Sweet & Sour Motivation

Sweet & Sour Motivation

Summary: You are casually seeing Aaron Hotchner after his divorce, but what happens when he brings around his pretty friend, Spencer?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader, Aaron Hotcher xfem!reader

Category: smut, angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, needy & jealous aaron, not really cheating, picking spencer, alcohol consumption, reader sings in a band, use of Y/N, age gap (24 & 37)

Word count: 11.7k

a/n: didn't mean to make hotch so pathetic lol my bad --- also wrote this super quick ,, no proof reads ,, no edits ,, apologies in advance

main masterlist

Additional warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), multiple partners, oral (m), fingering, grinding

After the painful end of his marriage, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t looking for anything serious. One night, while drowning his sorrows at a bar, he was captivated by a beautiful woman singing on stage. Drawn to her presence, Aaron began frequenting the bar just to see her perform. Eventually, their paths crossed when he spotted her getting a drink, and his curiosity led him to you—a vibrant 24-year-old who offered him a much-needed escape from the chaos of his life. What started as a casual rebound quickly evolved into something more complicated. Spending nearly every weekend together, you’ve built a bond that straddles the line between friendship and something deeper, though neither of you has dared to define it. As Aaron juggles the pressures of his job and the remnants of his broken family, and you navigate your own feelings about the age difference and the nature of your connection, you find yourselves in a delicate dance that could either solidify into something real or shatter the fragile peace you’ve found in each other.

—

The moment the bathroom door closed behind you, Aaron’s hands were on you, rough and insistent, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel you against him. His lips crashed against yours, the kiss urgent and filled with a need that had been simmering for months, now boiling over. There was nothing gentle about the way he backed you against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a possessive hunger.

“Aaron,” you gasped against his lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he pressed his body against yours, hard and demanding. His response was a low groan, his breath hot against your neck as he bit down, just enough to make you arch into him, craving more of the roughness he knew you wanted.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he spun you around, your hands bracing against the wall as he pulled you back against him. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of your hips before yanking you closer, his body pressed tightly to yours. There was no room for anything but the raw, desperate need between you.

Clothes were a nuisance, and they were pushed aside quickly, carelessly, until nothing stood between you but the heated press of your skin against his. Aaron’s hands gripped your hips, his hold firm and unyielding as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts, each one forceful, pushing you to the edge with a ruthless precision that only he could master.

The sounds of your moans and his ragged breaths filled the bathroom, mingling with the sharp slaps of skin against skin. It was dirty, intense, everything you had both craved since the first time you saw each other. Aaron’s pace was relentless, his control slipping as he lost himself in the rhythm, the connection between you raw and primal.

“Tell me you want this,” he growled, his voice rough, almost desperate, as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Yes, Aaron, please,” you gasped, the words barely coherent as the sensations overwhelmed you. “I want it, I need it—”

Your words were cut off by a sharp thrust that had you crying out, your body trembling as you reached the peak, the world dissolving into a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Aaron followed you over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself deep, his release shuddering through him with a force that left you both breathless and spent.

—

For a couple of months, your relationship with Aaron was intense, secretive, and driven by an unquenchable need. You’d meet wherever you could—bar bathrooms, his car, your apartment, motels. The connection was raw and consuming. But over time, the urgency softened, and your quick hookups turned into long conversations, dinners, and movies. You were becoming friends, maybe more.

Then, after an especially intimate moment, Aaron surprised you by wanting to introduce you to his friends. Panic set in, as the reality of your relationship became too close, too real. To deflect, you suggested he bring them to your show, hoping they’d have a few drinks before you had to face them. The thought of what Aaron might have told them—or how he’d introduce you—filled you with unease.

—

Aaron had invited the whole team to come see you perform, and they all eagerly agreed. They were curious to meet the woman Hotch was "seeing," though he hadn’t shared many details, leaving out the more provocative aspects of your relationship. None of them imagined the reality of the situation; they were simply excited that he was opening up after the divorce and sharing this part of his life with them.

When the team arrived at the bar, they settled into a table right at the front, not wanting to miss a moment. The anticipation was palpable as they chatted, speculating about what you might be like. But when your band finally took the stage, their reactions were anything but subtle. The team was flabbergasted. There was no way Hotch was just "seeing" you. You were so young, so hot, so confident—everything they wouldn’t have expected from him. You were the complete opposite of the reserved and serious Aaron Hotchner they knew, and it left them stunned.

“Dude, how much you wanna bet Hotch is just banging her?” Derek leaned over to Spencer, his voice low but teasing.

“Um, that’s—I don’t know. Why would he invite us to meet her?” Spencer replied, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

“That’s a good point,” Derek conceded, “but she’s gotta be at least ten years younger than him.”

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, not sure where Derek was going with this.

“I bet he’s using her as a rebound,” Emily chimed in, leaning in closer after having overheard the exchange.

“For sure,” Derek nodded, “but do you think she knows?”

The way you performed on stage—sensual, captivating, commanding every ounce of attention—they assumed you were fully aware of the situation and in control of it.

And Spencer? Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. There was something about you that was otherworldly, enigmatic. You drew him in, fascinated him in a way he’d never experienced before, and he found himself unable to look away.

—

You couldn’t help but notice Spencer staring at you; how could you not? He was the most beautiful man in the bar, his eyes dark and intense, drinking you up like you were the only thing that mattered. There was something magnetic about him, something that made your heart skip a beat, even in the middle of your performance. But then again, he was sitting at Aaron’s table, and that complicated things. Flirting with him? It seemed like a line you shouldn’t cross, especially with Aaron in the picture. You and Aaron weren’t exclusive, sure, but still… it felt like a no-go.

But then an idea struck you. Maybe you couldn’t flirt outright, but you could still send a message, something subtle yet unmistakable. A smile tugged at your lips as you decided to sing your signature cover, one that always held a bit more meaning when you performed it—"Only Angel," the demo version.

Your voice dipped into the lyrics, eyes locked on Spencer as you sang:

“Painted it on your back, I knew we’d get along  

But I caught you in a mirror staring way too long  

I could love you if I didn’t think I’d do it wrong  

I’m gonna have to take you home…”

You let the words linger, your gaze never leaving Spencer’s, the air between you crackling with an unspoken invitation. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw the effect the song was having on him, the way he seemed to lean in, as if drawn by an invisible thread. The tension was electric, and you knew he felt it too. 

The rest of the room faded into the background, the only thing that mattered was the connection sparking between you and Spencer. And for those few moments, you let the song say what you couldn’t—flirting with him in a way that was both bold and discreet, leaving just enough room for him to wonder if it was really him you were singing to. But from the look in his eyes, you knew he understood.

—

As you emerged from the backrooms of the bar, still riding the high of your performance, you were greeted by Aaron’s warm embrace. “Y/N! You were wonderful!” he said, pulling you close, his voice filled with pride.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you murmured into his shoulder, a mix of gratitude and nerves bubbling in your chest. You knew what was coming next—meeting his friends. The thought sent a flutter of anxiety through you, especially after the intense connection you’d just shared with Spencer across the room.

Aaron kept an arm around you as he turned to face the table where his team was gathered. “Everyone, this is Y/N,” he announced, his tone confident and unguarded. And then, with a smile that seemed so simple, yet carried so much weight, he added, “My girl.”

Your stomach dropped at those words, the casual claim sending a wave of emotions through you. You hadn’t expected him to introduce you like that, not in front of his team, not in such a public way. The label—"my girl"—felt both comforting and constricting all at once, like a door closing on the undefined space you’d been occupying together.

“Hi,” you managed to wave, your voice a little shy as you took in the faces around the table. You could feel their eyes on you, studying you, trying to figure out who you were and what you meant to Aaron. It was all a bit overwhelming, especially with Spencer’s gaze lingering on you, more intense than before.

But you held your ground, offering them a small, nervous smile, hoping it conveyed more confidence than you felt.

Emily was the first to break the ice. “So, Y/N, how did you and Aaron meet?” she asked with a playful lilt in her voice, leaning in just a little too close, her breath carrying the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

“Here, actually,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though your nerves were starting to creep in. You could feel Aaron’s arm tighten around your waist, his fingers splaying possessively against your hip. “He, uh, kept coming to see me sing.”

Derek, already grinning, jumped in next. “So you’re the reason Hotch has been in such a good mood lately,” he teased, giving you a wink. “We’ve been wondering who it was. Didn’t think he had it in him to date a rock star.”

“I wouldn’t say rock star,” you laughed nervously, glancing around at the group. You could tell they were all a bit tipsy, their laughter a little too loud, their movements a little too loose—except for Spencer, who sat quietly, his eyes fixed on you with that same intensity you’d noticed earlier. He hadn’t touched his drink, instead seeming to take everything in with a quiet, respectful demeanor that stood in stark contrast to the others.

JJ leaned forward, her smile warm and kind. “What’s it like dating Aaron? He can be pretty intense, I bet.”

Before you could answer, Aaron, clearly more than a little tipsy himself, pulled you closer, his hand drifting lower than you were comfortable with, even in front of strangers. “She loves it, don’t you?” he slurred slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. The gesture was meant to be affectionate, but with the alcohol on his breath and the eyes of his entire team on you, it made you mildly uncomfortable.

You tried to laugh it off, gently nudging him in the side. “It’s… an adventure,” you said, attempting to keep things light despite the awkwardness creeping in.

“Sounds like it,” Rossi chimed in, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To the woman who’s tamed the wild Hotchner.”

The group laughed, and you forced a smile, but inside you were starting to feel the strain of the situation. Aaron’s handsy behavior wasn’t helping, and you could see the team watching your every move, analyzing the dynamics between you and their boss.

But then, your eyes met Spencer’s again, and you found a moment of calm in his steady gaze. Unlike the others, he wasn’t laughing or teasing—he was just watching, as if trying to understand you in a way the others hadn’t even thought to. It was a small comfort in an otherwise overwhelming situation.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was just a night, just a moment, and you could handle it. Even if Aaron was being more affectionate than you were used to, even if his team was dissecting every word you said, you could get through this. After all, you’d faced tougher crowds before—just never with quite so much on the line.

—

You were pushing your cart down the aisle, absentmindedly scanning the shelves for a few last-minute ingredients, when you noticed a familiar figure standing by the canned goods. Spencer Reid, the quiet and somewhat mysterious member of Aaron’s team, was holding a can of peas in front of his face, staring at it with such intensity that you half-expected it to reveal the answer to some complex riddle.

“Spencer?” you called out, curious about what could possibly have him so engrossed.

He quickly glanced over, squinting slightly as if trying to place you. “Yes?”

“It is Spencer, right? I’m Y/N—we met last week…” you trailed off, hoping he’d remember.

“Oh, Hotch’s girlfriend,” he replied, a hint of recognition in his voice.

You smiled, though his label caught you off guard. “Well, not exactly. But yeah, that’s me.”

Spencer’s lips morphed into a tight-lipped smile before he nodded, his gaze shifting back to the can of peas as if it held some deep, unresolved mystery.

“Did those peas do something to you?” you teased, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Excuse me?” He looked back at you, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“You’re looking at the can like it hurt you and you’re expecting an apology,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Spencer gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, no. I, uh, I forgot my glasses in my car. I was trying to read the label.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the situation suddenly making a lot more sense. “Do you want some help?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the offer. “Um, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” you replied with a smile, taking the can from him. You quickly scanned the label and handed it back. “Low sodium, no added preservatives. Looks like a pretty solid choice.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his voice sincere, though there was still a hint of awkwardness in his demeanor. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said lightly, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I know how frustrating it can be when you can’t read something.”

Spencer nodded, then hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to assume anything last week. About you and Hotch, I mean.”

You shrugged, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I think everyone assumed a lot that night.”

He nodded again, this time more slowly, as if considering your words. “Well, it was nice running into you, Y/N.”

“You too, Spencer,” you replied, genuinely pleased by the unexpected encounter. “Maybe next time I can help you pick out something more exciting than peas.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Spencer’s mouth. “I might take you up on that.”

With that, he gave a polite nod and turned to continue down the aisle, leaving you with a surprising sense of warmth from the brief interaction. There was something endearing about Spencer’s quiet, awkward nature, and you found yourself looking forward to the possibility of running into him again.

