This Gif Is Something I Take Extremely Seriously

Thots on husband lu😔…….

Husband Luigi headcanons <3

AGHH omg omg he’s sooo husband. He would make the perfect husband.

⟡ husband Luigi who makes sure you always have fresh flowers in the vase in the kitchen. He buys you a new bouquet every week, surprising you with whatever is in season. Tulips and daffodils in the spring, dahlias in the fall, snowdrops in the winter and hydrangeas and lillys in the summer. He keeps one flower from every bouquet before you throw it out and dries it out, taping it into a book with the date. He keeps the book in his home office, flicking through the pages, picturing your smile and the way your face lights up every time he gifts you a bouquet.

⟡ husband Luigi who takes notice of all the little things. His brain is like a sponge soaking in information and retaining it. He remembers all the little things you mention, even if you don’t. You drive past a little cafe and you comment on how it “looks cute” so for your next date Luigi will take you there. You mention how you’re out of lotion and luigi will run to the store after work to pick some up for you. And yes, he remembers what lotion you use! You tell him you have a crick in your neck and he’ll buy you a massage gun or look into alternative chair options because the flimsy office chair you have doesn’t provide sufficient support. He learns massage techniques online to help alleviate the discomfort. You send him a funny video of couples yoga or Pilates and he’ll book you both in for a session on your day off. He’ll spend the whole day pampering you.

⟡ husband Luigi who enjoys the mundane domestic chores as long as you’re together. He makes every task a paired task. Need a hand changing the bedsheets, he’ll strip the sheets if you put the new ones on. Need a hand washing the dishes? He’ll wash if you dry. He’ll be yapping away the whole time and you enjoy listening contently to his interesting stories and educated takes about every little thing. Whether it be medicine, politics, cinema or even juicy gossip, he always has something interesting to add.

⟡ husband Luigi who is the calm to your storm. He always has a solution to your problems. Granted, you tend to panic and overthink about the little things but Luigi is always there with an answer to every problem.

⟡ husband Luigi who is mindful of how he goes about teaching you things. He wants to be your Prince Charming, swoop in and do all the work. If he had it his way you wouldn’t have to worry about lifting a finger, but he knows how important it is for you both to have the knowledge and understanding of how things work. But he makes sure to not come across as condescending or as if he’s “mansplaining” something to you. For example you have a rattling sound coming from your car so he guides you out with him, popping the hood and giving everything a once over. He finds the issue and calmly walks you through it, explaining exactly what needs to be done to fix it. He gets his tools out and instructs you on what to do and how to fix it. He is also adamant that you teach him things he doesn’t know. He’s never afraid to ask questions or admit if he doesn’t understand something. He doesn’t fear looking stupid because he knows he isn’t. He’s a little cocky about it but you like that about him.

⟡ husband Luigi who tracks your cycle to know exactly how you’ll be feeling and how he can make it easier for you. He knows when your period is due so will be sure to stock up on snack, warm drinks and have a hot water bottle and plenty of pillows handy. He reminds you to keep your fluids up and cooks your hearty healthy meals to make sure you’re fuelling your body properly. Offering a shoulder to cry on when you have mode swings and knowing that you need alone time occasionally. He knows that during your follicular phase you’ll have your energy back. He plans fun dates and hikes for you to take and even books couples workout sessions for you both. During ovulation he is well aware of your needs and how to care for them. He even teases you by wearing your favourite outfits like grey sweatpants and a black tshirt with a simple gold chain hanging from his neck. He walks around the house nonchalantly, smirking to himself because he knows it drives you crazy. He tries to mix it up in the bedroom by introducing new positions or encouraging you to try new things or new toys to make sure you get as much pleasure out of it as you can. He goes multiple rounds eventually allowing you to just use him until you’re fully satiated ;) During your luteal phase you suffer horrible mood swings leaving you irritable often resulting in you lashing out and then feeling horrible. He knows how to avoid pushing your buttons and lets you take your anger out on him. He never takes it personally and is always there to offer a cuddle and some sweet treats for when you need it. Your boobs are often sore and you feel bloated and have crazy headaches. He’s always there to offer up a hot water bottle, painkillers and some fresh fruit juice to help keep your energy up. He even cuddles with you and massages your boobs to help the pain and soreness.

⟡ husband Luigi who loooves when you wear his clothes. Especially after he’s taken them off. Before you moved in together he would *accidentally* leave his clothes at your place for you to sleep in. Oversized hoodies or basketball shorts whatever he thought would be comfy for you. Now that you’re married he loves when you go through his clothes picking random T-shirts or hoodies with nothing but your underwear on to wear on a lazy Sunday. He especially loves when you wear nothing but his button ups after sex. You wrap your arms around yourself or button up one or two buttons so your boobs are poking out through the top. The shirt is long enough to cover up your ass but one small move and you’re exposed to him.

⟡ husband Luigi who sends you messages and voice notes all day giving you little update on his day. He sends you pictures of the sky or of a cute cat he spotted on the street. He’ll send you voice notes that go on for minutes about a delicious sandwich he ate. Or maybe ranting about how much work he has to do and feels a little overwhelmed about. If he needs to run to the store to grab something for himself he’ll always text you to ask if you need anything. He likes to keep you updated and enjoys seeing your updates too. You send him funny pictures back or have a selection of reaction photos saved and he always tries to guess which one you’ll use. He knows you so well.

Tag list 🏷️: @multi-culti-girl @sabrininaa (comment to be added)

Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds) Chapter 35

A little recap feels a bit appropriate.

Because once again you wake with a warm body pressed to you. Looking over, you blush.

“I really lack self control.”

This has definitely happened already.

~Last Night~

“I should have remembered sooner. I shouldn’t have forgotten. (Y/N) I’m-”

You quiet his apologies, kissing him again. Hotch’s hand slips into your hair. When you begin tugging at his jacket, he doesn’t need to solve that mystery. You want it gone.

Retracting, he can see the desire that’s clear on your face. The unfiltered love. You’ve been hoping for this far too long to sit around blaming him for something that was so out of his control. His jacket hits the ground so fast, and you practically pounce on him.

“It’s real. This is real. Is it real?”

There is so much running through your head.

You’re pawing at him, and he isn’t exactly complaining. You can’t do much but moan when your back connects with a wall. Your hands move to your own clothing, fighting to get rid of it. You only manage getting out of the shirt.

“Slow down.”

It’s a whisper, and you whine.

You really don’t want to. Lowering your hands, you finally get a chance to fully breathe. Hotch smiles at you.

“Are you that eager to get me naked?”

You can’t fight the blush, or deny his words.

“You’re such a child sometimes I swear.”

He enjoys teasing you too much. Hotch leaves a kiss right on your forehead.

“I love you.”

Just those words are enough to make you crumble.

You pull him back down for a kiss and he accepts eagerly. He smiles into the kiss as you begin leading him towards the bedroom. You both fumble up the stairs and the second you make it into the bedroom, you’re annoyed that he’s still in his suit. You’d only managed to get the jacket off.

He must pick up on your annoyance, because he smiles again. His fingers slip between the knot of his tie, and he loosens it, sliding it right out of the collar. You sort of stare at the action.

“Woah..”

He grins.

“What is it?”

“I thought that one hand tie removal thing was only in the movies.” He raises a brow, that grin still planted on his lips. You’re still admiring him, taking in the situation. You reach for him this time, and this kiss you share is slower, soft.

He welcomes it, hands settling on your hips. You’ve been longing for this the minute you came back. It’s still hard to grasp, because you were convinced that Hotch would never look at you that way again. It was painful, but the sheer happiness on his face when he talks about Jack and Hayley, it’s what has given you the strength. You pull back, licking your lips.

“I love you Hotch.”

He smiles, pressing a deeper kiss, one that you return, giggling when he takes you to the bed.

That night was everything that you’d hoped for. You had the love of your life back, he had his family. You couldn’t describe how blessed you were. When you wake the following morning it still feels like a dream.

You turn over in the covers and he’s laying right there. Dark hair, disheveled, but so very handsome. Your fingers run through the short locks appreciatively. The action makes him stir. His head faces you, eyes just barely opening.

“Good morning.”

Hotch’s sleepy voice greets.

You smile. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You didn’t run out this time, that’s a good sign.”

“I-In my defense I had just slept with my boss. I’m not that great at personal confrontation.”

He knows that. It was cute watching you get shy over something like this.

He brushes your hair to the side, admiring the red marks on your neck. He knows for a fact when you’re getting dressed today you’ll probably bypass them and ultimately get probed by Garcia about it. He can’t wait to see your reaction to that.

“Why are you grinning like that?”

“No reason.” He replies.

“Hmmm.”

You don’t believe him for a second. You look down. Lifting the blanket to take a peak.

“H-Hey, when did you get those boxers on?” You accuse.

“About round three when you were completely knocked out. I woke up to get you a drink, but you just mumbled about me being a beast and fell asleep.”

“O-Oh.”

You remembered that. Your cheeks are glowing. He really was a beast.

“We should get ready, we have work in two hours."

He’s right.

Although it’s his suggestion, he’s looking at you like he wants to stay in bed and go through a couple more rounds.

“Then we should really-w-what are you doing?”

He slides under the covers, and you figure it out when his hands gently grip your thighs.

“Shit..”

Your head drops back on your pillow, and you grip at the sheets.

“A-Aaron w-wait we really should..”

You can’t complete the thought. He’s kissing along your thighs. The closer he gets, the less you resist. When his lips finally land where you need them, you moan.

You are definitely going to be late for work. 

Warm Embrace

Summary: Spencer and his wife explore ways to be intimate with each other after a traumatic event

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Please read the CW, this story contains potentially triggering topics! 

