all that will remain is the comforting quiet of silence. It’s something rare in the house and, as much as I adore my children, I know I’m going to savor the quiet.
“The quiet before the storm,” Spencer says, as he walks over to the counter. I smile softly at him, enjoying the way that his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. He’s lucky that he can look so effortlessly handsome this early in the morning. His white tee shirt is discolored with bleach and rumpled slightly, but somehow he makes it work, along with his pajama pants to sit dangerously low on his hips.
“You look like you slept well,” I muse, reaching to grab a mug from a high shelf. Spencer reaches along with me, brushing his fingers against the back of my hand, slightly telling that he’s got it, “Thanks,”
Spencer smiles back at me, setting the mug on the counter. He kisses my forehead quickly through a smile. “Of course,”
“I thought you’d try to sleep in. You don’t have to take August to chess till noon,”
“Well I woke up and you weren’t there,” Spencer says, taking the coffee pot and pouring me a mug, “And I missed you,”
Laughing deliciously, drunk on the lack of sleep and Spencer’s kisses, “You missed me? We spent the whole night together,”
Spencer nods sheepishly, ducking his head and twisting his body into a hug. I welcome it, eager to feel his body against my body. The steadiness of his heartbeat is soothing. There isn’t another body, besides my own, that I know better than Spencer’s. I know the way his heart skips beats when he gets nervous, the way his cheeks blush at my touches, and the way his eyes dart around my body when I’m close.
“Hmm. It’s never enough with you,” Spencer says sweetly. He breathes in my scent, nose and breath tickling my neck. He, after all these years, makes my skin tingle with anticipation.
The sweetest and tenderness of the moment, suddenly, is gone. The pair of steamy coffees are neglected on the counter. His hands are holding my face still as he looks at me like he wants to devour me. Spencer eyes are a mixture of light honey brown and a cool green. It’s my favorite color because it’s so effortlessly Spencer. Or maybe it’s my favorite color because it’s what love looks like to me.
Spencer tastes like coffee. His skin is still warm from sleep and his hands find their rightful place on my waist. He grabs bunches of my shirt, his shirt actually, as he kisses me with more fervor. I start to feel something burn inside. Eagerness. Desire. Need. Love. All of it circles me, making me dizzy off the taste of his hazelnut coffee and vanilla creamer.
“Mommy! Mommy! Daddy! Dad-”
The little voices are heard before their even smaller bodies materialize. Dressed in mismatching pajamas, the kids bound into the kitchen full of glee. Spencer smiles into the kiss, nipping my bottom lip with his teeth. I scrunch my nose at the interruption, allowing myself to have a selfish moment to be annoyed at my children.
“What are you doing to Mommy?” Florence says, walking towards Spencer and tugging on his shirt. She looks up at him, her eyes exact copies of her father’s eyes. They’re the same honey brown and the same cool green.
“Kissing her,” Spencer says, brushing Florence’s hair from her forehead, “Good morning, Florrie,” he says, kissing the top of her head.
“Why?” Auggie says, appearing, as always, on his sister’s heels, “It’s icky,” he says, making a face that causes him and Florence to burst into a fit of unstoppable giggles.
“Because she’s so pretty,” Spencer says, winking at me and kissing my cheek. He effectively causes the children to roar with laughter.
“So you kiss girls because they're pretty?” Auggie says, a curious wonder appearing on his face not unlike his father’s own countenance, “That’s really silly,”
“Auggie,” I say, exhaling an exasperated sigh, “Baby, you don’t need to worry about kissing anyone for a really long time,” I tell him, ruffling his curly brown hair.
“Okay that’s good,” he says, nodding his little head with worry, “Can Daddy make waffles?” he asks, looking up expectantly from me to Spencer with wide eyes.
Florence chimes in with an eager “Please!”
Spencer, whose cheeks are still a tinged pink from kissing, leans against the kitchen counter watching his family. It’s moments like these that make me grateful for all life’s thrown at us, even if it’s a little sappy. And, at this moment, I have a feeling Spencer’s thinking the same thing.