—

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about you. You weren’t an obsession, but you lingered in his thoughts more than he expected. Whenever he saw Hotch on his phone or noticed him smiling, Spencer couldn’t help but assume it was because of you. Curiosity gnawed at him, driving him to consider going back to the bar just to see you perform, but he dismissed the idea, thinking it might be odd without Hotch.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave him alone. One Friday evening, knowing Aaron had Jack and wouldn’t be at the bar, Spencer took the plunge. It felt risky, like stepping into unknown territory, but he went anyway, sitting where you might spot him if you were looking hard enough, comforted by the idea that he could slip away unnoticed if things felt too strange.

As the lively crowd buzzed around him, Spencer’s focus was solely on you. His heart raced as he watched you perform, a mix of nerves and something deeper stirring within him. After your set, as you headed to the bar for a drink, you spotted him—a familiar, lanky figure perched on a stool, slightly out of place yet somehow perfectly where he belonged.

“Looks like those peas didn’t kill you after all,” you teased, a grin spreading across your face as you approached him.

“Y/N,” Spencer smiled, the warmth in his eyes genuine. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, genuinely touched by his compliment. You glanced around, noticing his lack of company. “Are you here alone?”

“I am… is that weird?” Spencer asked, his tone filled with curiosity and uncertainty.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said with a reassuring smile. But something about the situation tugged at you. “Does Aaron know?”

“Should he?” Spencer responded, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the question hanging between you like a weight. It wasn’t an accusation, just an acknowledgment of the complexity of the situation. The lines between you, Spencer, and Aaron were blurred, undefined, and here you were, caught in the middle of it.

Spencer nodded slowly, understanding the unspoken tension. “I just… wanted to see you perform again,” he confessed, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “Is that okay?”

Your heart softened at his admission, and you found yourself smiling, a genuine warmth spreading through you. “Of course, Spencer.”

His shoulders seemed to relax slightly at your words, the tension easing as you both stood there, caught in a moment that felt charged with possibility.

“Maybe we could sit and talk?” you offered, the idea suddenly feeling right. “You don’t have to be alone.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and for the first time that night, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he had made the right choice by coming here. “I’d like that,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, sincere smile.

And with that, the night shifted, the two of you finding a quiet corner where the music faded into the background, leaving room for something new to take its place.

“So, Spencer,” you began, your tone light and teasing as you sipped your water. “Do you usually spend your Friday nights at bars alone, or is this a new hobby?”

He chuckled, a little self-conscious but clearly amused by your playful question. “This is definitely a new hobby. I’m not exactly the bar-hopping type.”

“Really?” you replied, feigning surprise. “I would have pegged you as a regular party animal.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m more of a stay-at-home-with-a-book kind of guy.”

“Ah, a man of mystery,” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “I like that. So what brings you out of your comfort zone tonight?”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Honestly? I couldn’t stop thinking about your performance. I wanted to see you again.”

His words caught you off guard, but in the best way. There was something so genuine, so sincere in the way he said it that you couldn’t help but feel flattered. “I’m really glad you decided to come,” you said softly, your smile reflecting the warmth you felt inside. “I was hoping I’d see you again too.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he shifted in his seat, clearly a little shy but not backing down. “You were?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your tone playful but sincere. “There’s something about you, Spencer. You’re different. I like that.”

He looked at you, a mix of curiosity and something deeper in his eyes. “Different in a good way, I hope?”

“In the best way,” you replied, your voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “You’re smart, sweet, and let’s be honest—very easy on the eyes.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he smiled, clearly enjoying the attention. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know. You have this… presence. It’s hard not to notice.”

“Noticed me, did you?” you teased, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Hard not to,” he admitted, his voice softening as he leaned in just a little closer. “You have a way of drawing people in.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the chemistry between you becoming more palpable with each passing moment. “Maybe I’m just good at reading people,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “Is that so? What do you read from me?”

You pretended to study him for a moment, your gaze playful and assessing. “Hmm… I see someone who’s incredibly intelligent, maybe a little shy, but with a heart of gold. And… someone who’s curious about me.”

“Curious, yes,” Spencer admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And maybe a little more than that.”

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at his confession. “Good,” you said, leaning in just enough that your faces were only inches apart. “Because I’m more than a little curious about you too.”

The air between you felt charged, the flirtation natural and effortless. There was a comfort in being around Spencer, a sense that you could be yourself without pretense, and the attraction was undeniable.

Just as you were about to say something, your phone started ringing from your bag, the sound cutting through the cozy bubble the two of you had created. You reached for it, intending to silence it quickly, but when you saw Aaron’s face flashing on the screen, your heart skipped a beat. Spencer’s eyes flicked to the phone, clearly noticing who was calling.

“You should probably take that,” Spencer said softly, his voice understanding but with a hint of something unspoken beneath it.

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling a mix of emotions swirl inside you. The timing couldn’t have been more inconvenient.

You offered Spencer an apologetic smile before excusing yourself. “I’ll be right back,” you promised, trying to keep your voice light even as your mind raced. 

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere, the warmth and easy connection with Spencer giving way to the reality of your situation. You took a deep breath before answering the call, bracing yourself for whatever Aaron might have to say, all the while aware that Spencer was inside, waiting.

You answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “Hello?”

“Hey gorgeous, how was your show?” Aaron’s voice came through the line, warm and familiar.

“It was good,” you replied, glancing back toward the bar, where Spencer was still waiting. The conversation you’d just had with him lingered in your mind, making this moment with Aaron feel strangely disconnected.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s tone shifted, laced with concern. He could always tell when something was off, even through the phone.

“I’m fine, still at the bar,” you reassured him, hoping to keep things simple.

“Alone?” he asked, and you could hear the subtle tension in his voice. Aaron wasn’t the jealous type, but there was something there, something unspoken.

“Yeah, wanted to get a drink,” you lied, knowing it was easier than explaining who you were really with.

There was a pause on the other end, then Aaron spoke again, his voice a bit softer, more vulnerable. “Do you want to come over?”

The question caught you off guard. Aaron had never invited you to his place before, and you knew Jack was there. It felt like a big step, one you weren’t sure you were ready to take, especially with everything that had happened tonight.

“Um, not tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. “I’m really tired, was gonna head home soon.”

There was a brief silence, then Aaron’s voice returned, back to its usual steadiness. “Okay, get home safe. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night,” you whispered, ending the call.

You stood there for a moment, the cool air brushing against your skin, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. Aaron’s invitation had surprised you, but it also made you realize just how complicated things were becoming.

With a deep breath, you headed back inside the bar, ready to face Spencer again, but now with a new weight on your shoulders, one you weren’t sure how to carry.

As you walked back inside, the warmth of the bar contrasting sharply with the coolness of the night, your eyes immediately landed on Spencer. He was standing at the bar, his tall frame slightly hunched as he reached for his wallet. You quickly realized he was paying both of your tabs.

“Are you leaving?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Spencer glanced at you, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone gentle. “I don’t want to complicate things between you and Hotch.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. The truth was, you didn’t even know what was happening between you and Aaron. Everything felt so muddled, so undefined.

“Okay,” you finally managed, though it came out more as a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, and there was genuine regret in his eyes, as if he wished things were different, as if he wished he could stay.

“No, I’m sorry,” you replied, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid between you both.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a tender, fleeting kiss. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered, the warmth of his breath lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you whispered back, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure gradually disappearing into the crowd.

As you stood there, the echoes of the night settling around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had just slipped through your fingers. Spencer’s presence had been a breath of fresh air, a glimpse of something new, and now, as he walked away, you were left wondering what could have been if things were less complicated.

—

Derek leaned against Hotch’s office door frame, a mischievous grin on his face as he asked, “Hey, Hotch, what was the name of that bar your girlfriend plays at? I wanted to take a lady friend there this weekend.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly in a playful mood.

Hotch barely looked up from the file he was reviewing, his expression tightening. “Sanders Pub,” he replied curtly, then quickly added, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Derek’s smile faltered at the sharpness in Hotch’s tone. “Whoa, sorry. Did something happen?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more serious note.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, a clear signal that the conversation was over. “Not appropriate work conversation, Morgan,” he said, his voice clipped and final.

Derek held his hands up in surrender, the tension in the air unmistakable. “Alright, alright, backing off,” he muttered, retreating to his desk with a bemused expression.

As he returned to his desk, Derek leaned in toward Spencer, who had been watching the exchange with quiet curiosity. “I think things ended with Hotch and his girl,” Derek whispered conspiratorially.

“What? Why?” Spencer asked, his voice betraying a bit more interest than he intended.

Derek shrugged, lowering his voice even further. “I asked about her and he got super defensive and weird, told me it wasn’t work appropriate.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the sudden surge of emotions he felt. “Yeah, I wonder…”

You had ended things with Aaron, knowing it wasn’t fair to continue when you were so uncertain about what you wanted. Aaron’s life required stability, especially with a child, and you weren’t ready to step into that role. What you did know was that you weren’t prepared to be a stepmom, and more importantly, you felt a stronger pull toward Spencer. The connection you felt with him lingered in your thoughts, making it clear that you couldn’t stay with Aaron when your heart was drawn elsewhere.

—

As you walked out of the bar, the cool night air hit your skin, bringing a welcome relief from the warmth inside. You hadn’t expected to see anyone lingering outside, so when you noticed Spencer standing next to the brick exterior, staring intently at it as if lost in thought, you were momentarily taken aback.

“Spencer? What are you doing?” you asked, your voice cutting through the quiet night.

Spencer jumped slightly, clearly startled by your sudden appearance. He hadn’t heard the door open. “Waiting for you,” he admitted, turning to face you.

“Why?” you asked, curiosity and concern threading through your voice. His presence here, after everything that had happened, felt significant, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.

“You ended things with Hotch, didn’t you?” Spencer’s question was direct, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You blinked, taken aback by how sure he seemed. “How do you know that?” you asked, your voice softer now, the weight of the conversation sinking in.

“So you did?” he pressed, his expression intense but gentle, as if he needed to hear it from you.

“Yes,” you finally admitted, the word hanging in the air between you both, laden with unspoken emotions.

Spencer nodded slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle in his mind. He stepped a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And now?” Spencer asked, his tone laced with quiet hope, as if he were afraid to push too hard, yet unable to hold back.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you considered the truth of it all. “Now… I’m trying to figure that out,” you said, your eyes meeting his, the connection between you undeniable.

Spencer’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need help figuring it out,” he offered, his voice gentle but firm, a silent promise in his words.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, standing in the cool night air.

“Spencer?” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you took a tentative step closer to him.

“Mhm?” His response was almost a hum, his eyes locked on yours, waiting, searching for what you needed to say.

“Kiss me?” The words slipped out before you could second-guess them, a plea as much as a question, filled with all the emotions you’d been holding back.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it was replaced by something softer, something that made your heart flutter. He didn’t hesitate. Instead, he moved closer, the space between you shrinking until there was nothing left but the warmth of his presence.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that made your heart ache. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savoring the moment, the feeling of your lips against his. But as you pressed closer, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, the kiss deepened. His lips molded perfectly to yours, warm and inviting, a slow dance of exploration and longing.

The world around you disappeared completely, leaving only the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the gentle but insistent pressure of his hands as they cupped your face, pulling you closer still. Every brush of his lips sent a spark through you, igniting a fire that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers.

Time seemed to stretch, each second filled with the intoxicating mix of passion and tenderness, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate, as if both of you had been waiting for this moment far longer than you realized.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, your foreheads pressed together, your noses brushing as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer’s eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and you could see the faintest hint of a smile playing on them.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

Spencer opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice just as soft. “Wow.”

Neither of you moved, savoring the closeness, the lingering warmth of the kiss still tingling on your lips. It was as if the world had shifted, something new and precious blooming between you, something that neither of you were quite ready to let go of.

—

Spencer was kicking himself for not getting your phone number. The thought had crossed his mind a dozen times since that night, and each time, he berated himself a little more for letting the moment slip away. But he also knew that you were still sorting through your feelings, and the last thing he wanted was to pressure you by showing up two nights in a row for your show to ask for your number. He wasn’t even sure if you performed both nights of the weekend. Did you perform every weekend? All year long? What was your other job? Where were you from? Did you go to college? 