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) referenced past SA of Reader (non-graphic), implied flashbacks, trauma related sexual problems, conversations about sex and intimacy, nudity, kissing, mutual masturbation, handjob, thigh riding

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“Spencer?” Your voice echoed through the apartment when you stepped through the door and found no sign of your husband. 

A distant sound came from the bathroom. “In here!” 

After a quiet knock on the door and his confirmation that you could step in, you found Spencer sitting in the bathtub. The room was filled with the lavender scent of the bath soap and what you could see of his body was covered in bubbles. It almost looked comical how his knees stuck out of the water, making it obvious that the tub was not big enough to accommodate his long limbs. 

“I was too tired to take a shower,” he explained after discovering your curious expression. 

“I can see that,” you laughed. “I thought you hated taking baths.”

“Honestly, I think I’m starting to understand why you like them so much. This isn't too bad.”

You stood there for a few moments, smiling at the sight in front of you. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you slowly began shedding your clothes. 

“Mind if I join you?” you wondered. 

Nothing about this situation would be unusual for any other married couple. Just a few months ago neither of you would have questioned your actions. Back then initiating any form of intimacy with each other felt natural and familiar. 

Things were different now, though. 

Spencer cleared his throat and shifted his position. “Are you sure about this?”

There was a reason to ask. For the past months any attempt to get close to each other resulted in you crying for the rest of the night. Something as simple as him placing his hand on your thigh was enough to startle you. 

A sigh rolled over your lips as you dropped your shirt to the floor. “No,” you confessed. “But I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” he reminded you.

That was not what you meant and he knew that. Of course he understood the meaning of your words. Spencer was well aware of the fact that ever since that son of a bitch hurt you, you fought a constant battle between wanting his nearness and pushing him away. 

Your husband gave you the space you needed and was there to hold you whenever you’d let him. It couldn't have been easy for him either but he never once complained about this new reality you had a live. 

A reality where that person took something from you that you’d never get back. It was hard to shake this feeling of being tainted after having your physical integrity stripped away like that. You were distant and closed off when it came to intimacy, despite your best efforts to get back to what once was normal. It had been months since Spencer even saw you unclothed.

That was about to change. 

Slowly, you pulled down your pants before reaching back to undo your bra. Spencer's sight followed the piece of clothing as it dropped to the floor before settling on your face again. 

“Stop profiling me,” you warned him with a playful undertone in your voice. 

“Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

By pulling down your panties, you shed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely bare in front of your husband. It was a strange feeling to reveal yourself to him. It felt new yet familiar to allow him to see you. 

However, he didn't dare to look, even when you approached the tub. It wasn't clear whether he just tried to be respectful or if seeing you like this for the first time after months was too much for him to bear. His reaction reminded you that he never answered your question about you joining him. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t okay with this. 

Spencer’s eyes widened as he noticed the change of your mood before you did. Within a split second your heart started pounding and you stepped back to reach for your bathrobe. 

“Sorry, this was a stupid idea,” you muttered as you turned around to shield your body from his sight and your heart from the rejection. 

“My love,” he cooed from behind you.

The sound of splashing water gave away that he was exiting the tub. From the corner of your eyes you saw how he reached for his own robe. 

You felt his presence behind you. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded as you turned around, finding him wrapped in his robe with water still dripping from his jawline. Spencer reached out his hands to pull you into his arms. 

“What just happened?” He wondered, his voice laced with concern. 

Before you could think about it, you mumbled, “You didn't want to look at me.”

Your husband thought about your words for a moment, replaying the scene that had just unfolded in his mind. What you said wasn’t true. He wanted to look at you, to admire you fully like he had done countless times before. 

“I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable,” he confessed as he pulled back to be able to find your eyes. 

It was hard to read your expression which was not surprising considering you were mostly confused about your current state yourself.

“I miss the way you used to look at my body. I miss being close to you,” you whispered and paused for a moment. “I miss… sex.”

He closed his eyes before placing an innocent kiss on your forehead. “I know,” he breathed. Me too, he thought.

“Do you still think about it?” You wanted to know. 

“Sex?” 

Nodding, you watched his facial features intently. Ever since your attack, there were many occasions when the two of you had tiptoed around this subject. But never before had you been so blunt about it. 

It seemed like he was looking for the right words. “Yes, I do,” was what he settled on.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “With me?” 

The insecurity in your question wasn’t lost on Spencer but he still couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. “Of course, silly girl. You're my wife.”

“It’s just been so long that I would understand if you ever thought about doing it with someone else.”

“Stop that right now,” he said with a firm yet loving tone. “I would never cheat on you.” 

A shaky breath escaped your throat before you dared to say what had been bugging you for weeks now. “What if I’ll never be ready? What if things won’t ever be like before?” 

“That would be okay, too,” he reassured you. “There are many ways to create nearness and intimacy. Sex is just one way but it’s not necessary. At least for me it’s not.” 

“So you’d be okay to live without sex?” 

“Before I met you I thought that was my only option,” he quipped. 

You knew there had been a handful of women before you but you appreciated his joke nonetheless. It made you smile. 

Spencer let his fingertips brush over your cheeks. “But to answer your question, yes, I would be okay with that.”

His words were genuine. The way he looked at you with the most loving expression made your heart jump. The amber of his irises radiated a warmth you could get drunk on. You nestled your head against his chest and he held you even closer against his body. He was right. Sex wasn’t necessary to create nearness. However, you were still curious about what else you felt safe enough to try. 

“I want to get into the bathtub with you,” you whispered. “And I want you to look at me.” 

Loosening the embrace, you looked at your husband. With a nod he confirmed that he wanted that, too. 

With shaking fingers you brushed over his robe before gripping the material. “And I want to see you, too.”

Together you helped each other out of your robes until you stood bare in front of each other. You took a moment to admire the man in front of you. It had been a while since you had seen him like that. Unlike you he didn't deliberately hide his body from your sight but there hadn’t been many occasions in the past few months that allowed you to see him unclothed. 

His body looked familiar yet different at the same time. His tummy was a little bit softer than you remembered and you imagined what it would feel like underneath your palm. 

Spencer dared to let his eyes drop down to take in every inch of skin within sight. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and you noticed how it broke out in goosebumps. 

“You're so beautiful,” he purred as he tentatively brushed over your arms. 

Tilting your head, you placed a soft kiss on his lips before breathing against them, “So are you.”

He took your hand in his to walk you over to the bathtub. Your husband got in first, bending his knees in an attempt to make himself smaller than he was. There was enough space to join him, a relieved sigh falling from your lips when you felt the warm water enveloping your body. 

First you sat a little awkwardly opposite one another for a few moments before you felt confident enough to get closer. Gently, you placed your hands on his knees to part them before moving closer to lean against his body sitting between his legs. Spencer’s heart pounded rapidly against his ribcage as you nestled against his chest. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I uh… I’m not sure where to put my hands,” he chuckled and you noticed how they hovered above the edge of the bathtub. 

Taking his hands in yours, you guided them towards the water, placing them underneath your chest. Even though you expected his touch, you still jerked when you felt his palms make contact with your body. 

Instinctively, your husband wanted to retract his hands again but you held them still with your own palms pressed against them. Once the initial shock faded, you were certain that you wanted to be held exactly like that. 

A part of you still wanted to fight this vulnerable situation but a much bigger, much more confident part longed to be close to the love of your life. 

It was as if Spencer sensed your ambiguity. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed. Then you thought about the way your body flinched when he touched you. It had happened before each time Spencer had touched you in places that he had touched, too. “I just feel like my body has to relearn a couple of things.”

Spencer nodded before finally being able to relax a bit. He leaned back while holding you against him, relishing the sensation of having you close without any barriers between you. Just for a moment he forgot about what had happened to you and to your own surprise, so did you. 

For the following weeks you made it a new habit to take baths with each other. There was something so sweet about getting clean together, it became a sacred ritual you wanted to repeat over and over. 

Slowly but surely you got more comfortable around Spencer. There was a time when you didn't think it was possible that the two of you would cuddle every night and every morning without constantly having to fear that you’d freak out at any given moment. 

But just like that it happened. Spencer didn't have to think twice about hugging you from behind and leaving a feather-light kiss on your neck. He didn't hesitate to pull you into his arms when he woke up before you. 

He did however wake up in shock and almost jumped out of bed when one morning he realized he had sleepily pressed his erection against your thigh. Having woken up before him, you had noticed it, too. You could have easily moved away but found no reason to do so.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured as he moved away from you, his voice still sounding raspy from his slumber.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Spencer. I know basic biology,” you snickered. “Now come back here.”

Hesitantly, he moved back towards your open arms. The warmth you radiated was too hard to resist so it took very little convincing for him to find his place inside your embrace again. 

Gentle fingertips danced along his arms, making him hum in contentment. It had always amazed you how his skin felt so particularly soft and tender in the morning. His curls hung unruly from his head and you couldn't resist intertwining your fingers with them. 

You thought back to the many times you had woken up like this. Back then when it still was normal for your hands to become curious enough to explore every curve and dip of each other’s bodies. 

It was odd to think about before. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime away, other times it felt like nothing had ever changed. It made you feel like the man who hurt you had the power to bring a new time reckoning upon you. You didn't want him to. 

It only spurred you further on to fully reclaim your body again. 

Your fingers found Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head just enough for you to be able to kiss him. His lips felt so soft as he slowly reciprocated your actions. It was sweet and innocent at first but your desire to feel more of him only grew the longer you kissed. Slightly shifting your leg you could feel his hardness again, making him whimper at the sudden pressure against it. 