“Of course,” Spencer says, “And maybe if you ask your mom really nice she’ll let you decorate them with whipped cream and sprinkles,”
Over the resounding chorus of squeaky pleases and chants of Mom and Mommy, please, I look over at the kitchen table with Spencer, Florence, and August and think that there just might be enough room for one more.
“A date weekend?” Spencer asks, nearly tripping over Florence’s science kit as he throws himself down on the couch, “At a hotel?”
“Yeah,” I say, running my fingers through Spencer’s hair, “And what’s with all the questions? Don’t you want a date night with your wife?”
“Of course I do,” Spencer says, “It’s just been a long time since it’s been the two of us. We’re busy. And the kids are just getting busier,”
“I know,” I say sympathetically, “Penelope said she’ll sleep over and you know it will be nice to do certain adult things that we can’t quite do when there’s two little people with the best hearing in the world the next room over,”
“Oh,” Spencer says, burning his head into my lap, “Yeah, I mean. I’m not going to say not to that,” he says, turning his face to smile up at me.
He’s really beautiful like this. His hair falls into his face like dominos. His nose scrunches up in an innocent sort of embarrassment that makes my heart soar. His wire-rimmed glass reflects the little reading light, making him look somehow both young and older at the same time.
“And you know we do have enough bedrooms for another one,” I say, wincing protectively for Spencer to respond. When he doesn’t say anything for a moment and then another, and makes me wonder if I read everything all wrong. He left all these little hints. From him musing about how cute baby clothes look in the clothing store, to him sending me pictures of Auggie’s first birthday, to him talking to everyone and anyone about how great his kids are, I think, as the moments pass by, I read this so wrong.
“You want another baby?” Spencer asks, an unreadable tone in his voice causing me to pause, “Reall?” he says, and the quiver in his voice tells me everything I need to know.
“Yeah,” I say, loosening Spencer’s tie as he rests with his feet hanging over the arm of the couch and his head in my lap, “I mean, we make really cool kids. Look at Florrie, she’s so smart. She devours book after book. You know I caught her the other night using her alarm clock to read after lights out. I mean, she’s just a little sponge,” I continue, feeling pure love course through my veins as I talk about my wonderfully sweet and smart children.
“Auggie’s all you,” Spencer says, playing with my hands. He laces my fingers in with his fingers, unable to not touch you, “And well, Florrie is all you too. But Auggie’s kind and caring and he’s an excellent chess player,”
“Ha! So you admit it. I’m a better chess player than you!”
I love it when Spencer laughs. It’s this sound that’s full of love and life and everything good and warm in this world. Laughter, with Spencer, is completely contagious. It’s impossible for me to maintain a straight face when he laughs. He’s always, ever since I've known him, had an uncanny ability to crack my facade. Maybe not crack, but melt.
“Shhh, you’re being way too loud,” I hush him, letting him kiss in hands in protest, “I just put those mangy kids to sleep, don’t wake them up now,”
“So no chance to wake them up for a hug and a quick story?” Spencer asks, peering up at me through his glasses.
“Not at all. Because if they see you they’ll want three stories each with different voices. And then they’ll convince us to let them into our bed. They’re mangly little monsters, Spencer,” I say, hardly able to resist rolling my eyes at Spencer’s pout.
“Yes, but they are our mangy little monsters that are actually really adorable. Especially when they sleep. You know how Auggie does that thing when he rubs his infant blanket between his fingers for comfort? Or how Florrie will try to steal your shirts because she says it’s like getting a constant hug from you?”
I lean down so my lips reach Spencer’s forehead. Gently, I place a kiss on his forehead, chuckling lightly at the soft sigh that Spencer lets out. It’s a sound of complete comfort and trust.
“We got pretty cute kids,” I remind him, reaching over and tugging off the lamp on the reading table, “Let’s get you to bed, old man. Before you fall asleep on my lap,”
Spencer, groaning dramatically, slowly sits up next to me on the couch. He leans in, gently resting his hand on my jaw. His long fingers reach up to my ear and the base of his palm tickles my chin. I’ve always felt safe when he kissed me like this; hands cradling me like I’m something precious.