These questions swirled around in his mind, each one adding to the growing realization that he knew so little about you, despite how much he felt drawn to you. It was a strange, almost unsettling feeling—like being pulled into a deep, endless well of curiosity that he couldn’t climb out of. He was, as Derek would probably say, down bad. 

Spencer found himself thinking about you at the oddest times—during meetings, while reading, even in the middle of a conversation with someone else. His mind would wander back to the way your lips felt against his, the way your voice sounded when you whispered his name, the way you looked at him like he was someone worth knowing. It was enough to drive him crazy.

—

Meanwhile, Aaron’s constant texts and voicemails weighed heavily on you, each one more insistent than the last, as he pleaded for another chance, convinced he could be what you needed. You understood his struggle—after all, you were the first person he’d been with since his marriage ended, and he was trying to find something familiar and safe in the aftermath. But it was clear he was projecting, hoping to recreate the all-encompassing relationship he’d had with his ex-wife.

You knew you needed to gently explain that what you shared wasn’t the same, that you couldn’t be the anchor he was searching for. Adding to your turmoil was the growing connection you felt with Spencer, which only heightened your anxiety. You were certain that pursuing anything with him, especially under these circumstances, wasn’t the right move.

Caught in a web of conflicting emotions—Aaron’s needs, your own feelings, and the undeniable pull toward Spencer—you realized that whatever decision you made next would have far-reaching consequences for all three of you.

—

“Spencer Reid,” he answered, his tone professional.

“Hi, it’s me. I hope it’s okay I’m calling you at work,” you said, a bit hesitant.

“Y/N?” Spencer whispered urgently and lowered his voice.

“Yeah, is this weird? I’m sorry, I’ll go,” you quickly offered, suddenly feeling awkward.

“No!” Spencer replied quickly, looking around to make sure no one was listening.. “No, just… can you give me your cell, and I’ll call you back?”

You gave him your number, and within minutes, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. 

“Y/N?” Spencer's voice came through, full of relief and curiosity.

“Hi,” you responded, feeling a warmth spread through you just hearing his voice.

“Hi,” he echoed, and for a moment, the two of you simply basked in the quiet connection over the phone, neither rushing to fill the silence.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked, just as you said, “I need to talk to you.”

You both laughed, the nervous tension easing slightly.

“Go ahead,” Spencer urged, his tone gentle.

“Can you come over tonight? I think we should talk,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with the weight of what you needed to discuss.

“Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Just want to clear the air,” you reassured him, though there was a slight edge of anticipation.

—

Later that evening, Spencer arrived with Thai food in hand and a knot in his stomach. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was determined to face whatever conversation awaited him. Still, he took a deep breath and knocked.

“Hi, Spencer,” you greeted him with a warm smile as you opened the door.

“Hi,” he replied, feeling some of the tension ease at the sight of you.

“Come in, come in. I got us all set up in front of the TV, I like noise while I eat. Do you like Doctor Who?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, and without thinking, he blurted out, “I’m going to marry you.”

“What?” you laughed, clearly delighted by his reaction.

“I love Doctor Who! The fact that you put it on without knowing that? This is a proposal. I’m sorry I don’t have a ring—will pad Thai do?”

“Yes, I accept,” you said with a grin, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest as you both laughed, the earlier tension dissolving into something much lighter, much sweeter.

Spencer’s nervous energy began to dissipate as he followed you into the living room, where you had everything set up just as you promised—cushions, blankets, and Doctor Who already playing on the screen.

You both settled onto the couch, the takeout containers spread out on the coffee table between you. Spencer glanced over at you, taking in how relaxed you seemed. “You really know how to set the mood,” he teased lightly, gesturing toward the TV with his chopsticks.

“Well, I figured if we’re going to have a serious conversation, we might as well do it with the Doctor,” you replied, giving him a playful smile. But then, your expression softened as you looked at him, and Spencer could sense the shift in the air.

“You wanted to clear the air,” Spencer prompted gently, setting his food aside to give you his full attention.

You took a deep breath, nodding as you gathered your thoughts. “Yeah, I did,” you began, your voice steady but thoughtful. “I ended things with Aaron because… well, because it wasn’t fair to keep things going when I was so uncertain about what I wanted. He’s been through a lot, and I didn’t want to complicate his life any more than it already is, especially with Jack in the picture.”

Spencer listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, the empathy in his gaze clear.

“And then there’s you,” you continued, your voice softening even more. “I don’t know exactly what this is between us, but I know it’s something. But I also know that things are complicated, especially with everything that’s happened.”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he absorbed your words, the vulnerability in your voice mirroring the emotions swirling within him. “Nothing has to happen between us,” he said softly, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I’m perfectly happy being your friend. Truthfully, I just like being around you, and I’ll take that in any capacity I can get.”

The words had barely left Spencer’s mouth before you were on him, your lips capturing his with an urgency that neither of you had expected. No one had ever said anything like that to you before—no one had ever cared like that before. Complications be damned, Spencer Reid was going to be a hell of a lot more than just a friend.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, but it only took him a heartbeat to catch up. His initial shock melted away as he deepened the kiss, his hands instinctively finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him. The kiss was filled with all the unspoken emotions you both had been holding back, a fiery blend of passion and need that neither of you could deny any longer.

Your fingers tightened in Spencer's hair, the silky strands slipping between them as you tugged, eliciting a low moan from him that reverberated through your body. The sound was intoxicating, feeding the fire already burning between you. You pressed against him more firmly, your body molding to his as the kiss deepened, becoming more heated, more urgent.

Spencer’s lips were soft, pliant, yet insistent against yours, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse race. His mouth parted slightly, inviting you to explore, and you didn’t hesitate, your tongue sweeping across his lower lip before sliding into the warmth of his mouth. He met you with equal passion, his tongue teasing yours in a sensual dance that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

His hands, once tentative, became bolder, fingers brushing over the fabric of your shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of your skin beneath it. Each touch, each caress, sent shivers down your spine, making you press closer to him, needing more.

With a gentle but firm push, you guided him further back into the couch, your bodies shifting until you were straddling his lap, your leg sliding over his to settle on either side of him. The new position brought you even closer, your hips brushing against his, and you felt a tremor run through him at the contact.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, but his lips never left yours. His hands, now anchored at your hips, pulled you even closer, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any space between you. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the way his body responded to yours, and it sent a thrill of power through you.

Your lips moved against his with a purpose, tasting, savoring, as if you were trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he responded to you. His moans, low and throaty, vibrated against your mouth, and you couldn’t help but echo them, the sound swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.

His hands roamed more, this time sliding up to your shoulders, then down your arms, before returning to your hips, where his grip tightened. The need in his touch was palpable, almost desperate, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he could remember.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position to align your bodies even more perfectly, and Spencer gasped into your mouth, his fingers digging into your ass now as he tried to control the reaction surging through him. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the connection between you both so powerful that it made every touch, every brush of your lips against his, feel electric.

You deepened the kiss, your tongue teasing his as you nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low groan from him. His response was immediate, his hands slipping under your shirt, palms pressing against the bare skin of your waist, drawing you even closer.

The heat of his touch was searing, branding you with the undeniable evidence of his desire. You could feel the tension building between you, a coil tightening with every second, threatening to snap at any moment. The way his body responded to yours, the way he moaned into your mouth, only fueled your own need, making you press harder against him, your hips rolling slightly to test the limits of his control.

Spencer’s breath was ragged, each exhale shaky as he fought to keep himself grounded in the moment, but you could feel him unraveling beneath your touch. You could feel the desire pulsing between you, the air thick with the promise of what could be, but for now, all that mattered was the way he kissed you—like he couldn’t get enough, like he was drowning in the sensation of your lips on his. His mouth moved against yours with a desperate intensity, as if each kiss was a lifeline, anchoring him to you.

As the kiss grew more fervent, your hands began to roam, exploring the hard lines of his chest, the curve of his shoulders, the muscles tensing beneath your fingertips as you discovered the contours of his body. You could feel the strength in him, the barely restrained power that made every touch feel like a spark igniting between you.

Your name escaped his lips in a breathless whisper as you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. They were dark with desire, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. His gaze was filled with awe and hunger, like he couldn’t believe this was happening but was desperate for more.

“Y/N…” Spencer’s voice was low, strained with the weight of everything he was feeling, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

You silenced him with another kiss, your hands threading through his hair as you poured every ounce of emotion into the contact, letting him know without words that you felt it too, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

The kiss was slow this time, languid and deep, as if you had all the time in the world to savor the taste of each other, to lose yourselves in the sensation. The urgency that had driven you earlier softened into something more intimate, more meaningful, as you let yourselves simply exist in the moment, wrapped up in each other.

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer suddenly breathed out, his voice laced with hesitation and longing.

You paused, searching his eyes, your heart pounding as you tried to read the emotions flickering across his face. “What—what’s up, Spencer?” you asked, your voice soft, trying to keep the moment from slipping away.

“I thought you didn’t want to complicate things?” he said, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for reassurance.

“All I know right now is that I want you,” you replied, your voice steady, but filled with the intensity of everything you were feeling.

“You want to have sex with me?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“We don’t have to,” you assured him, shaking your head slightly. “I want you,” you emphasized, your eyes locked on his. “I want you to tell me all the interesting facts and theories behind Doctor Who and kiss me when I finish a set. I want to go grocery shopping with you and see you in your glasses. I want to cook horrible food together and order takeout when it inevitably fails. I want you, Spencer.”

Spencer’s breath hitched at your words, his eyes widening slightly as he absorbed what you were saying. “Y/N…” he started, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m serious,” you interrupted, needing him to understand how much this meant to you.

Spencer’s gaze softened, but a shadow of uncertainty still lingered. “What will Hotch say?”

You took a deep breath, acknowledging the weight of his question. “I don’t know… but it’s not up to him, is it?”

Spencer considered this, the conflict in his eyes slowly giving way to acceptance. “No, I guess not,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“And besides,” you added with a playful smirk, “you already proposed.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the space between you. “I did, didn’t I?”

You grinned, feeling the tension between you dissolve as you leaned in closer. “So, what do you say, Doctor? Are you in?”

Spencer’s eyes shone with relief and joy, the last remnants of doubt fading away as he pulled you closer, his hands resting on your hips. “I’m in,” he whispered, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Spencer pulled back slightly, a hint of sheepishness coloring his expression as he asked, “Does that mean we’re not going to have sex?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his question, the sound warm and affectionate. Leaning in closer, you whispered with a teasing smile, “Oh no, Spencer, I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then his lips curved into a grin, the tension between you dissolving completely into something playful and charged with anticipation. 

Spencer's playful grin lingered as he leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that quickly deepened, growing more urgent with each passing second. The teasing, lighthearted atmosphere shifted as the heat between you reignited, the need for each other becoming undeniable.

His hands, initially resting on your hips, began to move again, fingers tracing the curve of your waist with deliberate slowness. The touch was electrifying, each stroke of his fingertips igniting a fire under your skin. Spencer’s lips never left yours, his kisses growing more heated, more insistent, as his hands continued their journey downward.

With a deliberate and confident motion, Spencer's hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts. The feeling of his fingers against your bare skin sent a jolt of anticipation through you, your breath hitching in response. His touch was both gentle and firm, exploring with a careful yet eager curiosity that made your pulse quicken.

He found your clit almost immediately, and the moment he touched you, a soft gasp escaped your lips. Spencer paused for a fraction of a second, gauging your reaction, before continuing, his fingers moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you tremble. The sensation was intense, his touch both tender and commanding, driving you to the edge with each stroke.

“Spencer, oh god,” you gasped, throwing your head back, completely unprepared for him to make the first move.

Your hips instinctively pressed into his hand, seeking more of the delicious friction he was creating. Spencer responded in kind, his movements growing bolder as he felt your body responding to his touch. His name fell from your lips, breathless and needy, urging him on.

As his fingers continued their skilled work, your own hands were not idle. You found yourself reaching for him, desperate to feel more of him, your fingers tugging at his shirt, slipping under the fabric to explore the warmth of his skin. The feel of his muscles tensing beneath your touch only heightened your desire, fueling the fire between you.