As your hand found its way under his shirt, you brushed over the softness of his tummy. Shaking fingertips followed the trail of hair leading further down before changing their direction and moving upwards to feel his chest. The beating of his heart was faster than usual, almost erratic. 

With cautious motions he mirrored your eagerness and let his palm wander beneath your shirt as well. You deepened the kiss when you felt his fingers wander over your waist, leaving goosebumps on their path. Spencer became hungry, almost desperate as his tongue brushed over yours, melting into you in a way he hadn’t for too long. 

It was what you longed for too, what you had been hoping to finally be ready for. 

Then he touched your breast and it all came crashing down again. 

“Stop!” 

Healing really wasn’t linear. 

In an instant Spencer retracted his hand and leaned back to give you some space. Widened eyes looked back at him and it took both of you a second to realize what had just happened. Before he could apologize, you did. 

“I’m sorry… I really thought I was okay with that.”

For a moment Spencer closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he looked at you again, a soft expression on his face. “Please don’t ever feel the need to apologize for that,” he cooed. 

Unlike other times, you were able to calm down quickly. Instead of pushing your husband further away, you still yearned for his proximity. He seemed surprised when you moved closer to him again to lay your head down on his chest. Content to still have the privilege to hold you close, he wrapped his arms around you before a relieved sigh fell from his lips. 

There was no need to leave the comfort of your shared bed just yet, so you just lay there together, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Spencer placed a gentle kiss into your hair before breathing, “I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You tried your best to be kind to yourself in that moment. It was a learning opportunity for you. Just a few weeks ago lying close to your husband like that was unthinkable. Even if they felt like baby steps at the time, it was still progress. 

The images of recent intimate encounters flooded your mind and let a pleasant calmness spread through your body. Spencer’s kisses tasted sweet and made you feel insatiable, always longing for more. Feeling his skin pressed against yours as he held you close in the bathtub enveloped you in a safe feeling unlike anything else. 

You thought back to those rare moments when you considered taking things further lately, just like you had tried just now. There was something you had wondered about. 

“I have noticed that when we cuddle…,” you began your sentence, unsure of how to continue. “Even when we’re naked in the bathtub together, you uhm… never get aroused? That was very different before.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he let out an awkward laugh. “I try really hard not to. I think about baseball a lot.” 

His response confused you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you raised your eyebrows at him. “You think about baseball when we’re taking baths together? You don’t even like sports.” 

Spencer just shrugged and added, “Sometimes I try to solve equations, too.”

“Please don’t do that anymore,” you pleaded as you laid back down beside him. “It makes me feel good to see you’re still interested in me.” 

“Of course I am still interested. I just really do not want to make you uncomfortable or feel pressured in any way.”

Your words were genuine when you said, “I don’t think that will happen. I actually really liked seeing you in all of your morning glory earlier.”

Your husband smiled at you. “Yeah?”

A smirk formed on your face. “It reminded me of the countless times we were both late for work because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves after waking up.” 

“That was fun,” Spencer chuckled. “What wasn’t fun though was the conversation I had to have with Hotch after being late four days in a row.” 

His words made you laugh, too. Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, your husband hesitantly asked, “Can I ask you something?” 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you responded, “Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer this but I’m wondering… Do you ever get aroused in those moments, too?” 

You were used to talking openly about intimacy with your husband, that had always been a normal part of your relationship. His question didn't feel odd and you wanted to respond to it. 

For a long time after what happened, your longing to feel his nearness wasn’t connected to any sexual desires. At times you even felt like your libido had gotten lost entirely. Recently that had changed. 

More and more you had become aware of the little spark inside you that was ignited when you were with him. It was very different from the burning flame that was there before but your desire grew each time you were together. 

“Lately, yes,” you sincerely answered. Thinking about it some more, you decided to share another detail with him. “I even started uhm… touching myself again.”

Spencer seemed a little surprised by your response. “You did? That's good to hear.” His palm brushed gently over your arm when he added, “I can imagine that's a good way to feel a connection to your body and your needs.” 

For a second you thought he might start one of his ramblings to share all his knowledge about the health benefits of masturbating. He didn't, though. 

“Yeah, it feels nice. Almost normal,” you said instead. “I obviously still have a long way to go when it comes to sex but… I finally feel like I’ll actually get there, eventually.”

“There's no rush,” he reminded you. “We have all the time in the world.” 

Your lips met his in a tender kiss. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” 

After a few more moments of enjoying each other's company, it was time to get up and get ready for the workday. That night you found yourself tangled up in bed with your husband again. 

As you breathed in his scent and felt the heat radiating off his skin, you noticed it again – the little spark inside your chest flared up and spread a tingling sensation through your body. 

Your mouth found Spencer's neck to leave a trail of kisses along it, before it moved over his jawline and found his lips at last. He hummed when you kissed him and you could feel his fingertips twitching against your waist. 

It didn't take long until you deepened the kiss, a quiet moan slipping through your lips when Spencer’s tongue found yours. 

With your body pressed against his you didn't allow any distance between the two of you. It still wasn’t enough for you, though. There was too much fabric in the way of really feeling close to him. 

Your hand moved to the hem of his shirt to grip it and impatiently push it upwards. Spencer moved with you as you pulled it over his head. When your fingers moved to the waistband of his pajama pants next, he interrupted the kiss to find your eyes. 

A smile was painted over your face when you nodded, reassuring him that you were okay. You weren’t sure yet where exactly this was going but you felt safe enough to explore your options.

“We can stop or slow down at any point,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

After kissing him again, you sat up so you could continue undressing him. Slowly you pulled down his pants, an audible breath falling from your lips when you saw he was already half-hard. 

Spencer scanned your face for any sign of discomfort but found none. What he saw instead was excitement and curiosity. It made him smile. 

He sat up and brushed his hands over the fabric of your shirt. By lifting your arms over your head you gave him the sign he needed to remove the piece of fabric. He gently motioned for you to lay back down before he made contact with your hips, carefully brushing over your pajama shorts. 

There was no hesitation to be found when you lifted your hips for him to pull them down, without ever breaking eye contact. You thought about how different this situation was from being naked with him in the bathtub. Some parts of you remained hidden from him even then. 

You wanted him to see you, even when being exposed to him like that still felt a little scary.

After he had dropped the last piece of clothing on the floor, you dared to open your thighs for him to see every part of you. A rosy shade spread over his cheeks as he dared to look at you. It reminded you of when you were with him for the very first time many years ago. 

Just like then, he breathed, “You're so beautiful.” 

You could feel how some arousal had already gathered at your center and wondered if Spencer could see the glistening. By the way his pupils dilated you had a hunch that he did. 

Then, after he had fully taken in your beauty, it was as if he was frozen in place. He used to be so confident in situations like that, knowing your body better than his own and never questioning his next move. Things were very different now and you both sensed it. 

His eyes met yours and it became obvious how unsure he was of how to proceed. 

Opening your arms, you cooed, “Come here, love.” 

He seemed relieved when he lay back down beside you again. You wanted to kiss him but he hesitated. 

After a moment, he suggested, “I think it would be helpful if you talked to me more. I need you to tell me exactly what you want to do.”

“I’m figuring this out as we go, too,” you explained. “Right now I don't know where this is going. I only know that I really want to kiss you.”

His nose brushed against yours. “I would really like that, too.”

Just a split second later you got lost in another kiss. The way your bodies were pressed against one another while your lips were connected let you briefly forget where your body ended and his began. After shifting your position, you became well aware of that again. 

Spencer was fully hard now and his erection was firmly pressed against your thigh. You moved your leg slightly, prompting him to whimper into your mouth. The hand on your waist moved down to your hip and his fingertips pressed into your skin. 

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. “Can we slow down for a moment?” 

His grip on your hip lightened immediately before he moved his hand back up to your waist. Spencer placed one last peck on your mouth and pulled back. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head. “No, I just need a little break. To make sure it doesn't get too much.” 

The truth was that you felt really good in that moment. Excited, loved and so, so turned on. It just felt safer to take things slowly. Gently you pushed against his shoulder until he was lying on his back. You found your home inside his arms. 

Your lips grazed over his cheek as you breathed, “How are you feeling, Spencer?” 

He chuckled at your question. “You have no idea how good I’m feeling right now.” 

As you let your head rest on his shoulder, you dared to look down at his body. The extent of his desire laid on his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum had formed at his tip. Your fingers itched to touch him, to remember how hot and heavy his cock always felt inside your palm. 

A curious hand made its way down his chest, over the side of his stomach, brushing along his thigh. For a second you hesitated but then you let your palm hover over his hardness. 

Then you felt a pit form in your stomach and decided to retract your hand again. It might have just been your nervousness but that didn't change the fact that you couldn't continue in this moment. 

Your husband had watched each of your motions intently. It was obvious that he was burning to find relief. 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you purred, “I want you to feel good.”

“It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You knew that, of course. There was still something else you could do together. 

As you began kissing his neck, his throat vibrated under your lips and a moan escaped his mouth. Then, you whispered into his ear, “I want you to touch yourself.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your request and the rosy color on his cheeks turned a shade darker. It seemed like he needed a little more encouragement, so you lay back down inside his arm and opened your legs to give yourself access. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” you teased as you let your hand wander down your own body. 

Mesmerized by the sight, his eyes followed the path of your fingers. When you parted your folds to access your most sensitive spot, Spencer hissed a curse. 

The honeyed wetness between your legs made it easy for your fingertips to move through your folds. It felt relieving to touch yourself like that. Just like Spencer you were yearning for release. 

When your husband heard your heavy sighs as you pleasured yourself, he couldn't hold back anymore. You watched as his hand found his cock, a view that let your heart pound inside your chest. 

First, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and squeezed, prompting droplets of his arousal to run down his tip. Then, he swiped his thumb over the leaking head before he slowly began moving up and down. Your mouth hung open as you watched that sinful scene unfold in front of you. 

As Spencer accelerated the pace of his fist, sounds of pleasure filled the room. His eyebrows were scrunched up and desperation was written all over his face. 

He had never looked more beautiful.

Distracted by the mesmerizing view, the hand at your core stopped moving. Instead of continuing, you let it wander away from your body to touch Spencer’s thigh. Before you could overthink it, your hand kept moving to his center. 

A heavy breath fell from his lips as your fingertips cautiously brushed over the velvety skin of his balls, making his body jerk underneath you. Smiling to yourself, you remembered how sensitive he was. 

Spencer stopped moving his hand, waiting to see how you’d proceed. When you touched the soft curls at his base, he whimpered. It was then that you realized that you were not scared anymore and that your nervousness had turned into excitement. 

“Can I continue?”

Spencer audibly gulped before removing his hand. “Yes… please.” 

When you wrapped your fingers around his length, both of you moaned in unison. Holding him in your hand like that felt both familiar and novel at the same time. You started moving your palm and quickly remembered how exactly he liked to be touched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels good!” 

With all the built-up tension and those months of abstinence, it only took a few moments until Spencer was getting close to reaching his point of no return. Familiar with all the telltale signs of his impending climax, you continued caressing him. Coming closer to his undoing, his cock twitched inside your palm and his entire body started quivering. 

His release began spilling over your hand and onto his stomach while he kept pulsing against your fingers. You kissed his jaw and his neck before you reached for the tissues on your nightstand to do some damage control of the mess you had created. 

Your husband’s chest was still heaving when you finished cleaning him up. Concern was written all over his face when he found your eyes.

He pulled you back into his embrace as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I am. That was really fun,” you snickered. 

Spencer's hand brushed over your back as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth. “Do you want me to touch you?”

The truth was that your entire body was aching for his touch. You could feel the heat burning between your legs and were aware that your arousal had started coating the insides of your thighs. It had been a long time since you’d felt so turned on. 

And yet, the thought of him actually doing something about it made you nervous. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I would like to kiss you again, though.”

He let out a breathy laugh before finding your mouth once more. Feeling his lips on yours only blazed up the fire burning inside you. You shifted your position until you were hovering over your husband, one of his thighs pressed between yours. 

Tentatively you began rocking your hips against his leg, sighing as you realized how pleasant the friction was. 

“Is that okay?” You breathed against his lips as you kept moving. 

“More than okay,” he reassured you. “Use my body however you like.”

You sat up as you ground against his skin, feeling him tense his thigh underneath you. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your hips so he could help you move. Soon you had created a mess on his leg as you spread your wetness along his skin. 

With your entire entire body twitching, your motions became erratic. Looking down at Spencer, you found him staring at you with lust-filled eyes and a wicked grin painted over his face. 

As you danced along the edge of euphoria, you forgot your surroundings. It was only you and him right then. “I love you,” you whimpered and before your husband could respond, you collapsed into his arms as pleasure overcame you. You kept pressing your core against his leg as your whole body shook. 

Spencer held you firmly inside his arms as you came down from your high. He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you more.”

After your heart rate had come down to a normal frequency and you weren’t panting anymore, you kissed your husband. 

“How are you feeling?” He wanted to know. 

“Good. And also a little sticky,” you snickered, hinting at the mess you had created between your legs. 

“Yeah, me too,” Spencer chuckled. “How about I run us a bath so we can get cleaned up?” 

The prospect of that made your heart flutter. “That sounds wonderful.”

Author's Note: Writing this story took me two years and I am so relieved I was finally able to get it to paper. I hope reading it felt as cathartic for you as writing it was for me. Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate a reblog and a comment.

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

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 — SPENCER REID

divider credit: cafekitsune

PARING: spencer reid x fem reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!! (18+) porn with plot (more plot tbh), soft !dom spencer, oral (fem receiving) praise, aftercare, fluff, spencer being a dorky nerd, a teeny tiny bit of angst. pet names; sweetheart, pretty girl, baby

SUMMARY: You've taken some time off work after nearly getting killed in the field. So you spend your time baking. A sweet and sugary moment between you and Spencer becomes much more...sinful.

WORD COUNT : 8,3k

Notes: this man is so smexy I wanna smooch all over his face. btw this is more fluff than smut. I got carried away with them being sweet. this is not proofread.

Three weeks had passed since you were discharged from the hospital, Spencer had been extremely worried, his brain had worked nonstop to come up with ways on how to better protect you. You'd never seen him so on edge, he was usually very relaxed, sometimes a bit awkward, but never anxious.

Spencer had practically forced you to stay home and rest, the wound still wasn't healed and you had to take care of it. He left a first aid kit right next to the bed and he made you promise you'd apply the ointment every few hours.

You had spent the weeks catching up with your favorite shows and reading some of the books that belonged to Spencer. And all in all just trying to take care of yourself, both physically and mentally.

As you continued to mix the batter of the cupcakes, the silence in the home became almost deafening. Being away from work for so long didn't help, you wanted to be out in the field again, fighting crime, working with Spencer and the team. But you also knew that you had to listen to Spencer and stay home a little while longer.

The sound of keys in the lock pulled you out of your thoughts, and you knew instantly that Spencer was coming home.

The front door opened and Spencer stepped trough the door, immediately he could smell the cupcakes that you were baking. Taking his shoes off, he placed them neatly on the shoe rack before he hung his jacket away.

Slowly he entered the living room, his gaze falling onto you in the kitchen. You didn't look up, your back turned to him as you continued to mix the batter. He could recognize that body language, you were upset.

"Hey," he spoke gently, walking into the kitchen, taking off his tie as he made his way towards you. He didn't touch you yet, knowing how you were feeling. Stopping right behind you, he leaned in slightly. He smelled good, he could smell the familiar scent of sugar, and he knew that you had stolen one of his shirts again.

He gently placed the tie on the counter next to you, quietly observing you as you worked. The silence between you was tense.

After a few moments, he gently touched your hips, his touch light, as if he was scared he'd hurt you, he slowly turned you around, his eyes meeting yours.

He observed you, noticing your slightly flushed cheeks and how you avoided his gaze. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" he muttered, one hand slowly moving up to your face, cupping your chin, his thumb stroking your skin.

He tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He could see the emotions flicker trough your eyes, the frustration, the insecurity, the restlessness.

Slowly, his other hand caressed your hip. "Talk to me, baby," he whispered, his voice soft and comforting.

He observed your expression carefully, noticing how your forehead was slightly creased, your jaw clenched. He knew that you were holding back, trying to keep everything bottled up inside of you. He was worried about you, he knew how hard it was for you to be home and away from the BAU, but he also knew that your health was more important.

His hand on your hip slowly moved up to your stomach, his large hand feeling over the healing scar.

Your heart clenched at the gentle contact of his hand on your stomach, the memory of the stabbing still fresh in your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Looking up at Spencer, you swallowed, trying to find the right words. "I'm just... I'm feeling frustrated. I want to be out there, helping the team, doing what I love," you finally admit, your voice laced with frustration.

Spencer nodded, a soft expression crossing his face. He understood how you were feeling. You were a determined, hard-working person, and being forced to stay home and rest was probably the last thing you wanted to do.

"I know you're frustrated, my love," he said, his voice still gentle, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your hip. "But you have to give yourself time to heal. You were badly hurt, we were all worried about you..."

He gently pulled you closer, his other hand moving to rest on the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

"I know it's hard, but you need to focus on your recovery right now. Healing takes time, but I promise it'll be worth it in the end." He spoke, his brown eyes locking onto yours, trying to reassure you.

His touch was warm and comforting, and you couldn't help but lean into his embrace. He was right, you knew deep down that you needed to focus on healing and recovering, but it was so hard to be patient when you wanted nothing more than to be back at the BAU.

"I just... I hate feeling weak," you admitted, your voice quiet and vulnerable. "I feel like I'm letting everyone down by being home like this."

"You're not weak," he said firmly, his grip on you tightening slightly. "You got hurt, yes, but that doesn't make you weak. You are strong, stronger than you know. And you're not letting anyone down by taking time to heal. If anything, you're helping us all by focusing on your health."

He gently threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and soothing. "We all want you back at the BAU as soon as possible, but we also want you back healthy and whole. And that means taking the time to recover properly."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You're a valuable member of the team, but your health and well-being are more important than anything else. So please, be patient and take care of yourself. For us, for me..."

His words were like a soothing balm to your frustrated heart. You knew he was right, and you knew that taking the time to heal was the right thing to do, even if it was hard.

Nodding slightly in response, you leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "I'll do my best," you mumbled against his shirt, your voice slightly muffled. "It's just so hard to wait."

He held you close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath your forehead. "I know it's hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "But I'll be here with you every step of the way. I'll help take care of you, make sure you're eating and resting properly."

His grip on you loosened slightly, and his hands began to glide over your back, rubbing soft circles. "And I know the team misses you too. But they understand that your health is our top priority right now."

You couldn't help but smile a little at his words, feeling a small sense of comfort. You knew that Spencer would be a constant presence in your recovery, and the thought of that helped to ease your frustration just a bit.

You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at him. "You're right," you said, your voice almost a whisper. "I just need to be more patient. And I know you'll be there to take care of me, even if I get annoyed with you."

He chuckled at that, his chest rumbling softly with the sound. "Oh, I'm sure you will get annoyed," he agreed, a small smile appearing on his lips. "But that's okay. I've learned to deal with your grumpiness over the years."