“I’m not old,” Spencer says, grimacing as he tries to sit, “Well maybe I’m as limber as I used to be. But you certainly are, or at least we’ll see that over the weekend,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
“God, you’re such a dork,” I tease, standing up from the couch. I grab my books in one hand and with the other I help Spencer up from the couch.
“Yeah, a dork that can make you come-” he starts a teasing sort of voice making my cheeks heat in the dark.
“Spencer!” I shriek, his laughter ringing through the living room as he follows me up the stairs, “You’re insatiable,”
“Only for you, darling,” Spencer says, grabbing my hand as we walk up the stairs to the bedroom. His voice drops low as we walk by the bedrooms where sleeping children rest.
“So we’re going to do this?” he asks, “Try for another?”
I nod immediately, not having to have a moment of hesitation for a decision like this. Spencer flops onto the bed, already sprawled out, still in his work clothes. He grimaces when I flip on the switch, letting the bright light flood the dark room.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, sliding into the spot next to him. I rest my head on his shoulder and kiss the spot in between his ear and neck, “I think the kids are old enough, but it won’t be too big of an age gap. And I’ll be able to take some time off work too,”
“Maybe I’ll go to academia full time. You know, leave the BAU,” Spencer says, clearly thinking aloud. He must know what I’m going to say next because he answers my question before I can even ask, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. There’s a full time position available for a Chemistry professor on a tenure track at Mary Washington. Maybe I should take it?”
“It would be really nice to have you at home before the kids go to sleep,” I say, kissing Spencer’s forehead, “But I know it will be hard to leave the BAU,”
“I don’t know,” Spencer whispers. I can just picture the sad smile that must be on his face, “I’ll miss seeing the team. I’ll miss helping people that need it. But I won’t miss thinking I’m never going to see you every time I get on that plane. Or every time I put on a vest,”
“It’s okay to be sad. It’s a really big chapter in your life that’s gonna close. It’s okay to be sad, baby,” I whisper into Spencer’s ear, kissing his soft skin with a whole lot of love and tenderness.
“But I’ll be very happy to know that the only time you’ll be getting on planes is to go to family vacations and the only vests you wear are my horrible crocheted ones,”
“I love your sweater vests,” Spencer says quietly, “And I think the BAU will prepare me for family vacations for three children,”
“Getting ahead of yourself there, racer,” I tease, sitting up in bed.
“Actually,” Spencer says, resting on his elbow, “I was going to say four or five, but I didn’t want to scare you off,”
“Dork,” I tease, slipping off the bed and dropping my sweater to the ground. Spencer’s gaze dips to my bare arms and I swear that he gulps at the sight of me, “Well, I’m going to go shower. You know, if you’re interested and all,”
Turning to the attached bathroom, I smile as I hear the bed creek and feel Spencer brush by me beating me to the bathroom.
“Woah. Now this is really nice,” Spencer says, running his fingers along the leather-bound copies of books in the small library, “I guess I was right in getting an AirBnB over a hotel room. It feels more like a home,”
I nod, unzipping my backpack for the weekend. Spencer already finds himself in vacation mode, probably moments away from pulling out the nearest book and cracking it open. On the drive up, it was so quiet with just the two of us. But it was a good kind of quiet because silence with Spencer sometimes says more than the noise.
“So, we have enough groceries with us to make dinner here tonight. Or can we order in?” I say, sitting on the arm of the chair that Spencer claimed. He wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his head against my chest and sighing deeply as I toy with his hair.
“Hmm, whatever you want,” Spencer says, “Pizza, Thai, Indian. All three because, you know I get hungry after marathon sex. Especially marathon sex in the middle of a woods in a lonely cabin, without children in the next room or noise travelers,”
“Good idea, Spence. Neither of us are going to want to cook afterwards,” I tell him, a sudden shyness overcoming me, “Is it silly if I say that I’m a little nervous. It is silly, right?”