Spencer’s breathing became ragged, matching yours, as he continued to drive you higher, his fingers moving against your clit with an almost maddening precision. The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter, until it was nearly unbearable, a sweet tension that you craved more of with every second. His lips found yours again, this time hungrier, more demanding, swallowing the soft moans that escaped you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take any more, Spencer’s fingers shifted, inserting two of his long, thick fingers inside of you. His movements were more confident as he found exactly the right rhythm to send you spiraling. He knew exactly what he was doing, every brush of his palm against your clit and the stroke of his fingers sending another jolt of pleasure through you, making your body arch into him, desperate for more.

“Spencer, please,” you gasped, your voice breathless and pleading, your hands gripping his shoulders as you held on to him, grinding yourself into his hand as the pleasure became all-consuming.

He responded with a low, husky moan, clearly affected by your actions, by the way your body was reacting to his touch. Spencer’s free hand slipped beneath your shirt, sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple, adding another layer of sensation that made you shudder.

The combined stimulation was too much, and you could feel the coil inside you tightening to its breaking point. Spencer’s lips never left yours, his kisses growing more fervent, more insistent, as if he could sense how close you were, as if he wanted to take you there, wanted to be the one to push you over the edge.

And then, with one final, perfectly timed stroke, you shattered. Your body trembled violently as you came all over Spencer’s fingers and hand, wave after wave, so intense that it left you breathless, your mind spinning. Spencer’s name fell from your lips in a cry, your hands fisting in his shirt as you clung to him, the only solid thing in a world that had dissolved into pure sensation.

Spencer’s movements slowed, his touch gentle as he helped you ride out the last waves of your climax, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses to your neck, your jaw, anywhere he could reach. His other hand stayed on your breast, caressing you softly, anchoring you as you slowly came back to yourself.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found Spencer watching you with a look that was equal parts awe and desire. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender, and he smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much warmth that it made your heart swell.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your breath still coming in shallow pants. “Says the man who just made me cum in under ten minutes,” you murmured, your lips curving into a soft smile.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, vibrating through both of you. “I guess I have a few talents,” he replied, his tone teasing, but the admiration in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You definitely do,” you whispered, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. It was different from the earlier urgency, this time more tender. You could feel his smile against your lips.

When you finally pulled back, you met his gaze, both of you basking in the warmth of the moment. Spencer’s hands gently stroked your back, his touch soothing as you nestled closer into his embrace.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he whispered, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back.

“Do you think we’re done?” you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you began to slide off his lap, letting your body glide down onto the floor in front of him.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly as he watched your every move, the anticipation clear in his gaze. “I-I hope not,” he stammered, his voice catching as you settled between his knees, your hands resting on his thighs.

A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips as you leaned closer, your fingers beginning to undo his belt, your eyes never leaving his. “Good,” you murmured, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

Spencer's breath grew ragged as you slowly undid his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clicking open echoing in the heated silence between you. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating through him as your fingers deftly worked to free him from the confines of his pants. The tension between you was electric, a palpable current that made every touch, every glance, feel like a spark igniting in the air.

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his anticipation practically humming through his body. As you eased the fabric down his hips, your hands brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the slight tremor in his thighs as he fought to keep his composure. His breath hitched again, a sharp intake of air that sent a thrill through you, knowing how much you were affecting him.

Your fingers brushed over the outline of his cock, feeling the hardness straining against the fabric still covering him. The way he responded to even the lightest touch, his hips shifting slightly, made your own pulse quicken. You reveled in the control you had in this moment, the way he was so completely at your mercy, and the way he willingly surrendered to it.

As you freed him fully, Spencer let out a low, guttural moan, the sound vibrating through the air and making your skin tingle. The weight of his cock was heavy in your hand, the heat of him searing against your palm as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling him pulse with every beat of his heart. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his lips parting as he exhaled shakily, the sensation clearly overwhelming him.

As you slid his pants lower, you couldn’t help but notice the soft, dark curls at the base of his length, a natural, intimate detail that only added to the rawness of the moment. Your fingers brushed through the coarse hairs, the sensation making Spencer moan wildly and buck his hips.

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, savoring the way his breath hitched with each movement, the way his body tensed and relaxed in response to your touch. His skin was smooth and hot beneath your hand, the texture contrasting with the firmness of him, and it was intoxicating. You leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him, feeling him twitch in your hand as you teased him with the warmth of your breath.

Spencer's fingers dug into the cushions of the couch, his knuckles white as he fought to keep control, his entire body coiled with tension. But when your lips finally brushed against his tip, all that control seemed to slip away. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, his hips involuntarily lifting to meet your mouth, the sensation overwhelming.

You took your time, letting your tongue explore the sensitive skin, tracing the large vein with a deliberate slowness that had him trembling beneath you. Every moan, every gasp, was a reward, fueling your desire to drive him further, to make him lose himself completely in the sensation.

His taste was intoxicating, a mix of salt and something uniquely him, and you savored it as you took him deeper, your mouth enveloping him in warmth. The feel of his curls brushing against your lips had you soaking further, grounding you in the raw, physical reality of what you were doing. The sounds he made—breathy moans, desperate gasps—only spurred you on, your own arousal building with every reaction you coaxed from him.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tightened, his breath coming in shorter, more erratic bursts as he neared the edge. His hands found their way to your hair, not guiding, just holding on, as if he needed something to ground him in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

“Y/N…” he gasped, your name a plea on his lips, his voice raw with need.

You responded by increasing the intensity, your pace quickening, taking him deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue. His grip on your hair tightened, not painfully, but with enough force to convey just how close he was. You could feel him straining, his body on the brink of release, every nerve ending attuned to the sensations you were creating.

“Y/N, pull off,” Spencer's voice was breathless, tinged with urgency.

But you were lost in the moment, too caught up in the sensations to register his words. When you didn’t move, his hand tightened in your hair, and with a firm tug, he roughly pulled you off, causing you to whine loudly. Both from loss and pleasure. 

The intensity in his eyes was undeniable as he looked down at you, his chest still heaving, his breath ragged. “I just… I want to be inside you,” he managed, his voice hoarse, the desire in his words unmistakable. He was clearly struggling to regain control after the overwhelming pleasure you’d just given him, his need for you palpable in every word, every breath.

The raw honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, your own desire flaring at the thought. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly rose, your movements deliberate, feeling his gaze follow you as you stood before him. 

“Well then, big boy, come show me a good time,” you whispered, your voice low and filled with all the need you felt in that moment. You reached for him, your hands steady as you guided him to his feet, bringing your bodies back into alignment. The anticipation between you was electric, a charged silence that spoke louder than any words could.

Spencer's hands found your hips, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulled you closer, his eyes dark with hunger as he looked down at you. The air between you was thick with unspoken promises, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, pouring all of your desire into it, feeling him respond with equal fervor. The kiss was intense, filled with the heat and urgency of everything you both wanted, but before it could deepen further, you pulled away—much too soon for his liking. Spencer let out a soft, involuntary sound of protest, his eyes dark with longing as you broke the kiss.

You gave him a teasing smile, taking his hand in yours, and began leading him toward your bedroom. Spencer followed eagerly, the anticipation between you growing with every step. His hand tightened around yours as if he couldn’t stand the distance, even those few steps feeling like too much.

As soon as you reached the bedroom, without needing to say a word, you moved together, hands exploring, fingers tugging at fabric, as you helped each other remove the rest of your clothing. Spencer’s touch was both gentle and fervent, his hands sliding over your skin as he peeled away the last barriers between you.

The air was charged with anticipation, each brush of skin against skin sending sparks through you. When the last of your clothing fell away, you found yourself in his arms again, your bare bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin against yours only fueling the fire.

With a shared, breathless glance, you guided him to the bed, the softness of the sheets a welcome contrast to the intense need between you. Spencer’s eyes were dark with desire as he watched you climb onto the bed, and he quickly followed, his hands finding your hips as you straddled him.

“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the question carrying excitement and vulnerability.

“God, yes, please,” Spencer breathed, his voice laced with desperation, as if he needed this as much as he needed air. His hands gripped your hips firmly, but not harshly, his touch grounding you both in the reality of the moment.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him as he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fullness that made you gasp, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders as you steadied yourself. Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his lips parting as he let out a low, throaty moan, his hands tightening on your hips as if to anchor himself.

The feel of his pubic hair brushing against you with each movement heightened the sensation, a constant reminder of the raw, unfiltered connection between you. It was intimate, real, and it made you feel closer to him than ever before.

You began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that allowed you both to savor every sensation, every brush of skin against skin. Spencer’s hands guided your movements, his fingers pressing into your flesh with a need that mirrored your own. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, each one a testament to the pleasure you were both feeling.

As you moved together, the friction between your bodies built steadily, each motion sending ripples of pleasure through you. The sensation of him inside you, combined with the feeling of his coarse hair brushing against your clit with every grind, was almost too much to bear. You could feel the tension building within you, a coiled spring ready to snap, the pleasure intensifying with every thrust.

Spencer’s hands roamed your body, his touch both reverent and possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, the way you moved against him. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, down to the swell of your hips, then back up to your waist, as if memorizing every inch of you.

With each movement, your pace quickened, the need between you becoming more urgent, more desperate. The sounds of your shared pleasure filled the room—his deep moans, your soft gasps, the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving together in perfect sync.

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tighter as he felt you begin to tremble above him, the tension within you reaching its peak. He bucked his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper into you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your voice trembling with the intensity of the pleasure building inside you. “I’m so close, you’re fucking me so good!”

“Y/N, shit. You can’t just say that. You feel so good,” Spencer groaned loudly, and then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered. The pleasure exploded within you, wave after wave crashing over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. Spencer’s name fell from your lips in a cry, his hands gripping you tightly as he felt your walls tighten around him. 

The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock so tightly drove Spencer over the edge. "Oh, I'm gonna—" Spencer's voice was filled with urgency, his breath ragged as the sensation overwhelmed him. And with a few more deep, deliberate movements, Spencer buried himself completely within you, his body tensing as he succumbed to the wave of pleasure that crashed over him. He let out a strained, almost desperate sound as he reached his own release, the intensity of the moment leaving him trembling in your arms.

After Spencer came down, the room gradually quieted, leaving only the soft sound of your mingled breaths. Spencer's hands continued to gently caress your back, his touch tender and soothing as you both returned from the overwhelming high.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, a grounding presence that made you feel safe and cherished.

"You okay?" Spencer asked softly, his voice laced with concern and affection as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, a contented smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good," you whispered, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and peace wash over you.

Spencer's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his touch light and reassuring. "I want to make sure you’re comfortable," he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine care.

Spencer smiled as he helped you shift to a more comfortable position, reaching for the covers to pull them over you. But you gently stopped him.

“I have to pee,” you said with a sheepish grin.

“Thank you for sharing,” Spencer teased, his voice light with amusement.

“Get out and let me up,” you giggled, playfully nudging him.

With a laugh, Spencer shifted to give you room, and you quickly made your way to the bathroom. When you returned, you grabbed some comfortable clothes—sweats and a T-shirt—for both of you.

“Here,” you said, tossing him a shirt and some pants. “I’m assuming you’ll spend the night?”

“Happily,” Spencer replied, slipping into the clothes, a contented smile on his face.

“And you’ll still be here in the morning?” you asked, a hint of playful seriousness in your tone as you pulled on your own clothes.

“Of course,” he answered without hesitation, his eyes meeting yours.

“And you’ll let me cuddle you?” you continued, your smile widening as you crawled back into bed.

“Absolutely,” Spencer said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“And you’ll be my boyfriend?” you added, your tone teasing, but there was a genuine question behind it.

“Duh—wait. Oh, you got me,” Spencer chuckled, realizing he had walked right into your playful trap. He kissed your forehead, his expression softening. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You both laughed, the lightness of the moment a perfect contrast to the intensity of earlier. As you snuggled into his arms, the warmth and comfort of being together settled over you like a blanket.

—

The shrill ringing of a phone pulled you from the depths of sleep, and you groggily rolled over, reaching for the device on your bedside table. 

