The Sugar Spence Saga || Spencer Agnew
Summary: Spencer Agnew can’t catch a break. It starts with a fancy water bottle and a soft hoodie, but by the time he walks into the Smosh office in limited-edition sneakers, the cast has decided there’s only one explanation: Spencer has a sugar mommy. The teasing hits peak chaos when you pull up to pick him up in a sleek, expensive car, confirming all their suspicions… and giving Spencer a new nickname he may never live down.
Pairing: Spencer Agnew x f!reader
Tropes: teasing as affection. embarrassed boyfriend, smug partner. chaos crew.
Warnings: not proofread, teasing, sugar baby mentions, light comedy
WC: 1.7k
Author's Note: Spencer deserves to be pampered and babied. This is strictly self-indulgent even tho Spencer makes more than I do (life of a part-time retail worker)
It started small.
A new water bottle here. A jacket there. Nothing flashy—just practical, nice quality stuff that could’ve been bought anywhere. If you didn’t know brands, you wouldn’t think twice.
But the Smosh crew knew brands.
It was Courtney who noticed first, eyeing the sleek black thermos Spencer started carrying on set one morning. “That thing looks…expensive,” she said casually, turning it in her hands. “Is this…designer? For water?”
Spencer shrugged. “It was a gift.”
Nobody thought much of it. Until the next week, when Spencer walked in wearing a hoodie softer than anyone had ever seen, the kind of fabric that screamed “stupidly overpriced boutique.”
“Another gift?” Shayne asked, squinting.
And then… came the shoes.
Spencer played it off, “It was cold.”
Spencer strolled into the office, headphones around his neck, coffee in hand, same soft “I’m here but please don’t make this loud” energy as always. But today, Shayne stopped mid-conversation, finger already pointing at Spencer’s feet.
“Spencer, my man. Those are new.”
Everyone turned.
Spencer froze like a deer in headlights. “Uh. Yeah. I… needed a new pair?”
Angela crouched a little, inspecting the sneakers before slowly straightening back up. She squinted—not sure if it was because she couldn’t see the price tag from this distance or because Spencer’s excuse was just that flimsy. “Are those… limited editions? The ones that sold out in, like, fifteen seconds?”
Courtney gasped so dramatically that you thought she might faint. “Are you secretly a sneakerhead?!”
Spencer’s hoodie bunched around his ears like he was trying to retreat inside it. “They were a gift.”
A beat of silence.
Then Tommy slid into the doorway, coffee in hand, wearing the smuggest grin known to man. “From… a sugar mommy?”
Spencer’s head whipped around. “Excuse me?”
Angela grinned, standing back up. “It would explain the sudden drip.”
Courtney jumped in immediately. “Oh my God, it makes so much sense! Think about it: He doesn’t blink at overpriced studio coffee, he’s got those fancy headphones, the hoodie, and now this? Spencer is a kept man.”
“I’m not—” Spencer started, but Shayne cut him off with a sing-song, “Sugar baby confirmed.”
The entire break room erupted into laughter as Spencer groaned and buried his face in his hoodie, silently questioning all of his life choices.
By lunch, the teasing had evolved into a full-blown investigation.
Damien leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee with all the exaggerated casualness of someone about to cause problems. “So… hypothetically,” he began, drawing the word out, “if someone was, let’s say, funding your lifestyle, what would you call them?”
Spencer didn’t even look up from his sandwich. “…A generous person?”
Courtney, from across the room, perked up immediately. “A sugar mommy.”
Shayne, louder, practically announcing it to the whole studio: “SUGAR. MOMMY.”
Spencer sighed, “It’s not like that.”
Tommy, now fully invested, poked his head through the doorway like a nosy sitcom neighbor. “Guys, it gets worse. I checked—he’s got AirPods Pro now. I heard him noise-canceling us this morning.”
Angela slid into the room, pointing at Spencer’s hoodie sleeve. “And don’t think we haven’t noticed this thing. That’s what, cashmere? Baby alpaca? What kind of hoodie whispers luxury like that?”
Damien swirled his coffee like a detective connecting conspiracy threads. “I’m starting to think we should be curtsying when she finally shows up. Or at least offer her a gift basket.”
“Gift basket?” Shayne snorted. “Nah, we’re asking for allowances.”
Courtney leaned against the counter, smirking. “Alright, Spence. No judgment. Just blink twice if she bought you the AirPods and three times if we’re getting invited on the yacht.”
Spencer groaned and dropped his head on the table, voice muffled by his hoodie. “I buy my own coffee.”
“Sure you do, Sugar Spence,” Shayne said, patting him on the back like this was a support group.
Angela grinned. “So, when do we get to meet her?”
“Alright,” Shayne says dramatically into the mic, “welcome back to ‘Most Likely To...’ Smosh edition! Where we hold absolutely no secrets, no shame, and no mercy.”
Spencer didn’t answer. Which, of course, made it worse.
----
The cast cheers half-heartedly, already bracing for emotional damage.
Courtney spins a small whiteboard in her hands. “Today’s first prompt: Most likely to have a sugar mommy and pretend it’s totally normal.”
Before Spencer can blink, everyone in the room holds up their boards.
Spencer blinks. “Wait—wait, is this still happening?”
Every. Single. One.
Reads: SPENCER.
Angela doesn’t even try to hide her laugh. “Still? Babe, we just got started.”
Tommy points at his board, where he’s drawn a tiny crown over Spencer’s name. “Our boy’s got that luxury minimalist look lately. Rich girlfriend core.”