“I get nervous whenever you walk into a room, Y/N,” Spencer confesses, “And it’s not because being close to you triggers my anxiety or whatever. Just being in the room with you makes me feel all these emotions all at once. It makes the hair on my arms stand up straight. It makes me feel like a teenager with a secret crush. It makes me feel fucking alive. And I love you, so if you’re nervous, that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything like that. We can just order in and watch movies that we’ve missed for the last 8 years,”
“No, no,” I say, “I want to have sex tonight, Spencer. It’s just, sometimes I think I forget I’m not the same 22 year old that you fell in love with all those years ago. I’ve changed. I’m bigger than I used to be and I have new marks that weren’t always there. I’m different, and I’m not sure if it’s a good different,”
Spencer doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the words sink in and giving it time to settle.
“It’s the best kind of different there is,”
“Yeah. You’re just saying that because you have to,” I mumble, bringing my hands to cover my eyes to brush away the hot tears that fall down my cheeks, “You’re my husband. So-”
“So I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the room. In every room. In all the rooms. And yeah, you’ve changed in fifteen years. I’ve changed in fifteen years. God, you know that more than anyone, sweetheart,”
“Yeah and you’ve only gotten more and more handsome, Spencer. It’s actually a little ridiculous,” I tease, wanting to make light of the conversation that seems to be getting more and more intense.
“And think about how I feel about you,” Spencer whispers, dragging me from the arm of the chair to share the seat with him, “And you being the most beautiful, stunning woman in the world is least interesting thing about you,”
“You really know how to sweet talk a girl,” I say, leaning in so my lips brush against his when I talk, “And all this talk about how I’m so pretty and whatever, is making me want to fuck you. Right now,”
“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes and wandering hands making me yelp with glee as he follows me into the bedroom.
There’s a full length mirror in the bedroom. When I walk in, I can see Spencer standing behind me. He walks up towards me, hooking his arms with my arms. His chin rests comfortably on my shoulder and his hair tickles my chin. I’m not sure how long he stands there, staring at me and at him the full length mirror with a brass perimeter, but it’s seconds I know I’m never going to forget.
“Spence,” I whisper, looking at his eyes through the mirror. It’s still early evening, have the entire night and rest of the weekend to spend together, “You look so pretty like that,”
“Like what,” he says, starting to kiss down my neck. He sheds the light jacket I wore, tossing it somewhere over on the floor. His continued kisses, bound to leave marks by tomorrow, threaten to melt my mind. And I just might let him.
“Like I’m the only woman in the world,” I groan, wanting to grab his face and deepen the kisses he places all over my skin.
“Hmm, you are,” Spencer says, turning to face me, “You are the only one to me. The only one by miles,”
Spencer, like always, brings his hands to cover my chin, holding me close as he closes to distance. Kissing Spencer is like kissing him for the second time. Not the first time. The first time is filled with nerves and sweaty palms. But the second time, the second time is when the magic happens. Because when you kiss for the second time, you already know what to expect. You already know the little whimpers of need and whines of pleasure that the other person will make. The second kiss means you know that to expect, but it also means you’re starved for more.
I could ask him how many second kisses he’s had with me. Thousands, perhaps? Spencer would be able to figure it out. He must have realized that my mind is turning, but he pulls back. The sudden lack of his warmth is jarring.
“What are you thinking about, love?'” he asks, still working his mouth across my neck. He moves slowly and languidly, clearly taking his time because he can. I can feel his teeth nip at my pulse point, making my heart skip beats.
“How many times we’ve kissed,” I say, my voice coming out in an exasperated sort of sound that’s borderline desperate.
“Oh,” Spencer says as he runs his hands underneath my shirt, “That’s simple, we average around 8 or 9 kisses a day. That’s 3,285 kisses a year, and given we’ve been together for nearly 15 years, I’d estimate that we’ve kissed 45,990 times,”
“God, only you can make math sound so fucking sexy,” I mumble into the kiss, the words making my teeth clash against Spencer’s teeth in a way that’s not entirely awful. The noise that makes is halfway in between a chuckle and whimper, but whatever it is, it’s making my knees wobble.
“Bed,” Spencer whispers firmly, “Now,” he says, the need and desire in his voice not going unnoticed.