“Hello?” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other end was unmistakable.

Your eyes widened in sudden realization. “Aaron,” you breathed, your heart skipping a beat.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a question laced with confusion and suspicion. “Why are you answering Spencer’s phone?”

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg

how is this man the perfect combination of hot sexy and cute and adorable??

Needy

Summary: Spencer is touch starved.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+), porn with little plot, additional warnings undercut, sub!spencer, slight dom!reader, crying

Word count: 8k

a/n: for @kameowwww hope i did you good <333 this is the idea

this is like straight up porn so

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (f&m receiving), PinV sex unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), voyerism, masturbation (f), vibrator (f), orgasm denial, overstimulation, sub/dom dynamics

Spencer Reid had always been a man of intellect, preferring the quiet solace of books over the chaos of human interaction. He never quite understood the appeal of constant physical affection until he met you. Before you, his life was a series of equations and logical deductions, but you brought something new to the table—warmth, comfort, and a touch that ignited something deep within him. Now that he had tasted that sweetness, he found himself utterly addicted. He couldn't imagine going back to the way things were before you.

The two of you had been dating for quite some time now, and Spencer had grown accustomed to the constant stream of affection you showered upon him. It wasn’t just the emotional warmth that he relished but the physical connection as well. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin was electrifying, each touch sending a shiver down his spine that lingered long after your hand had moved on. He adored the way you would pull him into a hug for no reason other than to feel his presence against you, your bodies fitting together perfectly like pieces of a puzzle.

When you kissed him, your lips soft and inviting, Spencer would lose himself in the moment, his mind quieting as all he could focus on was the sensation of you. The way your hands would slide up his chest, lingering at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer, made his heart race with a fervor he had never known before. It was a sensation he couldn’t quite articulate, this melding of souls and skin that made him feel so alive, so desired.

The intimacy extended to the most mundane of routines—the way your hands lingered a little longer on his back as you parted ways in the morning, your fingers tracing small circles that left his skin tingling in their wake. Your touch was intoxicating, a sweet addiction that he eagerly anticipated each day. It was as if you had created a secret language of touch, a series of unspoken words that only the two of you understood, a language that spoke of love, trust, and an undeniable connection.

But now, he was miserable. Absolutely miserable.

Spencer had been shot in the leg during a case gone awry. The doctors said he couldn't fly for a while, which meant he was stuck back in D.C. while you and the rest of the team were off on another case. This separation was a special kind of torment, one that gnawed at him with every passing hour.

He found himself staring at his phone, the digital clock mocking him as the minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness. It felt like time had slowed down since you left. No, it felt like time had stopped altogether. Spencer found himself yearning for the sound of your voice, the feel of your skin against his, the comfort of your presence. He missed you more than he could put into words, more than he had ever thought possible.

Every hour, like clockwork, he sent you a text. His messages ranged from sweet to downright needy, each one a reflection of his growing desperation:

9:00 AM: I miss you so much already. I can't wait for you to come back.

10:00 AM: Just had breakfast, and it's not the same without you. Miss you.

11:00 AM: I keep staring at our picture on my desk. It makes me smile and want to cry at the same time.

12:00 PM: I'm thinking about you. Are you thinking about me too?

1:00 PM: I miss you so much it hurts. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before.

2:00 PM: I’m hard... It's so embarrassing. Do you think I should touch myself?

3:00 PM: I love you. I miss you. I need you. Please come home soon.

He knew he was being pathetic, absolutely pitiful, even. Spencer Reid, BAU genius, reduced to a lovesick fool who couldn't even go a day without hearing from you. It was embarrassing, really. But he couldn't help himself; his emotions were a whirlwind, and you were the eye of the storm—the calm he so desperately sought.

He knew you were busy, embroiled in the intricacies of the case, piecing together the psychological profiles that would lead the team to the unsub. He respected that, understood it more than anyone. Still, the emptiness of your absence gnawed at him, clawing at his insides until he felt like he was going mad.

As night fell, he lay sprawled on his bed, his phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. Shadows danced across the ceiling, and he imagined your silhouette beside him, tracing the curves of your body with his eyes, feeling the warmth of your presence.

And then, finally, his phone buzzed with the notification he had been waiting for—your nightly call. Spencer's heart leaped at the sight of your name flashing on the screen. He scrambled to answer, almost dropping the phone in his haste.

“Hey,” he breathed, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. He wanted to sound confident, but the anticipation of hearing your voice made it hard to keep his composure.

“Hi,” you replied, but your tone was laced with a hint of annoyance that made Spencer wince. “How was your day?”

Spencer hesitated, searching for the right words. “How—how was your day?” he repeated nervously, trying to ease the tension he sensed from you.

You sighed, the sound echoing through the line. “Other than my phone going off every two seconds, it was fine.”

His heart sank, guilt washing over him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling the weight of his own neediness pressing down on him.

“What did we talk about?” Your voice was firm, demanding an answer he was struggling to find.

“I don’t—I don’t remember,” he mumbled, the words tumbling out of him in a pathetic attempt to buy himself time.

“Don’t play dumb, baby,” you said, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “Put that eidetic memory to work. Tell me right now, or your ass will be so red when I get back.”

Spencer squeaked at the imagery, feeling his face heat up at the thought. His mind raced as he tried to recall the conversation, panic mixing with a strange thrill at your words. “Okay! You said… not to text you unless it was important, that you’d call me when you’re in the hotel,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s right, my smart boy,” you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice now. “You need to be patient, Spence. I know you miss me, and I miss you too, but we agreed on this for a reason.”

Spencer nodded, even though you couldn’t see him, his heart aching with a longing that was both painful and sweet. “I know,” he murmured, feeling the tension in his body ease as he listened to your voice, the gentle reprimand laced with affection. “I just… I miss you so much.”

“I know, baby,” you soothed, your voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. “And I promise, when I get back, we’ll make up for lost time.”

—

As soon as you set foot in your shared apartment, Spencer was up and running from his spot in the reading chair, the book he had been pretending to read for the past hour forgotten. He practically threw himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, his face burying in your neck as he breathed in the scent that was just so—you. It was as if he couldn’t get close enough, as if he wanted to meld into you completely, the relief of having you back washing over him like a tidal wave.

“Hi, baby,” you laughed softly, your arms encircling him as you returned the embrace, feeling his neediness and desperation in the way he clung to you.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured against your skin, his voice tinged with an aching vulnerability that tugged at your heartstrings.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your fingers gently threading through his hair, offering him the comfort and reassurance he craved.

Spencer’s body was pressed tightly against yours, and you could feel him start to wiggle, subtly at first, as if testing the waters. But soon his movements became more insistent, his hips grinding against you in a desperate attempt to find some relief for the neglected erection that had been tormenting him during your absence.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, pulling back slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow as you caught the sheepish expression on his face.

“...nothing,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink as he averted his gaze, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting.

You pushed him off gently, taking a step back to give yourself some space. Spencer’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at his hands, the sting of embarrassment and rejection written all over his face. 

“I just walked in the door, and you’re already trying to hump me like a bitch in heat?” you chided, your tone firm but not unkind. It was clear he had been waiting for this moment, stewing in his own need and desperation, and you couldn’t help but find his pathetic eagerness endearing.

Spencer glanced up at you, his eyes wide and pleading, the blush on his cheeks deepening. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small, shame and longing swirling in his chest.

You shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “I think you need to learn some patience, Spence,” you said, your voice dropping to a husky murmur that made his heart race. “But don’t worry, I’m here now, and I’m going to take care of you. Just not until I’m ready. Understand?”

He nodded, his breath hitching at the promise in your words, his anticipation building as he realized he’d have to wait a little longer to get what he so desperately craved.

“Good,” you said, reaching out to gently tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Why don’t you make us some tea while I get settled? Then we can see about that little problem of yours.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, the submissive role coming naturally to him as he eagerly turned toward the kitchen, his heart racing with excitement at the prospect of what was to come.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at how easily he fell into place, his neediness a palpable presence in the room. It was a dance the two of you had perfected over time, a delicate balance of power and trust that left you both feeling fulfilled and connected in a way that was beyond words. 

Once you were settled, you called him back to you. He returned with a tray, the tea carefully prepared, his hands slightly trembling as he set it down on the table. He looked at you expectantly, hope and trepidation in his eyes, waiting for your next move.

“Come here, Spencer,” you said softly, patting the spot next to you on the couch.

He obeyed immediately, sitting close enough that his leg brushed against yours, his body taut with anticipation. You reached out, your hand finding his, your touch gentle yet commanding, a silent reminder of who was in charge.

“Are you ready to be a good boy for me?” you asked, your voice low and teasing, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice quivering with eagerness, his eyes shining with a mixture of adoration and need.

"Good," you murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, a promise of what was to come, the warmth of your breath mingling with his. Spencer’s heart soared at the touch, his whole body tingling with anticipation. He tried to press into you further, reaching for your hips to pull you into his lap, yearning for more contact, more of you. But before he could make his move, you slapped his hands away and pulled back.

Dazed, he looked at you with wide puppy eyes, his expression portaying confusion and longing. "What?" he asked softly, his voice laced with desperation.

"I need you to do something for me, baby. Can you do that?" you asked, your voice a silky command that sent shivers down his spine.

Spencer nodded so fast he resembled a bobblehead, eager to please, to do whatever you asked of him. His eyes were filled with unwavering devotion, the need to be good for you evident in every fiber of his being.

"Good boy…" You praised him, a wicked smile playing on your lips as you stood up, walking toward the bedroom with a sway in your hips that was both enticing and authoritative. Spencer eagerly followed you, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipated what was to come.

When you reached the bedroom, you pointed to the chair in the corner, your eyes never leaving his. "Sit down," you instructed, your voice firm yet gentle.

Spencer reluctantly took a seat, his mind racing. This wasn’t usually how things went, and he felt a twinge of uncertainty mingling with his excitement. "Babe?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice as he tried to understand your plan.

"Shhh… Can you be quiet for me?" you asked, your tone soothing yet commanding, and he nodded again, eager to comply.

He watched as you moved around the room with purpose, his eyes following your every step. His anticipation grew with each passing moment, the air between you charged with a tension that was both electrifying and maddening. Spencer sat on the edge of the chair, his hands gripping the armrests as he tried to contain his eagerness, his heart beating a frenzied rhythm in his chest.

He was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, the urge to touch you warring with the need to obey, to be the good boy you wanted him to be. He knew he had to trust you, to let go of his own desires and surrender to the moment, to the pleasure you promised.

You glanced over at him, your eyes meeting his, and the look you gave him was filled with a promise that made his pulse race. He could feel his resolve wavering, the need to reach out and pull you close overwhelming. But he held himself back, knowing that your control over him was part of what made this so exhilarating, so intoxicating.

Spencer took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, to let go of his own wants and needs, and focus solely on you, on the sexual tension, on the connection that bound you together. He was yours, and he knew that this moment would be worth every agonizing second of waiting.

Once you finished collecting the items you needed, you walked just close enough to Spencer that he couldn't touch you and began to strip. Spencer slowly realized he was being punished, as undressing you was one of his favorite things to do, whether or not it was sexual in nature. He loved the sensation of removing each piece, the anticipation that built with every button undone and every zipper pulled. It was an intimate act that spoke of trust and desire, something that made him feel closer to you than anything else.

He whimpered from his seat in the chair, gripping the arms tightly. His fingers dug into the fabric, struggling to maintain his composure as he watched you, every muscle in his body tense with longing. You continued until you were bare, your skin glowing with a confidence that made his heart skip a beat. You winked at him, teasing him with the promise of what was to come, before walking back to the bed and climbing on with a graceful ease that left him breathless.

Spencer wanted to talk, to plead, to explain himself, but he didn't want his punishment to get worse. He was caught between his desire to be good and his desperation for relief. So he did the only thing he could think of—he raised his hand, a silent request for permission to speak, his eyes wide and imploring.

You laughed softly, the sound wrapping around him like a caress. "Yes, baby? You can talk," you said, your tone both gentle and authoritative, holding the power to both soothe and command.