He gently pinched your side in a teasing gesture, causing you to let out a small giggle. "And just so you know, I plan on spoiling you rotten while you're recovering."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of him spoiling you. Spencer had a tendency to dote on you at the best of times, and you knew that while you were recovering from your injury, his spoiling tendencies would likely be heightened even more.

You raised an eyebrow, a small grin on your lips. "Oh really? So you're going to wait on me hand and foot, bring me food and drink whenever I want, and generally treat me like a princess?"

He smirked at your question, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Oh, most definitely. You're going to be pampered like a princess," he replied, his tone slightly dramatic. "I'll bring you tea, pastries, chocolates, anything and everything you desire. And as a bonus, I'll give you foot massages, back rubs, and anything else you might ask for."

You couldn't help but laugh a little at his display of melodramatic affection. It was so typically Spencer - overly grand and dramatic, yet utterly charming.

You gave him a playful swat on the arm. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" you said, shaking your head in amusement. "But I'll admit, the idea of being pampered with sweets and massages isn't too bad."

As the banter between the two of you continued, your mind drifted back to the cupcakes you were baking. You glanced down at the messy batter, which was still in the mixing bowl.

"Anyway," you said, pulling out of Spencer's arms to grab the bowl. "I should finish these. Can you grab the muffin tray for me, please?"

Spencer, ever the ever-helpful boyfriend, immediately did as you asked. He moved to a nearby cabinet and retrieved the muffin tray, bringing it over to the counter and setting it down next to the mixing bowl.

He watched as you began to scoop some of the batter into the tray, a small smile on his face. He loved watching you cook and bake. It was always a soothing and comforting sight for him, especially after a long day.

As you continued to fill each of the muffin cups, you could feel Spencer's gaze on you. It was subtle, but still present, his eyes on you. You knew he was observing your every move, admiring you quietly.

Despite your earlier frustration, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You couldn't help but feel comforted by his presence, by his silent support.

While you continued to work on the cupcakes, Spencer leaned against the countertop, watching you silently. He found himself admiring the way your fingers moved, the way your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you filled each of the cups with batter.

He knew that you were still frustrated about being home, about being away from the BAU, but he could also see that this little moment, this simple act of baking in the kitchen together, was a small comfort. It was a moment of normalcy among the chaos.

Soon enough, all the cups within the tray were filled with the cupcake batter. You placed the tray into the oven, setting the timer before turning back to Spencer.

He was still standing against the countertop, watching you intently. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was studying you, analyzing your every move.

You rolled your eyes in response. "Stop analyzing me, Spence," you teased, a small smirk on your lips. "I can almost hear the gears in your brain churning."

Spencer chuckled sheepishly at your comment, caught in the act. "Sorry, it's a habit," he admitted, a sheepish grin on his face. "I can't help it, it's what I do. Besides, you know I love studying you."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Yes, I know you do," you replied, walking closer to him. You stopped when you were in front of him, placing your hands on his chest. "But maybe try toning down the analytical observations for a few minutes, okay? Just treat me like a normal person, not a case to be studied."

He reached up and placed his hands over yours, gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin.

"Alright, I'll try," he promised, his voice quieter now. "I'll try not to analyze you so much, just be... normal. Although, for the record, I think you're anything but normal."

You playfully swatted his chest, rolling your eyes again. "Gee, thanks," you said sarcastically, though a small smile tugged at your lips. "But seriously, just try and focus on the moment, on us. No analyzing, no deducing, no profiling, no solving puzzles in that genius brain of yours."

Spencer chuckled again, his eyes meeting yours. "Okay, okay, I get it," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "No more analyzing, no more profiling. I'll try to focus on just us, I promise."

He wrapped his arms loosely around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "And maybe, just maybe, we can talk about something other than work or injuries or any other potentially depressing topics."

You smiled, relieved that he was willing to take a break from his usual intellectual pursuits. You leaned in towards him, resting your head against his chest.

"That sounds nice," you said, closing your eyes for a moment. "How about we just... talk about anything? Whatever comes to mind, just nothing too serious or work-related."

Spencer hummed in agreement, his fingers beginning to run idly through your hair. "Alright, anything but serious topics," he repeated. "So... let's see..."

He thought for a moment, trying to come up with a light-hearted conversation starter. Suddenly, his expression brightened, an idea popping into his head.

"Hey, did you know that honey never spoils?"

Your eyebrows raised at his random fun fact. You tilted your head back to look up at him, a small smile on your face. "Honey never spoils, huh? That's something I didn't know."

You chuckled softly, shifting to rest your chin on his chest. "What other random trivia do you have hiding in that brain of yours, Spence?"

Spencer chuckled at your response, his fingers still playing with your hair. "Oh, I have a ton of random trivia stored up here," he replied, tapping his forehead lightly.

He thought for a moment, trying to remember another fun fact. "Oh, I got one. Did you know that there are more possible combinations in a game of chess than there are atoms in the observable universe?"

Your eyes widened at his next random fact. "More possible combinations in a game of chess than there are atoms in the observable universe?" you repeated, impressed.

You looked up at him, a bewildered expression on your face. "How do you even know that? And more importantly, why do you know that?"

Spencer shrugged, a grin on his face. "I read a lot of random things," he answered simply. "And my mind seems to just retain all this information for some reason. I guess it's just how my brain works."

He paused for a moment, his tone turning playful. "And as for why I know that particular fact... well, maybe it just stuck in my head because I like chess."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, a small smile on your lips. "Of course you like chess," you replied, pretending to be exasperated. "You're a total nerd."

Spencer feigned offense at your comment, a mock-offended expression on his face. "Hey, I'll have you know that liking chess does not make me a nerd," he protested. "It's a strategic game of skill and intellect. It's a perfectly respectable hobby.

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. "Oh, right. My mistake," you teased. "Liking chess definitely doesn't make you a nerd. And neither does knowing random trivia about the size of the universe or the properties of ancient artifacts. Nope, definitely not nerd-like behavior at all."

Spencer chuckled at your reply, conceding defeat. "Fine, fine, you have a point," he admitted, his tone slightly sheepish. "I guess I do have a few nerdy tendencies."

He continued to stroke your hair, a small smile on his face. "But in my defense, I think my knowledge and interests make me charming in my own unique way."

You couldn't help but smile at his confident statement. "Oh, charming, huh?" you replied, teasing him. "Is that what we're calling it now? Your endless stream of trivia and random facts is considered charming?"

Spencer feigned offense once again, his hand still playing with your hair. "Hey, I'm not just some nerd who spouts random facts all the time," he protested. "I have charm, intelligence, wit, and a sarcastic sense of humor. Those are all attractive qualities, you know."

You laughed softly, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. "Alright, alright, I admit it," you said, still gazing up at him. "You're charming, intelligent, witty, and you have a sarcastic sense of humor. Not to mention your adorable boyish good looks."

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly at your compliment, his smile broadening. "Adorable boyish good looks, huh?" he repeated, pretending to be unaffected by your words. "I'll have you know that I'm not just some cute, baby-faced boy. I'm a mature and respectable man."

You laughed again, not fooled by his attempt to play it cool. "Oh, really? A mature and respectable man, huh? Sounds very official, Dr. Reid."

You reached up to playfully pat his chest. "It's okay to admit that you're an adorable genius sometimes, you know. It won't make you any less mature or respectable."

Spencer rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. "Fine, fine, I'll admit it," he said, feigning resignation. "I am an adorable genius. But don't let it go to my head, okay?"

You chuckled, knowing that it was already too late for that. "Don't worry, I won't let it go to your head," you teased, leaning up to brush a kiss against his jaw. "Well, not too much, at least."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the brief press of your lips, a small shiver running down his spine. He tilted his head down to meet your gaze, his eyes locking with yours. "You're enjoying this a little too much, y'know," he murmured, a mock pout on his face.

You chuckled, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "Oh, am I?" you asked, feigning innocence. "Am I enjoying making fun of my brilliant but adorable boyfriend a bit too much?"

Spencer huffed playfully, although a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, you are," he replied. "You're really milking this, aren't you? I'm not sure if I should be amused or annoyed."

You chuckled again, enjoying the banter between the two of you. "Hmm, let me think," you said, pretending to consider it. "Maybe a bit of both?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his expression bordering on mock irritation. "Both, huh? I suppose that's fair," he conceded, his tone still playful. "I can be both amused and annoyed at my girlfriend's relentless teasing. Seems like a typical day in our relationship, really."

You laughed, your hand still pressed against his chest. "It's all part of the fun," you replied, a warm smile on your face. "You know you secretly love it when I tease you."

As your conversation continued, a sudden sound interrupted you both. The oven timer went off, signaling that the cupcakes were done. Well, that was fast.

Spencer's eyes flicked towards the oven, then back to yours. "Looks like the cupcakes are done," he noted, his fingers still idly playing with your hair.

You smiled up at him, realizing that your little distraction had made the baking time fly by. "Looks like it," you agreed, gently untangling yourself from his embrace to attend to the cupcakes.

"Stay there," you instructed, giving him a warning look. "You're not distracting me again with your adorableness, I need to take these out before they burn."

Spencer held up his hands in mock surrender, a playful pout on his lips. "Alright, alright, I won't distract you," he promised, though his eyes followed you as you moved over to the oven.

He watched as you opened the oven and carefully pulled out the tray of freshly baked cupcakes. His gaze lingered on you as you set them down to cool on the countertop.

You laughed, shaking your head at his dramatic response. "That's right," you replied. "Just sit there and keep your charm to yourself, Dr. Reid. Let me finish these without any further distractions."

Spencer pouted slightly, crossing his arms in mock disappointment. "Alright, alright," he said, leaning back against the counter. "I'll be the epitome of patience and restraint, I promise. No more flirting, no more distractions. I'll just... stare at you from over here and admire your baking skills."