I nod, not dropping his hand as I lie on my back. The pillows cradle my head as I watch Spencer shed his sweater vest. It’s Wisteria Purple, a favorite color of mine on him and probably a creation of my own. As he takes his sweater vest off, his button up and undershirt come undone from his pants. I can see a sliver of his skin and can hardly contain myself as Spencer starts undoing the rest of his shirt.
“Let me,” I say, beckoning him forward with my pointer finger. He listens and I can’t help but add a, “Good boy,” that makes his cheeks tint with embarrassment.
With my legs spread on the bed and Spencer situated in between them, I take a moment to look at him. His face is still his face, but with fifteen more years worth of wrinkles and scraps. I happen to like the wrinkles; thinking that they give him more charm and this dashingly sexy professor thing.
I unbutton the rest of his shirt, letting it hang open with his sleeves rolled up. I lean down, kissing Spencer for who knows what time this weekend. I’m sure by the end of it, both of my lips numb from it.
“How,” Spencer starts, grabbing my hand, the one with my wedding ring, and kissing it, “did,” kiss, “I,” kiss, “get,” kiss, “so,” kiss, “lucky,”
Each kiss fills me with this warmth from the bottom of my toes to each individual strand of hair on my head. It’s like I’m floating in the air, high above the trees. God, if I’m the only woman in the world then Spencer’s certainly the only man.
“I should be the one asking that,” I say, brushing my fingers across his face, “I always knew I was gonna marry you. When I first met you, I knew it. Immediately,” I reveal.
“I was so young back then,” Spencer says, “I didn’t know the first thing about girls or love or being a husband,”
“You were always a very quick learner,” I quip, “About being a good boyfriend and buying me books and other things,” I add, raising my eyebrows suggestively.
Not needing another que, Spencer brings his hands to the waistband of my pants. He looks at me, expecting another sign of affirmation to continue.
“Please,” I say, “God, it’s been so long,”
Spencer laughs. It’s that loud, bellowing sort of laugh that reminds me of how alive I am, “We did this just last week. Yeah, it was quick and in the shower, but-”
“Shh,” I say, pushing my finger against his perfectly pink lips, “It’s far too long for a woman who has a husband that talks a mile a minute and has a incredibly talented tongue,”
Spencer winks before he pulls down my jeans and tosses them on the floor. While he does that I shed my shirt, throwing it down with the other discarded clothing items. Spencer rests on his elbows and starts to kiss the inside of my thighs, already making me squirm at his affections.
“Spence,” I say, grabbing a fistful of his hair, “No teasing,”
His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of my thighs. I can feel his unsteadiness against my body and I want nothing more than to cradle him into my arms. His fingers, deft and nimble, tease me against the fabric of my underwear. He’s so completely in tune to my body at this point and knows exactly what makes me tick. Eventually, he relents, taking off my underwear, but not before kissing me tenderly.
Spencer peppers kissing along my thighs, spreading my legs even further apart. He leaves me completely exposed and I can feel the tiniest bit of stubble on his cheeks against my thighs. Spencer pears at me, his glasses reflecting the low light in the bedroom, smiling. He drags his tongue up my center, effectively making me shudder.
“God, you are so fucking beautiful,” Spencer curses, the uncharacteristic language making me want him more, “And all for me,”
Unable to even form words at this point, Spencer darts his tongue around my clit making a sucking sort of motion that threatens to upend me. His strong hands grip my thighs, holding me completely still and totally at his mercy.
There’s no way, but with his talented tongue circling my clit, that I’d rather be. I buck my hips, desperate for more friction, more tension, more anything, against his face. Spencer grids against the bed, also desperate for more. He groans into my thighs before he looks up, chin slick and licking his lips eagerly.
“No, God, please! Spencer,” I groan, nearly teetering over the edge as Spencer removes his fingers and tongue.
“If you come,” Spencer says, a certain darkness coming across his eyes, “It’s going to be on my cock,”
I can feel him pressed up against me. I’m desperate for the weight of him to rest on top of me, to consume me, devour me. It’s like a part of me at this point. We’ve always found ourselves to be inseparable, but now we’re simply one. All I can manage is a slight nod as I undo my bra. Spencer’s hands cling to my chest, massaging me and leaving kisses against my unkissed skin.