"Am I being punished?" Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mixture of curiosity and resignation.

"Yes, smart boy. You are," you replied, watching him with a steady gaze, your words firm but laced with affection.

"Why?" He ventured the question, a tentative exploration of his transgressions.

"Why do you think?" you asked, challenging him to delve into his own behavior, to understand the reasons behind his current predicament.

Spencer thought as much as he could in his state, his mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions. "Um, is it, uh, because I touched myself?" he ventured hesitantly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Well, I didn’t know about that, but thank you for telling me," you said, your lips curling into a sly smile as you watched Spencer's entire face fall, realizing he had just outed himself.

"Try again, Spence," you prompted, giving him another chance to find the true answer.

"Because I, I texted you too much?" he guessed, his voice small and contrite, like a child admitting to a misdeed.

"Good job, baby boy. You're done talking now," you confirmed, acknowledging his confession. "Now you get to watch."

With that, you pulled out your favorite toy, the bane of Spencer's existence, to pleasure yourself. It was a delicious torment, a visual feast designed to both punish and tantalize, to teach him the value of patience and obedience.

Spencer watched, his breath hitching as you began to rub the vibrator on your clit, the sight both mesmerizing and agonizing. He was captivated by the way you moved, the way you seemed so utterly in control, the way you drew out your own pleasure with an ease that left him reeling.

Spencer's eyes never left you, drinking in every detail, every gasp and moan, every shiver of your body as you pleasured yourself. His need was growing exponentially, a desperate ache that throbbed in time with his racing heart, a longing that was both exquisite and unbearable. Every fiber of his being was attuned to you, yearning for your touch, your approval, your love.

You were a vision of temptation, a goddess in your own right, and Spencer was helpless to do anything but watch, his hands gripping the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, the frustration and desire bubbling over into soft whimpers and pleas that slipped from his lips despite his best efforts to remain silent.

The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, a symphony that played just for him, a reminder of the power you held over him. Each sound, each movement was a sweet torture, intensifying his need until it was a tangible force, pressing down on him with relentless intensity. He felt a sob rise in his throat, a sound of both yearning and surrender.

"Please," he whispered, the word escaping him before he could stop it, his voice cracking with emotion.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile that made his heart skip a beat. "No talking, remember?" you reminded him gently, your voice a sultry command that sent shivers down his spine.

Spencer nodded, biting his lip to stifle the whine that threatened to spill forth. Tears slipped down his cheeks, hot and unbidden, as he struggled to keep himself in check, the battle between obedience and desperation waging a fierce war within him.

Even though he was being punished, he knew that this was part of what made your relationship so special, so unique—a delicate balance of dominance and submission that left him feeling more alive than he had ever thought possible. The act of surrender, of giving himself over to you completely, was a heady sensation, one that filled him with a profound sense of belonging.

However, as you entered your core with the toy, Spencer let out a heart-wrenching sob, the sound filled with raw emotion. It was a sound that spoke of betrayal and longing, a testament to the war inside him. That should be him! He couldn’t help the tears that fell, his feelings a torrent that he couldn’t control. You didn’t chide him for that noise, knowing that he couldn’t hold back from that much. It was a moment of vulnerability that made your heart swell with empathy and power, seeing just how deeply he felt, how completely he had surrendered to you.

The vibrator in your hand whirred quietly as you reached your own peak, and then you turned it off, the room descending into a hushed silence as you calmed your breathing, your chest rising and falling as you regained your composure. You climbed off the bed, your movements fluid and deliberate, each step a reminder of the control you held.

You walked over to Spencer, who was still sitting in the chair, a picture of longing and obedience, his eyes glistening with both shed and unshed tears. You offered him your hand, a gesture of both forgiveness and invitation, a silent promise that the moment of his punishment was over.

Spencer took your hand immediately, rising from the chair with a quiet eagerness that spoke volumes about his desire to please you, to earn back your favor. His obedience was at an all-time high, each movement careful and deliberate, as if he were afraid of making a misstep.

“You did so good, baby. It’s over, okay?” you murmured softly, your voice soothing as you reached up to gently wipe away the remnants of his tears. Your touch was tender, an unspoken reassurance that filled the space between you with warmth and affection.

He nodded, sniffling slightly, fresh tears running over the ones already dried on his cheeks. The vulnerability in his eyes tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of him so open, so trusting.

“Do you want your reward?” you asked, your tone teasing yet filled with genuine affection, knowing that he had earned the comfort and love that only you could provide.

“Yes, please,” he whispered, his voice filled with longing, the need for your touch evident in every word. His eyes met yours, filled with a hopeful longing that made your heart skip a beat, a promise that he would do anything to stay in this moment with you.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, a promise of the reward that awaited him, a sweet culmination of all his patience and obedience. Spencer melted into you, his body relaxing as the tension ebbed away, replaced by the soothing balm of your touch.

With a soft smile, you led him to the bed, guiding him with a tenderness that spoke of love and understanding, ready to give him everything he had been waiting for, ready to show him just how much he meant to you. 

"Okay, baby, it's your choice first. What do you want?" you asked, a gentle encouragement in your voice as you gave Spencer the rare opportunity to express his desires. It was a gesture of trust and affection, a way to show him that his needs were important to you, even within the dynamic you shared.

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by the unexpected freedom you offered him. He almost never had any sort of control in the bedroom, and the sudden responsibility of choosing what he wanted was both exhilarating and daunting. His mind raced, a kaleidoscope of possibilities flashing through his thoughts as he considered his options.

"Uh, um," he stammered, his cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and excitement, "can you, um, lay down?"

"Sure, Spence," you laughed softly, the sound warm and inviting as you moved to accommodate his request.

Once you were laying on your back, your body a canvas of curves and soft skin, Spencer crawled between your legs, his eyes drawn to the glistening slick that beckoned to him. The evidence of what you had done was a siren call, screaming at him to reclaim you, to remind himself of who you belonged to just as much as he did.

Wordlessly, he leaned down, his breath warm against your skin as he positioned himself with reverent care. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with awe and adoration, before he licked your core from base to crest, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your entire being, making you moan in response.

His touch was gentle yet insistent, his movements guided by a deep-seated desire to please you, to erase the distance that had been between you and replace it with something more profound. As his tongue worked its magic, he focused on every reaction, every gasp and shiver, adjusting his actions to draw out your pleasure in waves that washed over you.

You felt your body responding to his touch, a symphony of sensations that built steadily, the connection between you deepening with every pass of his tongue against your clit. It was a dance of devotion and need, a testament to the trust you had built together, and the love that underpinned every moment of your shared intimacy.

Spencer’s hands gripped your thighs, steadying himself as he delved deeper into the moment, his senses overwhelmed by the taste and scent of you, the soft sounds of your moans spurring him on. He was utterly consumed by his task, lost in the rhythm of your responses, the symphony of your pleasure, a song he never tired of hearing.

As he continued, you felt the tension in your body coil tighter, the anticipation building with every passing second. Spencer was relentless in his devotion, his tongue and lips moving in a rhythm that threatened to send you over the edge. The sensations were overwhelming, a rising crescendo of pleasure that filled every corner of your being.

But you didn’t want to finish just yet. You wanted to savor the moment, to draw out the exquisite tension that lingered between you. With a gentle but firm push, you moved Spencer away before it was too late, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you fought to regain control.

Spencer looked up at you, confusion and distress clouding his eyes. He immediately started tearing up again, a wave of insecurity washing over him as he tried to make sense of the situation. He blinked rapidly, his voice breaking with emotion as he tried to understand what he had done wrong.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbled, his words tumbling over each other in a frantic rush. “Please let me try again, I’ll do better, I promise, please, just–”

“Whoa, baby, slow down,” you interrupted gently, reaching out to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks.

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and searching yours for reassurance. You could see the emotions swirling within him, a cocktail of desperation, fear, and hope that tugged at your heart.

“You did nothing wrong, Spence,” you assured him softly, your voice a calming balm that soothed the jagged edges of his anxiety. “I just didn’t want to come yet. You were doing so well, baby.”

He sniffled, his lower lip quivering slightly as he processed your words, relief flooding his system like a tidal wave. The tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by a tentative hope that he hadn’t disappointed you.

“Really?” he asked, his voice small and unsure, as if he were afraid to believe it.

"Really,” you confirmed with a warm smile, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his skin. “You were amazing, Spencer. I just wanted to take care of you first, okay?”

“Oh,” Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink as he tried to hide his face in your hands. He was such a giver that sometimes he forgot you liked to give too. The thought of you wanting to focus on his pleasure made his heart race with excitement and gratitude.

“Can I touch you, baby?” you asked softly, your voice laced with affection and a hint of playful intent.

“Mhm,” he nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation as he gave you his permission.

You switched positions, guiding Spencer to lay down on the bed, his body stretched out beneath you like a beautiful canvas. He watched with wide eyes as you climbed over his legs, your movements graceful and deliberate. You began to mouth along his adorable tummy, placing gentle kisses that made him giggle and squirm beneath you.

“Stop it, that tickles!” he laughed, his voice a joyful melody that filled the room. He tried to keep still, but his body naturally reacted to your teasing touches, causing his muscles to twitch and shift under your lips.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection at the sight of his genuine happiness. “Keep still,” you instructed playfully, your tone both loving and commanding, a mix that Spencer found utterly irresistible.

“I’ll try,” Spencer promised, his voice a bit shaky as he fought to obey your command. His eyes were wide, filled with a combination of anticipation and delight as he felt your lips continue their journey across his skin.

As you licked down his sparse trail of hair, you felt his body respond, muscles tensing beneath your tongue. He took a deep, steadying breath, the sound still a bit shaky, but he was doing better, finding his center amidst the flurry of sensations.

“Okay, Spence?” you asked, pausing to look up at him, ensuring he was comfortable and at ease.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, his voice a little breathless but filled with warmth and trust. He couldn’t help the happy tears that welled up in his eyes, the emotion of the moment washing over him in waves. The feeling of being so cared for, so cherished, made him feel safe and loved in a way that was almost overwhelming.

“Okay,” you murmured, a note of reassurance in your voice, before you took him into your mouth, your movements deliberate and precise, a dance of intimacy that you had both perfected over time.

“Oh my god!” he cried, his voice a mixture of surprise and ecstasy, his head falling back against the pillow as the pleasure washed over him in waves. The sensation was almost too much, too intense, and he let out a series of whimpering cries, unable to hold back the sounds that escaped his lips.

Tears slipped down his cheeks, his eyes fluttering closed as he gave in to the sensations coursing through him. The feeling of your mouth wrapped around him was almost too much to bear, a pleasure so profound that it bordered on pain, he had been on edge for so long. He was lost in the moment, caught in a web of need and longing, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Please, please,” he begged, his voice hitching with each word. He could feel the tears spilling over, a combination of joy and desperation that he couldn’t contain. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

You smiled softly, knowing that you had him right where you wanted him. His voice was a beautiful swirl of whines and pleas, a testament to the depth of his need and the power you held over him.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” you cooed, your voice a soothing balm that eased the tension in his body, even as the sensations continued to build. “Just relax and let go, okay?”

Spencer nodded, his head moving in jerky motions as he tried to follow your command. His body trembled with the effort of holding himself together, of staying still under the onslaught of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. His hands clutched at the sheets, his knuckles white with the effort of maintaining control.

“I’m trying,” he whimpered, his voice cracking with emotion. “It just feels so good, I can’t—oh god, please!”

The tears flowed freely now, his cheeks wet with the evidence of his vulnerability. But he didn’t care, didn’t try to hold back the emotion that spilled over, knowing that he was safe here, that he was loved and cherished and understood. Every tear was a testament to the depth of his trust in you, to the surrender that came so naturally when he was with you.

As you licked and sucked his cock, Spencer felt himself go a little bit more insane. The sensations were overwhelming, each touch a bolt of electricity that shot through him, igniting every nerve ending with exquisite pleasure. When your tongue traced the ridge along his head, he thought he died and ascended to a higher being, the world around him fading away until there was nothing but you and the bliss you were giving him.

His body trembled beneath you, his muscles tensing and relaxing in a dance of ecstasy that left him breathless. Every stoke of your tongue was a sweet torture, a reminder of just how much he needed you. He felt like he was on the edge of something monumental, something that would shatter him and remake him all at once.