You chuckled, appreciating his mock-disappointment. "You flatter me, Spence," you replied, setting the tray of cupcakes on the counter to cool. "But I need less staring and more silence if you don't mind. This frosting isn't going to do itself."

Spencer held up his hands in surrender, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Okay, okay, no more staring. I'll be the model of obedience and silence, I promise. I'll just... be over here, quietly admiring your frosting skills." He paused, his gaze drifting towards the cooling cupcakes. "And trying not to drool over the fact that I can't eat them just yet."

You laughed again, shaking your head at his eagerness. "Patience, Dr. Reid," you said, moving to collect the necessary supplies for the frosting. "You have to wait until they're cooled off properly before you can devour them like a hungry puppy."

As you busied yourself with the frosting, you stole glances at Spencer, amused by his barely contained excitement.

Spencer did his best to contain his excitement, his eyes following your every move as you set up the frosting supplies. His fingers drummed idly against the countertop, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he tried to keep from drooling over the cupcakes.

"How long until they're cooled off, again?" he asked, his voice slightly strained. "Just... curious."

ou shot him an amused smile, continuing to focus on the task at hand. "A few more minutes," you replied, your tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully swirled the chocolate frosting onto one of the cupcakes. "And no touching, no trying to sneak a taste."

Spencer groaned, the sound more of a half-whine than anything else. "But they look so good," he protested, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the countertop to restrain himself. "Just a small taste? Please?"

You shook your head, your smile broadening. "No, no, no," you said firmly, playfully wagging your finger at him. "You have to wait, just like the rest of us mortals. No special treatment for hungry geniuses."

Spencer let out an exaggerated sigh, his shoulders slumping in mock dejection. "But... but I'm hungry," he whined, a pout forming on his face. "And I'm a genius. Surely that counts for something."

You chuckled at his pitiful display, your resolve starting to waver. "You're adorable when you pout," you admitted, placing the pastry bag down and turning to face him. "But you still have to wait, I'm afraid. No special privileges for genius boyfriends."

Spencer leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, and continued to pout like a child. "It's not fair," he protested, his puppy-dog eyes begging for a taste of the cupcakes. "Why can't I get a little taste, just a tiny one? I'll be good, I promise."

You laughed, your resolve weakening further. "You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?" you teased, unable to resist his pathetic puppy-dog expression. "You're not going to give up until you get a taste, are you?"

Spencer shook his head vigorously, his pout only deepening. "No, I'm not," he replied, clasping his hands together, as if in prayer. "Please, please, please, can I have just one taste? Just a tiny bite, that's all I ask."

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a stern expression, but failing miserably. "You're impossible," you said, shaking your head in mock annoyance. "But I can never seem to say no to your puppy-dog eyes."

Spencer's face immediately brightened, his pout melting into a hopeful smile. "Does that mean you'll let me have a taste?" he asked, his voice brimming with anticipation.

You sighed, knowing that you were completely whipped by his adorable pleading. "Alright, fine," you relented, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "You can have a taste. But just a little one, okay? Don't go eating half the batch before the rest of us get some."

Spencer's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. He practically bounded over to the counter, his eyes fixed on the cupcakes as if he'd never seen anything more delicious. "I promise, I'll only have a small taste," he declared, although, from the eager way he was eyeing the cupcakes, you had your doubts.

You chuckled, watching him with amusement as he hovered impatiently by the tray of now-cooled cupcakes. "Easy there, tiger," you said, playfully swatting his hand back. "I meant it when I said just a small taste. Don't get greedy."

Spencer sheepishly withdrew his hand, chagrined. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, his eyes still glued to the cupcakes. "I won't get greedy, I promise. Just a little taste, that's all I'm asking for."

You nodded, accepting his apology, and handed him a cupcake with a healthy dose of frosting. "Alright, here you go. One small taste, as promised."

Spencer carefully accepted the cupcake, cradling it in his hands like it was a precious artifact. He brought it up to his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut in anticipation as he took a small bite. A satisfied moan escaped his lips as the frosting hit his tongue. "Oh, god, that's good," he murmured, his eyes opening again as he savored the flavor. "So good."

You chuckled, watching as his expression went from eager to blissfully content in an instant. "You look like you're in ecstasy," you teased gently, leaning against the counter. "I take it you approve?"

Spencer nodded fervently, swallowing the bite he'd taken. "Approve is an understatement," he replied. "This is... this is a religious experience. It's like a fluffy, sugary cloud of joy exploding in my mouth."

You laughed again at his dramatic response, touched by the simple joy a single bite of your cupcakes had brought him. "Well, I'm glad it's living up to your high standards, Dr. Reid," you quipped, leaning in closer to steal a tiny bit of frosting from his cupcake.

Spencer barely seemed to notice the loss of frosting on his cupcake, still caught up in his food-induced euphoria. "It far exceeds my high standards," he mumbled, taking another bite and letting out another moan of pleasure. "I might have to marry you just for these cupcakes."

You chuckled, his declaration both charming and comical. "Oh, really? Is that the only reason you'd consider marrying me?" you teased, enjoying the way his guard was completely down in his blissful cupcake-induced state.

Spencer looked up from his cupcake, meeting your gaze with a goofy smile. "Well, no," he admitted, a bit of frosting smeared on his lip. "But these cupcakes definitely make the list of reasons why I should marry you."

You reached out, wiping the bit of frosting from his lip with your thumb. "Good to know your stomach is a major consideration in your decision-making process," you teased, a soft smile on your face.

Spencer chuckled, licking a stray bit of frosting off his lip. "Hey, it's an important factor in life decisions, you can't fault me for that," he replied, his eyes sparkling. "Good food is a non-negotiable in any relationship."

You rolled your eyes, amused by his priorities. "Alright, I'll give you that," you relented. "But what about love and commitment? Those still make your list of must-haves, right?"

Spencer's expression softened and he reached out to take your hand. "Of course they do," he said, lacing his fingers through yours. "Love, commitment, trust, all the important stuff. But good food is definitely a big bonus."

You smiled at the touch of his hand and pulled him closer to you. "I guess I can live with that," you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his waist. "Especially since I plan on keeping you well-fed."

You quickly snatch a huge bite into the cupcake in Spencer's hand, your mouth getting frosting smeared all over.

"Hey!" he protested, a mix of shock and amusement in his eyes. "That's cheating!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his flabbergasted expression, your mouth still filled with cupcake goodness. "I couldn't resist," you mumbled, through your mouthful of frosting and cupcake base. "Besides, sharing is caring!"

Spencer tried to pout, but the corners of his mouth were twitching with suppressed laughter. "That was just greedy," he protested, but his tone was playful. "You could've at least asked first!"

You swallowed the bite of cupcake, a cheeky grin on your face. "But where's the fun in asking when I could just steal a bite?" you teased, sticking your tongue out at him, still covered in frosting.

Spencer rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. "You're wicked, you know that?" he said, reaching out to smear some of the frosting onto your nose.

You let out a squeal as the cold frosting touched your nose, giggling at his antics. "Hey, no fair!" you protested, trying to dodge his frosting-covered thumb. "You know I'm ticklish there!"

Spencer chuckled, relishing in the joyful moment. "Oh, I know," he replied, a mischievous grin on his face. "It's just so adorable when you squeak." He attempted to dot your nose with more frosting, laughing at your attempts to evade him.

You continued to laugh involuntarily as he kept trying to smear frosting on your nose, the feeling both ticklish and cold. "Spence, stop, stop!" you gasped, trying to swat his hand away. "You're going to make a mess!"

Spencer ignored your plea, laughing at your attempts to keep him from decorating your nose with frosting. "I thought you were the one who said sharing is caring," he teased, continuing to dab frosting onto your nose. "Now you're trying to deny me the opportunity to share with you!"

You finally managed to grab his wrist, stopping his frosting assault on your nose. Instead taking his thumb covered with frosting into your mouth.

Spencer's eyes widened as a shiver ran down his spine, and a flush of heat crept up his neck. He let out a soft gasp at the unexpected feeling.

Your tongue swirled around his thumb, licking off the frosting. You looked up at him through your lashes, a playful gleam in your eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you, his face growing redder by the second.

He slowly pulled his thumb from your mouth, reluctantly breaking the contact. His pulse was racing, his throat dry. He swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his racing heart. "That... that was a bit of a dirty move," he managed to splutter out, sounding strained.

You smirked at his flustered state, enjoying the effect you had on him. "I just didn't want you to waste any more frosting," you replied, feigning innocence. "You were making quite a mess, after all."

Spencer's brain was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts, his mind hazy with the sensation of your tongue on his skin. He shook his head, trying to regain his composure. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

You bit back a laugh, the sight of him so flustered was highly amusing. "Maybe a little," you admitted, shrugging. "It's not every day I get to see the great Dr. Reid rendered speechless, after all."

Spencer huffed out a laugh but couldn't argue. "Okay, you got me there," he admitted his cheeks still a little flushed from your earlier actions. "But I feel I should warn you, I don't shy away from retaliating."

You grab a napkin, wipe at your mouth and nose, getting all the frosting off, before throwing it into the trash bin.

A thrill of excitement shot through you at his warning, your pulse quickening. "Oh, really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, does this retaliation involve?"

Spencer could definitely be dominating if need be. But he was a soft dom. He had tried being more rough and demanding with you during sex, but he didn't like it. Didn't like degrading you or being awful to you despite it only being for the act.

You watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a mischievous smile. "Let's just say," he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave. "I could think of a few ways to get payback that don't involve pastries."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sudden low timber of his voice and the look in his eyes. A mixture of anticipation and excitement fluttered in your stomach. "Is that a threat or a promise, Reid?" you asked, your voice slightly breathless.