Spencer glares down the line. “I’ve literally worn this hoodie for three years.”
Shayne gasps, scandalized. “Three years of silken comfort, you mean. Is that alpaca?”
Courtney’s eyes gleam. “Say ‘no’ again but louder, Spencer. Louder for the yacht!”
Spencer slaps his whiteboard face-down and leans into the mic. “This is slander. Defamation. I’ve never even been on a yacht.”
Angela points, grinning. “That sounds exactly like what someone with yacht access would say.”
Laughter erupts around him, and Spencer buries his face in his hands, muttering, “I’m going to kill Tommy for starting this.”
Tommy grins wide. “I only said what we were all thinking.”
The camera cut to Shayne mid-laugh as the chaos died down. He glanced straight into the lens, his expression somewhere between faux-serious and fully amused.
“No, but in all seriousness, we love our Sugar Spence,” Shayne said, hand on his heart in mock sincerity. “We support him. We just want to meet his mysterious Patron Saint of Expensive Footwear.”
He was clearly addressing the fans directly — the exact audience who would see this clip if (and only if) Spencer didn’t demand it be cut.
From off-screen, Courtney yelled, “Leave that in!” while Angela whispered dramatically, “The fans deserve the truth!”
Spencer groaned, tugging his hoodie over his head like a turtle retreating into its shell. “This is harassment. Actual workplace harassment.”
Tommy just grinned at the camera. “Like and subscribe if you also want to meet her.”
The teasing had been relentless all week. Between the shoes, the AirPods, the hoodie that apparently “whispered luxury,” and the sugar mommy jokes escalating into actual fan theories after that last video, Spencer was officially done.
He just wanted to leave. Quietly.
So naturally, the entire cast was camped out near the front door when he clocked out for the day.
Courtney leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grinning like she’d just set up a hidden camera prank. “So… what’s she driving? Tesla? Maserati? Helicopter?”
Angela shaded her eyes like she was scanning the horizon. “Private jet’s landing any second now.”
Tommy cupped his hands around his mouth. “ATTENTION, WE’RE READY FOR OUR ALLOWANCES!”
Spencer groaned and shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “You all need new hobbies.”
That’s when the sleek, black car pulled up.
Not over-the-top flashy, but definitely expensive — the kind of car that purred rather than rumbled, all polished lines and tinted windows. The cast immediately straightened like meerkats.
“Called it,” Shayne muttered under his breath.
The passenger-side window rolled down, and there you were, smiling casually at Spencer. “Hey, babe. Ready to go?”
Without a word, Spencer walked over, opened the passenger-side door, and slid into the seat. Only once the door was shut did he lean over to press a quick kiss to your lips. He clearly didn’t notice (or care about) the six pairs of stunned eyes glued to you both.
Courtney, whisper-shouting, “SHE’S REAL.”
Angela elbowed Tommy. “Pay up. I said definitely hot, you said probably an alien.”
Tommy, muttering, “Still not ruling out alien.”
Spencer leaned out the open window, deadpan. “She’s my girlfriend, not my sugar mommy.”
You smirked, resting your chin on your hand. “Girlfriend who occasionally buys him sneakers. And maybe hoodies. And coffee. And—”
“Not helping,” Spencer cut in, glaring at you with pink cheeks.
Damien waved from the curb. “So, uh… do we need to curtsy? Or are allowances only for the favorite sugar baby?”
You rolled your eyes but reached out to lace your fingers with Spencer’s over the center console. “No allowances. But maybe I’ll buy you all coffee one day if you stop bullying him.”
Shayne immediately yelled, “SHE’S A SAINT. LONG LIVE PATRON SAINT OF EXPENSIVE FOOTWEAR!”
Spencer groaned and buried his face in his hands as you pulled away, laughing. “This is my life now.”
----
Spencer was sprawled on the couch, hoodie hood pulled so far over his head he looked like a grumpy little turtle. The TV flickered softly in the background, but he wasn’t watching it — just sulking in the most Spencer way possible.
You padded in from the kitchen, setting two mugs of tea on the coffee table before dropping onto the couch beside him. “You’re really committing to the brooding thing, huh?”
A muffled groan came from inside the hoodie. “They’re never gonna drop it.”
You smirked, tucking your legs beneath you as you turned toward him. “To be fair… you do look like a man who’s been swept off his feet by a mysterious benefactor.”
He peeked one eye out from the hood, glaring halfheartedly. “You are my mysterious benefactor.”
You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me, I am a girlfriend. Benefactor makes it sound like I found you on a classifieds ad.”
Spencer pulled the hood back just far enough for his face to appear, cheeks still faintly pink. “Well, considering they all think I’m being bankrolled, I might as well start leaning into it. Get a little cane. Maybe a monocle.”
You snorted. “Oh, you’d look so dignified. The perfect little sugar baby.” You reached over, tugging gently at the hood. “Should I start drafting a contract? Weekly allowance and everything?”
He finally cracked a smile, rolling his eyes. “You’re evil.”
You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Maybe. But I also like spoiling you. And they only tease you because they love you, you know.”
Spencer sighed, relaxing against you as he let his head drop to your shoulder. “Yeah. I know. Still…”
“Still humiliating?” you teased.
“Still humiliating,” he muttered. “But… at least my Patron Saint of Expensive Footwear is cute.”
You grinned, threading your fingers through his. “Flattery will get you another pair of sneakers.”
He groaned again, but you felt the small smile against your shoulder.
✨ Reblogs + likes | Comments feed the writer
📎 Requests and fic recs welcome!
📬 Comment for tag requests