No longer able to hold his release any longer, Spencer began to babble again, the words spilling from his lips in a torrent of need and desperation.

“Oh, I’m going to come, please. Ohhh… please, can I come? I’ve been so good. Please!” he pleaded, his voice full of whimpers and cries, the emotion raw and unfiltered.

His eyes met yours, wide and imploring, filled with a desperate need for permission, for your blessing. His chest heaved with each breath, his body straining against the pleasure that threatened to consume him, to pull him under into a sea of bliss that he both feared and longed for.

“Please,” he begged again, the tears continuing to flow, each one a sign of his vulnerability, his surrender.

You paused for a moment, allowing the tension to build even further, your eyes locking with his, your expression both tender and commanding. The power you held over him was intoxicating, a heady mix of dominance and love that left you both breathless.

“Not yet, Spence,” you murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm that both calmed and ignited him, a promise of what was to come. “Just a little longer, okay? You can do it.”

Spencer let out a low whine, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, of obeying your command even as every fiber of his being screamed for release. But he nodded, his eyes shining with desperation and devotion, his heart full to bursting with the love he felt for you.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice a shaky breath that carried with it all the emotion of the moment, all the trust and need and longing that filled him to overflowing. “Okay, I’ll wait.”

He bit his lip, his body a taut line of tension and anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation as he held himself back. His mind was a whirl of pleasure, need, and love. It was a beautiful agony, a sweet torment that left him on the edge of everything, ready to fall into the abyss of bliss that awaited him. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of how close he was to the release he so desperately craved.

“Good boy,” you praised, your voice a melodic promise that resonated deep within him, and then you mouthed along his balls, your movements calculated to push him to his very limits.

The sensation was too much, the culmination of everything you had built together. Spencer’s control shattered, and he felt himself tipping over the edge, the world narrowing to a single point of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Spencer shouted, his voice carrying apology and ecstasy, as he came, the force of his release catching him by surprise, his body shuddering with the intensity of it.

His release hit you in unexpected places, getting his come in your hair and on your face, the aftermath of his pleasure painting a vivid picture of the depth of his release. 

You couldn't help but laugh softly, your eyes shining with amusement and affection as you took in his apologetic expression, the mix of embarrassment and satisfaction on his face endearing him to you even more.

“It’s okay, Spence,” you reassured him, your voice gentle and soothing as you reached up to wipe the sticky substance from your skin. “You just owe me one.”

“What…?” Spencer asked in a daze of post-orgasmic bliss, his mind still spinning from the intensity of the experience. His breath came in shallow gasps, and he felt as if he were floating, weightless and free, in the aftermath of the ecstasy you had given him.

“I said,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his thigh in a gentle kiss that sent shivers down his spine, “you owe me one.”

“Oh,” he replied, his eyes widening slightly. He was slightly scared at the prospect of what was to come, knowing that your idea of a reward was often as intense as it was pleasurable. But beneath that fear lay a bubbling excitement, a thrill at the thought of pleasing you, of being able to return the gift you had given him. 

“Think you can handle it?” you teased, your voice a holding challenge and affection as you watched the emotions play out across his face.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaimed, his answer immediate and earnest, his eagerness clear in his wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Okay, baby,” you chuckled, a playful light in your eyes as you shifted to climb on top of him. Your movements were graceful and confident, a display of the control you wielded with such ease. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a charged electricity that wrapped around you both as you prepared to take him on another journey of pleasure.

You grabbed his soft shaft, your fingers gentle yet firm as you worked him in your hand, your touch a combination of care and precision that drew Spencer further into your spell. The sensations were overwhelming, a cascade of stimulation that left him breathless and trembling beneath you.

As you moved, Spencer writhed and whined in overstimulation, his body a live wire of sensation that sparked with every touch. The overstimulation sent him into a dizzying spiral of sensation, the world narrowing to the point where nothing existed but you and the incredible feelings you were coaxing from him.

“Oh, oh god,” he gasped, his voice filled with desperation and delight as he tried to process the onslaught of pleasure. His hands clutched at the sheets, his fingers curling into the fabric as he fought to hold on, to ride the wave of bliss that threatened to sweep him away completely.

“Just relax, Spence,” you murmured, your voice a soothing balm that wrapped around him, grounding him even as he felt himself slipping further into the depths of ecstasy. “I’ve got you.”

The assurance in your words, the confidence in your touch, allowed him to let go, to surrender completely to the moment and you. Spencer’s whines turned into soft moans, his body moving in time with yours. 

As you continued, he felt himself teetering on the edge once more, the pleasure building and building until it reached a crescendo that left him breathless, his world narrowing to a single, perfect point of ecstasy.

"Please, please," he begged, his voice a soft plea as he gazed up at you with wide, shining eyes, his heart full of gratitude and love. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” His words were laced with desperation, a raw emotion that spilled from him in waves.

In that moment, you let go, pulling away just before he reached his peak. 

“No!” he whined, wiggling beneath you as his body searched for the contact he craved. His eyes were wide with disbelief and desperation, the sudden absence of your touch leaving him feeling adrift.

"Stop," you commanded gently, your voice a soothing balm that steadied him, even as you denied him the release he so desperately sought.

Spencer looked up with big eyes, waiting with bated breath for what was to come next. His chest rose and fell rapidly, anticipation and longing held him still, trusting you to guide him through the moment.

You rose up on your knees, positioning yourself with deliberate care, the soft, teasing smile on your lips hinting at the pleasure that awaited him. His gaze was fixed on you, awe and adoration in his eyes as he watched you take control.

Guiding his cock into your core, you moved with a grace that left him breathless, his heart racing as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of warmth and pressure that enveloped him, drawing a choked gasp from his lips as he felt himself surrounded by you.

You sank down until you were flush, ass to thighs, your bodies connected in a way that transcended the physical, leaving him trembling beneath you.

Spencer cried loud and drawn out, his noise one of ecstasy as his head fell back against the pillow, his mouth open in a silent cry of bliss. It was a vision that took your breath away, his body a canvas of sensation and emotion, every muscle taut with the intensity of the moment.

The pleasure washed over him in waves, each crest a surge of euphoria that left him gasping for breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he lost himself in the pleasure. His hands found their way to your hips, holding on as if you were his lifeline, grounding him amidst the dizzying swirl of sensation that filled his senses.

You moved with a rhythm that spoke of both tenderness and command, your body taking everything you wanted and needed from Spencer. 

“Please,” he whimpered, the word a breathless plea that slipped from his lips unbidden, hopeful this time you would listen. “Please, don’t stop, please.”

His voice was raw with emotion, the sincerity in his eyes a reflection of the trust he placed in you, the love that filled every corner of his heart as he gazed up at you, his vision of perfection and desire.

As you continued, guiding him through the waves of sensation with a skillful grace that left him breathless, Spencer knew that he was exactly where he belonged—in your arms, wrapped in the warmth of your love, the safety of your embrace.

Touch-starved and needy, now overstimulated and desperate for release, Spencer brought his fingers to your clit in hopes you would let him come again. His touch was tentative at first, the gentle pressure of his fingers a plea for more, a request for permission that you were more than willing to grant. He was caught between his desire for release and the need to please you, and every part of him was alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

“Oh, good boy, baby,” you praised, your voice a sultry murmur that sent shivers down his spine. His heart leaped at your words, the warmth of your approval wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. 

As he continued to rub your clit, his fingers moved with a deliberate precision that belied the need thrumming through him, his desire to make you feel as good as you made him. You writhed atop him, your body moving in sync with his, chasing your own release with a fervor that mirrored his own.

You could feel the tension building within you, each movement drawing you closer to the precipice, the edge of bliss that you both longed to reach. As you got closer, you purposefully clenched your walls, changing the angle in a way that made Spencer cry out in both pleasure and pain, the sensation pushing him toward the edge once more.

“Please, do that again,” he begged, his voice a breathless plea filled with desperation and hope. His eyes were wide and pleading, his need written across every line of his face.

And so you did.

With a knowing smile, you repeated the motion, the deliberate shift of your core creating a cascade of sensations that rippled through you both. Spencer’s body responded instinctively, his hips arching up to meet yours, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt himself being drawn into the depths of pleasure once more.

Every movement was a dance of desire, sensation that wrapped around you both, binding you together in a shared experience of bliss. Spencer’s fingers never faltered, his touch a constant reminder of his devotion, his eagerness to please, to bring you to the same heights of ecstasy that he longed to reach.

As you continued, the tension in your body coiled tighter, a winding thread of sensation that promised release with every thrust, every touch. Spencer’s cries mingled with your own, a duet of pleasure that filled the room, echoing off the walls as you both teetered on the brink.

You could feel the climax rising within you, a wave of bliss that built with each passing moment, drawing you inexorably toward the peak of your desire. Spencer’s fingers moved in time with the roll of your hips, bringing you right where you needed to be.

With a final surge, you gave in to the sensations, the culmination of your shared desire sweeping over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Spencer’s cry echoed yours, a harmony of whimpers and moans that filled the room, leaving you both breathless and spent in the aftermath.

Spencer thrust once more, before coming inside you. The intensity of the moment left him breathless, his body shuddering with the force of his release. You both knew he didn’t ask, but neither of you cared. The unspoken understanding between you was enough, a silent agreement that transcended words. 

Just happy to have you home and be back in each other’s arms, you both reveled in the warmth of the embrace, the security of knowing that you were where you belonged. His breath came in soft gasps as he tried to recover, the afterglow of the experience wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

“Welcome home,” Spencer murmured, his voice a whisper of contentment as he nuzzled into your neck, his arms wrapping around you with a gentle possessiveness that spoke volumes about how much he had missed you.

You smiled, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along his back, a gentle reminder of your presence, your promise to always return to him. The motion was soft and reassuring, a silent affirmation of the bond that had kept you together through time and distance. Spencer melted into your touch, the tension in his muscles slowly unwinding under your gentle caress.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered back, your voice tender and filled with sincerity. The words were a balm to his soul, soothing the ache of longing that had settled in his chest during your absence.

“I love you,” he whispered into your skin, his breath warm against your skin as he nuzzled closer, seeking the comfort and safety that only you could provide. 

“I love you more, baby,” you replied softly, your voice a gentle promise that wrapped around him like a protective embrace.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the comfort and security of each other’s arms. It was a moment of perfect peace, where nothing else mattered but the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the rhythmic beating of your hearts creating a soothing melody that lulled you both into a state of contentment.

Picture You

Summary: Spencer is a model. You are the photographer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), briefs photoshoot, use of Y/N

Word count: 3.1k

a/n: can't get mgg model days out of my head ,, but i know that guy was sooo confident ,, needed awkward spence to shake things up

main masterlist

After discovering that Derek was scouted by a modeling agency and occasionally does photo shoots for fun, Spencer Reid becomes intrigued. While he doesn’t see himself as desperately attractive, he acknowledges that his features might be somewhat pleasing. With curiosity piqued, Spencer quickly finds an agency and books a few shoots of his own. All the money he earns from the shoots is carefully set aside to fund his ongoing education—because as Spencer knows all too well, continually going back to college can be quite expensive.

—

Spencer couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place, even as he started to get used to the whole modeling thing. He enjoyed the experience in some ways, but the part where he had to “act natural” while simultaneously posing in front of a room full of people, all staring at him and snapping pictures, still made him feel incredibly awkward. Today was no exception. As he stood in the dressing room, a team of stylists fussed over his hair, skin, and the various outfits he’d be wearing—or rather, barely wearing—during the shoot. 

He gave himself his now routine mental pep talk, trying to convince his nerves that he could do this, that it wasn’t as bad as his mind was making it out to be. But the second he finally stepped onto the set, his stomach twisted painfully. He was going to puke—he was sure of it. The reason? The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing behind the camera, ready to direct today’s shoot. Spencer couldn’t believe it. You have got to be kidding me. Someone is playing a joke on me, he thought, panic and disbelief swirling inside him. 