Spencer stepped closer to you, the gap between you diminishing rapidly. "Both," he replied, his tone dropping even lower. "A threat of what I'll do to you, and a promise of enjoying every second of it."

You shivered again, your body responding to his proximity, the heat in his gaze. "Careful, Spence," you warned, your voice softer than you'd intended. "I might just call your bluff."

"That's all the invitation I need," he murmured, his body now flush against yours. He reached up, gently wrapping a hand around your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His brown eyes were nearly black with desire. "You have no idea the things I've been wanting to do to you, sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, your breathing growing ragged. "And here I'd thought you were a perfect gentleman," you managed to tease, your voice betraying your own desire. "Little did I know you have a deviant side too."

"Oh, you have no idea," he murmured again, his eyes roaming over your face. His finger ghosted over your neck, the skin there heating under his touch. "I'm not a saint, sweetheart. Not by a long shot." His lips twitched into a small, almost predatory smile. "And when it comes to you, I'm practically a sinner."

Your knees almost buckled at his words, your body reacting strongly to the mixture of his proximity and his voice. "Well, if that's the case," you said, your voice trembling, "then I suppose I'm damned too."

A low growl escaped Spencer's throat, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. "Damned? No, love," he murmured, before swooping down to claim your lips in a bruising kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, his kiss rough with pent-up desire.

Your gasp was swallowed by the fervor of his kiss, your arms immediately going around his neck to pull him closer. His tongue licked its way into your mouth, claiming every inch with an urgency that belied his earlier restraint. His hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh as if he was afraid you would slip through his grasp if he didn't anchor you to him.

The kiss between you was hungry, a clash of lips and teeth and tongue, spurred on by the weeks of missed intimacy. Spencer pulled you closer, his fingers digging into your hips as if he couldn't bear to let go. When he finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting heavily, your cheeks flushed and your breaths mingling. "You drive me insane," he muttered against your lips, his voice gravelly. "You have no idea what you do to me, baby."

"The feeling is mutual," you panted, your breath stuttering in your chest from the kiss. You could feel his desire rolling off him in waves, his body pressed tightly against yours, the heat from his skin burning through the thin barrier of your clothing. You ran your fingers through the messy curls at the back of his head, tugging lightly. "I don't think I can wait any longer, Spence," you admitted, your voice low and hoarse. "I need you. Now."

Spencer shuddered at your words, a low moan escaping from his lips. The need in your voice, the desperate wanting, was like an aphrodisiac. He captured your mouth again in another hungry kiss, this one more urgent than the last. "I don't want to wait either," he muttered against your lips, his hands roaming over your body, pulling at your clothes, seeking skin. "I've missed you so much."

Your own hands began to wander, pulling at buttons and zippers, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "God, I've missed you too," you gasped, your fingers finally finding their way under his shirt, running over the bare skin of his stomach and chest. "Please, Spence. I need you. Need you now."

With a gentleness, Spencer lifted you and settled you down on the cool countertop of the kitchen. He kept most of his weight off of you, placing his hands on either side of you so he could hover over you. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm fine," you assured him, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I just need to feel you, Spence. All of you." You pulled his head down to yours, kissing him fiercely, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I need you," you repeated against his lips, your fingers running over the bare skin of his back, feeling the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Spencer groaned at the feel of your legs around him, the sound deep and primal. He slid his tongue into your mouth, the kiss turning heated and desperate. His body trembled with the need to be closer to you, to feel all of you against him. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming over your body. "I'm not going anywhere."

Your heart was pounding, your body arching into his touch as he caressed you. "I need you naked, Spence. I need to feel you against me. All of you," you panted, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Now. Please."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He quickly removed his shirt, then leaned down to pull yours off as well. Your skin was warm and smooth beneath his fingers, his own body thrumming with need. He pressed himself against you, his bare chest against your chest, the feeling of skin against skin sending a shiver through him. "God, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice guttural. "You feel so good."

"So do you," you gasped, your hands running over the bare planes of his chest and stomach. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the weight of his body pressing you into the countertop, and it only served to fuel the desire burning within you. "Touch me, Spence," you begged, your voice ragged. "Please, I need your hands on me. Everywhere."

"I'm not going to make you wait any longer," he murmured, his hands beginning to wander over your skin. He touched every inch of you that he could reach, fingers skimming over your shoulders, your collarbone, your stomach. "You're beautiful," he repeated, his voice low. "So damn beautiful." His hands continued to roam, finding every sensitive spot on your body, setting your nerve endings on fire.

He placed his palm against your stomach, pushing you carefully to lay down flat against the countertop. Spencer's hands were shaking slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they roamed over your body. He gripped the waistband of your shorts, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. He began to pull them down, his movements gentle but insistent, your underwear following closely behind. "Lift your hips," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You did as he said, lifting your hips off the countertop, his hands pulling your shorts and underwear down your legs and discarding them on the floor. You were completely bare before him now, the cool air causing gooseflesh to rise on your skin. But Spencer's heated gaze made you feel anything but cold, his eyes trailing over every inch of you with a look of reverence.

He ran a hand up your inner thigh, the movement gentle yet possessive. "You're so beautiful, pretty girl," he said, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, his calloused skin sending shivers through you. "I've missed seeing you like this." He leaned down, his lips trailing over your stomach, his mouth moving lower...

The feel of his lips against your skin sent a rush of heat through you, your body already responding to his touch. You reached down, running your fingers through his curls, holding him close. "Spence," you gasped, your voice ragged with need. "Please. I need you."

Spencer's eyes met yours, his gaze burning. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers digging into your hips. "Just a minute. Let me taste you first."

Your breath hitched at his words, your body already arching towards him in anticipation. You watched as he lowered his head, his mouth moving to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The feeling of his lips and tongue against your skin was intoxicating, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He took his time, his kisses slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing patterns against your skin that had you writhing beneath him. He worshipped your body with his mouth, his lips moving ever closer to where you needed him most.

You were panting now, your hands clenching in his hair, your body arching off the countertop, seeking more of his touch. "Spence, please," you pleaded, your voice strained. "I can't take any more. I need you, now."

"Just a little more, sweetheart," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against you. "I want you to come like this. I want to taste you when you're falling apart for me."

Those words, that low, gravelly tone in his voice, almost sent you over the edge alone. But then he moved his mouth to where you needed it most, and a cry tore from your lips as he began to taste you, his tongue and lips moving against your folds.

He tugged you closer to the edge, making you squeak as he chuckled between your legs, draping them over his shoulders.

It was hard to form coherent thoughts, your mind filled with nothing but sensations — the feel of his mouth against you, the heat of his breath, the possessive grip of his hands on your hips. You arched off the countertop, your body taut as a bowstring, each flick of his tongue against your clit bringing you closer to the edge.

"God, sweetheart, you taste so good," he murmured against you, his voice rough. "So sweet. I could do this for hours and it would never be enough." He increased the pressure, his tongue moving with a purpose, driving you higher and higher.

It was too much, the pleasure building to a peak that you knew you couldn't hold back from. "Spence, I'm...I'm coming," you panted, your body trembling. "I'm coming, oh god."

''Come for me, come on my tongue, pretty girl,'' Spencer muttered against your clit.

He didn't let up, his mouth and tongue continuing their relentless assault until you were crying out his name, your orgasm ripping through you, your body arching up off the countertop. He held you there, his mouth against you, his hands steadying your hips until you were spent, your body boneless against the countertop.

You lay panting, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer moved back up your body, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "You're so beautiful when you come," he murmured, his voice thick with need. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss.

After a few moments, Spencer pulled back, his breathing still labored. He looked down at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your body still feeling boneless and sated. "Yeah, I'm okay," you murmured. "That was...incredible." You reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing over his stubbled jaw.

Spencer leaned into your touch, his eyes closing at the feel of your fingers against his skin. "Good," he replied, his voice soft. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He glanced down at the countertop, realizing just now where he had taken you. "I wasn't too...enthusiastic, was I?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "No, you were perfect," you assured him. "But, you did just eat me out, right next to the cupcakes.''

Spencer's eyes widened as he looked down at the countertop again, realizing the exact same thing. "Oh. Right," he said, a sheepish expression crossing his face. "Well, I guess we did." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I got a little...carried away, I suppose."

You laughed again, amused by his reaction. "It's okay," you reassured him. "I don't think it's the first time we've...defiled the kitchen countertop.''

Spencer smiled at that, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "No, you're right," he agreed. "We have been known to...christen multiple surfaces throughout the house."

"I don't think there's anywhere in this house that hasn't been defiled by us yet," you teased, a grin spreading across your face.

"Well, we have been living together for a while now," he reasoned, his hand running idly over your bare hip. "It's a wonder we haven't broken any of the furniture yet."

You let out a small chuckle, ''The day will come.''

Spencer laughed at that, ''Oh, I'm waiting for that day.''

After a moment of comfortable silence, Spencer spoke up again. "We should probably clean up," he murmured, his hand still running over your hip. "You're a little..sticky."

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, a smile playing on your lips. "And we should probably do something about all the...evidence that we just did what we did right in front of the cupcakes."

Spencer chuckled, his eyes meeting yours. "Yes, that too," he agreed. "But first, I need to take care of you." He shifted his weight, gently lifting you off of the countertop and into his arms.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to carry you out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the bathroom. "Taking care of me, huh?" you teased, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

"Of course," he replied, his arms tightening around you. "I need to make sure you're comfortable and taken care of, especially after I essentially manhandled you on the kitchen countertop."