Spencer’s kisses lead up to my neck, my chin and jaw, and my lips. He’s full of fire and passion. I know it’s impossible, but Spencer’s kisses melt my lips. I’d let him ruin me, millions of times, as long as he would be the one to put me together again. He breaks the kiss, standing up to shimmy out of his pants.
My gaze traces over the curve of his lips, the slant of his nose, the little collection of scars that adorn his body. All of it adds up to him. All of it adds up to my perfect Spencer. I sit up in the bed, tracing my fingers around all his marks that make him up. I kiss along the surgical scar where he was shot, the first time I thought he was going to die. I remember how young and naive I was back then, we both were.
He must know I’m thinking about this because his hands snake up to my jaw, gently, yet firmly making me look at him. Spencer’s hair covers his ears, falling in brown curls by his forehead. His glasses are a little askew, probably from moments before, but nonetheless he looks devastatingly beautiful.
“It’s been a pleasure growing up with you,” I whisper, kissing his stomach gently. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, a lipless kiss.
“And it will be a pleasure to grow old with you,” he says, leaning down to kiss me yet again, “I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. More than anyone will ever love anyone,”
It’s impossible to top that, yet I have to try. Because as much as Spencer loves me, he deserves to be loved equally as much.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I tell him, “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine,” I continue, ready to drag him headfirst fearlessly.
“God,” Spencer whispers, “I’m dying for you to fuck me now,” he continues, guiding you down on your back as he kisses fervently against your chest and neck.
“Please, Spencer. I need you to touch me,” I whine into the kiss. My teeth nip at his bottom lip, tugging at it as we separate from the kiss. His wandering hands are rough against my body, making me yearn more for his touch. His kisses, lazy and long, threaten to go on forever. And, if you were to ask me, I would just let him kiss me like this forever.
Spencer sneaks his hands down to my clit, fervently rubbing circles, making me dizzy and delirious off him. I never want this to stop, I want to live it forever and ever, playing it on repeat.
“Do you like that, Y/N?” Spencer asks, a taunting, teasing sort of voice making me burn with need for him, “I think you do, sweetheart,”
“Yes, yes,” I chant, knowing that words will do nothing but fail me at his point, “Spencer, please. I fucking need you,”
I reach down in between where I two bodies meet, stroking his erection. Spencer whines into my shoulder, pressing kisses and the gentlest of bites against my skin. His whimpers are delicious in my ear, making me proud to still be able to make him crumble with the lightest of touches.
“Fuck me,” Spencer says, pleading into my skin, “Please,” he begs, adjusting his legs so I can sit in his lap. He lines himself up with me, letting me sink down on his erection, “Oh, fucking hell,” he whines into another kiss.
“You feel so good, so good, baby,” I praise, the words punctuated by the thrusting of his hips to my center, “You want to fill me up, hmm?”
“Yes,” Spencer cries out, clinging himself closer and closer to my body. His arm wraps around my torso, our sweaty bodies meeting as one, “So, so bad,”
“Yeah,” I coo, squeezing my eyes shut as Spencer’s fingers stimulate my clit in rapid, sloppy circles, “Yeah, you want me to make you a daddy again?”
“Y/N,” Spencer whines, unable to thrust into me. I bounce myself on his erection without mercy, watching as his normally put together exterior falters at my doing, “Please, let me fill you up. Let me, please. Let me get you pregnant, Y/N. I want it, I need it,”
“Do it. Do it, Spencer,” I tell him, bracing my hands against his shoulders. As if spurred on by the very thought of it all, Spencer leans forward, pushing me down on my back. He hooks my legs around his shoulders, opening me up more to him.
“Oh, God,” I cry out at the new sensation, “You feel…you feel so deep,”
Panting, I look at him with wonder. His hair is a complete wreck and his glasses rest against his nose, but he’s never looked more beautiful than he does now. Maybe it’s the emotions of it all, or maybe it’s something else.