And of course, today’s shoot had to be for men’s loungewear—specifically the kind that consisted of the thinnest, most revealing, sometimes just straight-up skin-tight briefs. The kind that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure, but all he could think was how utterly mortified he was to be standing there, about to model these barely-there garments in front of her. In front of you.

—

Spencer could feel the nervous sweat starting to form on his brow as he watched you approach, a friendly smile lighting up your face. His heart raced, and he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to flee. Most of the photographers he’d worked with simply shouted directions from behind the camera, kept things impersonal, and told him when he could leave. But, of course, you had to be the exception.

You stopped just a few steps away from him, your presence somehow both soothing and utterly terrifying at the same time. Spencer could barely muster the courage to meet your eyes as you spoke, your voice warm and genuinely kind.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” you said, extending a hand. “I’ll be the photographer for today’s shoot. I just wanted to check in and make sure there isn’t anything you’re uncomfortable with or not willing to do. I don’t want to push you.”

Spencer’s mind raced, trying to process the fact that you were not only acknowledging him but also concerned about his comfort. It was such a stark contrast to the usual experience that he was momentarily stunned into silence. He knew he should respond, say something, anything, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess. All he could think about was how close you were, how your eyes seemed to hold a genuine kindness that was making it hard for him to breathe.

Finally, he managed to find his voice, though it came out a bit shakier than he’d hoped. “Oh, um, hi. I’m Spencer. It’s, uh, nice to meet you too.” He mentally cringed at how awkward he sounded, but he pushed through. “I think, uh, everything’s fine. I mean, it’s a bit…different, but I’m okay with it. I guess I’m just, um, not used to this kind of thing.”

He wasn’t sure if he was making any sense, but the way you continued to smile at him, so patient and understanding, made him feel just a little bit more at ease. He could hardly believe someone so beautiful could also be so kind, especially in an industry that often felt cold and impersonal to him. Your presence was like a balm to his anxiety, even if he was still struggling to find his footing.

“You’re new to modeling? That’s great!” you said, your enthusiasm genuine and infectious. “Well, I won’t ask anything too crazy of you. Today should be pretty simple—cozy, casual stuff. But if at any point you’re uncomfortable or don’t like something, you let me know, okay? We can’t get this done if you’re not comfortable.”

Spencer nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around how reassuring you were being. “Okay, yeah, I will. Thank you,” he managed to say, his voice a little steadier this time.

Your eyes sparkled with encouragement, and it did wonders for his frayed nerves. “No problem at all, Spencer. We’re in this together, so communication is key.”

He was grateful for the way you made it seem like a partnership, not just a job he had to endure. The way you spoke to him, like he mattered in the process, was something he hadn’t expected. And as much as he was dreading the idea of standing there in those revealing briefs, the knowledge that you genuinely cared about his comfort made it seem a little less daunting. 

As the shoot began, Spencer emerged from the dressing area wearing a pair of thin joggers that clung just right to his long legs and a skin-tight long sleeve that left little to the imagination, highlighting every lean muscle in his torso. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked—how the clothes seemed almost tailor-made for him, accentuating his tall frame and, god, his perky nipples in the cold air of the room. It was a bit surprising, to say the least, but you quickly reminded yourself that this was a job, and you were a professional.

You raised the camera, focusing on the task at hand. “Alright, Spencer, let’s start with something simple,” you called out, keeping your voice as steady and encouraging as possible. “Just stand naturally, hands in your pockets, and look off to the side like you’re thinking about something pleasant.”

Spencer followed your direction, slipping his hands into his pockets and glancing to the side, his expression somewhere between thoughtful and serene. Through the lens, you could see the quiet intensity in his gaze, the way his features softened just slightly as he settled into the pose. He looked incredible—much better than he likely gave himself credit for—but you kept your thoughts to yourself, focusing on capturing the best possible shots.

“Perfect,” you said, your voice warm but still professional. “Now, how about we try you leaning against the wall, just relax into it, like you’re at home and completely comfortable.”

Spencer moved to the wall, resting his back against it and crossing his arms over his chest. His initial nervousness was still visible in the way his shoulders tensed slightly, but as the shoot progressed, you could see him slowly easing into the process. He was a natural, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

You clicked away, adjusting angles, and occasionally guiding his poses with gentle suggestions. “Maybe uncross your arms, let one hand rest by your side and the other in your hair,” you said, watching as he complied, his movements a little more fluid now. “Yes, just like that.”

Despite the lingering nerves that you could still sense in him, Spencer was doing remarkably well. He listened attentively, taking your guidance without hesitation, and the way he responded made your job easier than you’d anticipated.

But even as you maintained your professional demeanor, there was no denying the fact that Spencer was far more captivating than you had expected. The camera loved him, and with each click of the shutter, you found yourself more and more impressed by how effortlessly he seemed to embody the role, despite his initial discomfort.

Still, you kept those thoughts to yourself, maintaining the focus and professionalism that the job demanded. You were here to do a job, and that meant putting aside any personal reactions, no matter how difficult it might be. And as the shoot continued, you guided him with the same steady hand, making sure he felt as comfortable as possible in front of the lens.

As the shoot progressed, the outfits became increasingly revealing, each change pushing Spencer a little further out of his comfort zone. He tried to keep his mind focused, reminding himself that this was just another job, another step toward his goals, but the final outfit—the briefs—loomed ahead like a daunting challenge. No top, no bottoms, just the thinnest, most form-fitting briefs. It was one thing to model clothes that covered him, but this? This was a whole new level of vulnerability.

Back in the dressing room, Spencer took a deep breath as he slipped into the briefs, trying to calm the rising tide of anxiety in his chest. The fabric clung to him, leaving nothing to the imagination, and he couldn’t help but feel exposed, almost naked. Just as he was about to take another steadying breath, he heard a knock on the door.

“Spencer?” your voice called from the other side, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Yeah?” he squeaked, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

“I just wanted to let you know that I asked the crew to leave for this portion of the shoot,” you explained, your tone warm and considerate. “They got us all set up, but it will just be you and me. I know it can be weird to be so exposed in front of so many people.”

Spencer felt a rush of relief mixed with a new wave of nerves. “Oh, uh, thank you so much. That’s very thoughtful,” he managed to respond, trying to sound more composed than he felt.

“You got it! See you out there, stud,” you added with a playful lilt in your voice before stepping away.

Now Spencer was definitely panicking. Stud? Did you just call him stud? And the fact that it was going to be just the two of you in the room, with him standing there in nothing but his underwear? Great. Fantastic. Just what he needed to calm his nerves.

He took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror, trying to convince himself that he could do this, that it wasn’t as bad as his mind was making it out to be. But there was no turning back now. He had to do this, and he had to do it well. With one last deep breath, he stepped out of the dressing room, feeling the cool air against his bare skin, every nerve in his body tingling with a mix of anticipation and dread. The set was quiet now, the absence of the usual bustle making the space feel almost intimate, which only heightened his awareness of the situation.

And then there you were, waiting for him with that same patient, understanding smile. It should have been comforting, but all Spencer could think about was how exposed he was, how every tiny flaw was on display. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to completely embarrass himself in front of you.

But he had to push through, had to focus on the task at hand. He walked to the designated spot, feeling your eyes on him the entire time, and tried to channel every ounce of professionalism he had. This was just another shoot, he told himself. Just another shoot. Except this time, it was just you, him, and a whole lot of skin.

The shoot was going fine—Spencer kept telling himself that over and over again, trying to stay focused. But despite his best efforts, his mind was wandering, spiraling into a chaotic mess of nerves and self-consciousness. The directions you were giving him started to blur together, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to get it right. His thoughts were a million miles away, and it was showing in his awkward, stilted movements.

But instead of getting frustrated or upset, you handled it with such grace. You understood, far more than he expected anyone would. When his poses didn’t quite hit the mark, you didn’t bark orders or show any sign of impatience. Instead, you walked over to him, your steps slow and deliberate, and gently guided him into position. Your touch was light but firm, your hands on his arms, his shoulders, adjusting his posture, tilting his chin—each movement precise and careful.

Spencer’s mind went blank. Completely, utterly blank. All the mental pep talks and reassurances he had given himself earlier evaporated in an instant, leaving only the undeniable, physical reality of the moment. He was a man, after all—a man standing there in practically nothing, with a beautiful, kind, and very real woman touching him. His body reacted in a way that was completely beyond his control, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He felt the heat rush to his face as he noticed your eyes flicker downward, your own cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. You had noticed. Of course, you had noticed.

Spencer felt a wave of mortification crash over him, his heart pounding in his chest as he desperately searched for something to say. Anything to make this moment less excruciating. “I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice thick with embarrassment. 

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes, every fiber of his being screaming at him to disappear, to somehow melt into the floor and escape the mortifying situation. His body had betrayed him in the worst possible way, and now he was standing there, exposed in more ways than one, with no idea how to salvage what little dignity he had left.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you quickly composed yourself, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Um, no. no! It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, your voice filled with reassurance. You offered him a small, understanding smile, hoping to alleviate some of the embarrassment you could see written all over his face. “Happens all the time.”

Spencer looked at you, still flustered, but now with a hint of curiosity and disbelief in his eyes. “Really?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as if he wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe you or not.

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, your own cheeks still warm, before you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “Well… no,” you admitted, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation. “But it’s okay!”

Spencer blinked, his mortification momentarily giving way to confusion. The way you were handling the situation—so casual, so accepting—was both surprising and strangely comforting. It didn’t completely erase the awkwardness he felt, but it helped, if only a little.

“I mean, it’s a natural reaction,” you continued, trying to keep your tone light. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Really.” You met his gaze, your eyes full of sincerity, hoping he could see that you weren’t just saying it to make him feel better—you genuinely meant it.

Spencer’s tension eased just a fraction, the knot in his stomach loosening ever so slightly. He still felt exposed, still felt like he wanted to crawl under a rock, but your understanding made it a little easier to breathe. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice soft but grateful.

You nodded, giving him another reassuring smile as you tried to keep things as professional as possible. “We can take a break, we, uh, need you—um, soft.”

Spencer groaned in embarrassment, immediately covering his face with both hands. This couldn’t be happening. “That’s not going to happen while you’re here,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands.

“What? I didn’t hear that,” you said, leaning in slightly, trying to catch his words.

Spencer lowered his hands just enough to repeat himself, his cheeks burning with humiliation. “That, um, isn’t going to happen if you’re here,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked in surprise as the realization hit you. “Oh… oh!” you said, your own cheeks flushing slightly as you finally understood what he meant.

“Yeah… I’m sorry, I’ll just leave. This is so unprofessional,” Spencer muttered, already starting to turn away, his mind racing with thoughts of how he’d ruined everything. How could he face you after this? He was certain this was the end of his brief modeling venture.

But before he could take another step, you called out to him, your voice soft but firm. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice laced with both embarrassment and uncertainty as he paused, half-expecting you to reprimand him.

“Is it because of me, or because I’m a woman?” you asked, your tone gentle but curious.

He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the right words. “It’s… you,” he finally admitted, his voice small, the truth spilling out before he could stop it.

There was a brief moment of silence as you processed his words, and then, to his utter disbelief, you spoke up again. “In that case… do you want to get a coffee after this?”

Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, and he turned back to face you, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to process what you’d just said. “You—wait, what?” he stammered, hardly believing his ears.

“I mean, if it’s me, then maybe we should get to know each other a little better,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, though there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes. “I know this situation is… well, it’s awkward, but it doesn’t have to be the end of the world.”

Spencer could hardly believe what he was hearing. Here he was, in the most embarrassing situation of his life, and instead of being horrified or offended, you were… asking him out? It was the last thing he had expected, but as the initial shock wore off, he felt a glimmer of hope break through the embarrassment.

“I… I’d like that,” he finally managed to say, a tentative smile forming on his face. “I’d really like that.”

You nodded, relieved that he hadn’t completely shut down after your offer. “Great. Let’s finish this shoot, and then we can go.”

From that day forward, Spencer made a quiet decision—he would only model for shoots where you were the photographer.

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if you keep liking my posts we’re gonna end up like this

Rossi: Well, I can't help it! I'm Italian! Flirting is part of my heritage!

Reid: What does that mean?

Emily, passing by with a cup of coffee: It means his father was a slut too.