“Yeah, that’s right, sweetheart,” he chokes out, his words short and clipping, a testament to his yielding disposition, “You’re dripping for me, my love. All for me. This pussy is all for me,”
I grip his hair, guiding him to my mouth for another kiss. He relents, kissing me deeply and passionately. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but I love it.
I love him.
“I need it, I need it, Spencer,” I call out, my approaching climax making me delirious off him, “I’m going to come, Spencer. Please, I need it,”
“That’s it,” Spencer coos, a certain softness in his voice making me want him to devour me completely. I want his body to be on top of me forever. I want to feel the weight of him on me as I sleep. I want the scent of him on me as I breathe. I want him, no, I need him in every sense of the word, “That’s it, sweetheart,”
His words, soft, yet strong, guide me to climax. I never believed it, but I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the way I twist and writhe under Spencer and the way he stiffens against me.
“Spencer, please,” I cry out, “I love you. God, I fucking love you,”
“That’s it. So good, so good for me,” he praises, brushing the sweaty hair from my face affectionately. He kisses my forehead, “God, I can’t wait to see you carrying my child. So beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” he says, the crudeness of his curses softened by the sweetness of the sentiment. And then it’s dirtied, filthied, but the way he moans into my lips.
“Please, Spencer. Please fill me up. Tell everyone who I belong to,” I cry out, clawing at his back, desperate for him to finish inside of me.
“So spoiled,” Spencer tuts against my skin, “What a spoiled girl, always getting me to come inside of you. Getting you nice and pregnant with my babies,”
“Yes, yes,” I cry, as Spencer’s sloppy thrusts grow more and more uncoordinated, “Come for me, please? Come inside of me, Spencer,”
Spencer’s frantic thrusts slow as he comes undone. He looks beautiful when he finishes, deep inside me. There’s sweat on his brow and his hair is even more wild and unruly. He’s untamed, but tamed only for me. Gently, he lets my legs down with a grimace. He flops down next to me, kissing me with his hands tenderly holding me in place by my jaw.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, Y/N,” Spencer whispers, breaking the kiss ever so slightly. His lips still brush against mine, like butterfly kisses that take flight.
“How do you get more and more beautiful, Spencer?” I whisper, taking his glasses off so he can rest against the pillow.
“That’s the hormones talking,” Spencer replies, “All those endorphins and oxytocin,” he starts, looking skeptically as I shake my head.
“Nope,” I say, sitting up on my elbow, “You’re just beautiful. I don’t need any hormones to know that,”
“That was,” he trails off, choosing to ignore my comments, even now compliments are a hard thing for Spencer Reid to accept, “That was very good,”
“Yes, it was,” I agree with an unabashedly proud smile on my face, “You know we might just need to pick up a pregnancy test on the way home if we continue at the rate we’re going,” I tease, scooting into Spencer’s embrace, “Lemme get cleaned up first though. And dinner, God, I’m starving,”
“If you’re planning on going again,” Spencer starts, grimacing as he sits up, “I’m going to need some Acetaminophen,”
I laugh, sitting up and kissing Spencer’s forehead, “Okay, old man. I’m going to get cleaned up and let’s see if you can figure out how to place an online order,”
Spencer brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear, tucking it in and out of my face. He smiles, softly as he drinks me in. I think to myself that there’s no one else I’d rather be drunk on, but him. There’s a uncertainty that washes over me, it’s not bad, but hopeful. And maybe, I’ll decide to embrace it, along with my perfectly imperfect life. A perfectly imperfect life made even more perfect by the man that sits to my right.
I sigh, thinking about the way Spencer’s hands on my body never fail to make me feel beautiful and desired, “Hey, Spence. How many kisses do we have now?” I ask.
“Well,” he says, turning his head to the side with an air of cockiness, “I’d venture to say we’re north of 46,041,”
“Good,” I say, kissing him yet again, “We just made it, 46,042,”
“And it will never be enough,” Spencer says, “46,043, because,” another kiss, “46,044, infinity isn’t enough with you,”
Kissing him again, I hover over his mouth, our bodies pressed up against each other, “46,045,”