You laughed, enjoying the feeling of being held in his strong arms. "I think it's safe to say I didn't mind the manhandling," you assured him, kissing his neck.

He chuckled, his grip loosening as he set you down on the bathroom counter. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, his hands moving to your hips as he gazed down at you. "But still, I want to make sure you're okay. That I didn't get too...carried away."

You met his gaze, seeing the concern and tenderness in his eyes. "I'm okay," you reassured him, cupping his face in your hands. "And you didn't get too carried away. I enjoyed every moment of it, I promise. And I know you'd never hurt me."

A relieved smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he leaned into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Good," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I just want you to always feel safe and comfortable with me. I never want you to feel like I'm taking things too far or being too...forceful."

Spencer reached for a washcloth, turning on the sink and running it under warm water. He squeezed out the excess water, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know I can get...carried away sometimes," he admitted, his voice low. "Especially when I'm with you. But I never want you to feel overpowered or uncomfortable."

"I know," you assured him, reaching out to brush your fingertips against his cheek. "And I don't. You always make me feel safe and cared for, even in the most... intense moments."

He smiled, leaning into your touch. "Good," he murmured, taking the washcloth and gently wiping away your essence. His touch was tender and careful, his movements slow and methodical.

"You're always so gentle and caring," you observed, watching as he cleaned you with the cloth. "Even when you're being...dominant."

He chuckled, his eyes meeting yours. "I may be dominant, but that doesn't mean I don't care about your comfort and pleasure," he said, his tone low and steady. "I would never do anything to hurt or diminish you. I love you too much for that."

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you at his words. "I know you do," you murmured, reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair. "And I love you too. I feel safe with you, no matter what we're doing. You always take care of me."

He set the washcloth aside, his eyes full of tenderness as he looked at you. "I will always take care of you," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "You're the most important thing to me, and I will always do everything in my power to make sure you're happy and safe."

You melted at his words, a wave of affection and love washing over you. "You're such a sap," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But I love it."

He chuckled, a mock offended look crossing his face. "Hey, I'll have you know that I am a very rational, logical FBI agent," he protested, his tone light. "I cannot possibly be labeled a sap."

"Oh, of course," you agreed, laughter in your voice. "Because FBI agents are known for being rational and logical, and definitely not sappy at all when it comes to their partners."

He tried to maintain his mock offense, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, alright," he conceded, his eyes sparkling. "I may be a little sappy when it comes to you. But I blame you for making me this way."

''Mhm.. definitely my fault.''

Spencer's hands came up to cup your face, pulling you gently against him as he leaned down and captured your lips in a tender kiss. The kiss was slow and sweet, full of affection and tenderness. As the kiss deepened, his arms came around you, pulling you flush against his body.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lost yourself in the feel of his mouth against yours. As the kiss finally ended, he pulled back just far enough to look into your eyes. "I love you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Your heart fluttered at his words, your entire being filled with a sense of love and security. "I love you too," you breathed, your fingers tracing over his stubbled jaw. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You're everything to me," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You closed your eyes, relishing the feel of his arms around you and the sound of his voice. "You're everything to me too," you replied, your fingers running through his hair. "I can't imagine my life without you." He lifted his head, smiling down at you. "Good thing you don't have to," he said, his tone light.

"You're stuck with me forever, sweetheart."

''I don't mind.''

you’re welcome

Solace

Request: spencer reid x reader Where you just need some physical affection from your husband

A:N: I/m sorry for how short it is! I hope you enjoyed.

SPENCER REID REQUESTS OPEN

It had been a long day for you. Today, was filled with problem after problem. Your co workers had been bitchy today, as usual but it got especially under your skin today, then someone used all of the coffee in the entire office just after your boss decided to drop a stack of papers on your desk that needed your attention by the end of the day. To make matters worse, the bottom of your shoe fell off.

Yeah, you read that right. The sightly lifted bottom of your shoe caught onto a step, and somehow as you stepped forward, you managed to also peel the layer from the sole, leaving you in a gross pair of disguarded trainers from the lost and found.

Sufficet to say, your day was shit.

Going home was solace for you, a haven. This haven contained your husband, the love of your life, the smartest and most handsome man in the world (in your opinion anyway), and he was always attentive to your every need on days like this. When you two got engaged, you had made a promise to always be home for one another when you promised to be. Tonight, you were especially excited, becuase Spencer was returning from a case, and he'd promised to be home before you finished work.

Spencer being home before you always meant two things. One would be, When you opened the front door, you'd be greeted by the smell of fresh coffee, and the sound of his crackly old vinyl playing Brahms or The Doors. The next would be that Spencer would be by your side as soon as he could, and hugging you like he thought he'd never see you again.

Arriving home, you found your first prediction to be correct. The sound of 'Love me Two Times' playing softly alerted you to his presance, and scent of freshly brwed espresso comforted you as you slipped silently into your shared home. Quietly, you placed your bag down, stripping your coat and placing your keys into a bowl gently.

You could hear Spencer clattering around in the kitchen, no doubt attempting to make dinner. Deciding to surprise him, you slowly tiptoed through the long emerald hallway that led to the kitchen, slowly peeking around the corner, you saw Spencer facing away from you, looking into a cupboard.

With a sneaky smile, you continued to tiptoe to him till you were just a touch away when-

"Boo!" He spun around and grabbed your hips, causing you to scream in surprise. Screeching his name, he only laughs at your pout and pulls you into him by your hips.

"Sorry, love." He laughed out, leaning forward to kiss your forehead softly "But to be fair, you were going to try and scare me first."

You rolled your eyes and slid your arms around his slender neck, looking into his eyes with a smile.

"Well, I guess allis fair in love and war and that..." You reach to meet his lips with yours softly, the kiss is tender and full of the deep love you both feel for one another. Pulling away, you both have dopey love struck smiles gracing your features

"I think i prefer love..." He mumbles before catching your lips in his once again.

After a moment, Spencer attempts to pull away from you after a moment, but you pout once more, pulling him back.

"Nooo... dont go stay here and cuddle me" You whine, pouting like a child, elliciting another chuckle from Spencer.

"Really, you want to cuddle in the middle of the kitchen?" His hand was rubbing small circles on your lower back, tracing his fingers along the slender line of your spine. Humming, you nodded in agreement

"I don't care where as long as im right here." Gesturing to your place in his arms, Spencer gives you an exhasberated look, shaking his head at your use of love to blackmail him to holding you whilst stood staionary in the kitchen. Rolling his eyes dramatically, he gives you a small squeeze.

"We can always do this on the couch? Or the bed?" Your eyebrows quirk up at his comment

"Doctor Spencer Reid! Are you just trying to get me in bed with you?" You feign offense, causing him to laugh at your dramatics "Romance IS dead!"

Rolling his eyes once more, he pulls away from you and begins to lead you to your bedroom

"I don't think I can trick you into your OWN bed." He chuckles as he pulls you ontop of him, both of your bodies softly hitting the matress.

Propping yourself up and onto your elbows, you bring your attention to the mans face, staring at him adoringly, his gaze meeting yours with the same look. Leaning down, you give him a small kiss, before collapsing into his embrace.

"I love you..." You mumble into his chest, he gives you another tight squeeze and kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

haunting you

summary: after your friend layla cancels your plans for the night, your “situationship” luigi comes over and you both take things to the next level.

warnings: smut, virginity loss (luigi) breastfeeding (f receiving) fingering (f receiving) pronebone (lol) breeding, some brief fluff at the end

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

you aren't usually into reality shows, usually you'd be spending the precious time you have in your dorm either watching a movie, or doing computer science homework, which usually entails attempting to tackle a programming problem with python.

yet tonight, you find yourself doing what you constantly told yourself you wouldn't do. you're sprawled out on your bed, with your eyes on the first reality show that you'd seen come up on netflix. in your defense, you're only doing it to kill time. you're waiting for your best friend layla to call you, she was meant to be at your dorm 10 minutes ago so you and her could get ready to go to the bar together.

right as the crappy show you're watching began to get half interesting, your phone starts ringing. and when you look over at who's calling, sure enough, it's layla. but when you answer her call, her voice comes through the phone sounding panicky and frustrated.

"okay, PLEASE don't get mad at me...."

you raise an eyebrow. that's never a good start.

"layla? hey girl what's the matter? where are you?" you ask, concerned for your friend.

"i can't come out tonight," she rushes out. "i’m so so so sorry, it's just... you know darren? my ex? he showed up at my dorm and it turned into this whole thing, and well... i just can't tonight."

you exhale, snuggling further into the comfort of your bed. darren's always trouble. him and layla had broken up months ago and he was still hung up over her, when he saw her out on a date with her new boyfriend he decided it would be a good idea to carve the word "SLUT" into her car door.

"layla, it's alright. promise."

you hear her breathe out a sigh of relief on her end. "are you sure? i feel like such an asshole.

you smile. "i swear, it's fine. i wasn't really in the mood to go out tonight anyway."

she groans dramatically. "thank you... i owe you, like, ten drinks."

you laugh, shaking your head even though she can't even see you. "i’m gonna hold you to that."

and then she's gone, the line going dead with a soft beep. you let go of your phone and let it fall onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

looks like it's just you and god awful tv tonight. and honestly? you don't really mind.

until your phone chimes.

you've gotten a text.

probably from layla, she's probably texting to apologise yet again, something she has a habit of doing whenever anything like that happens between you two.

as you check your phone, your face heats up as you read that it's not from layla, it's from him.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

luigi: hey :)

your brows lift. he never texts first. this is a surprise.

you quickly type out your reply.

you: hi handsome :) what you up to?

something's clearly up. you're always the one to text first. not luigi.

your phone buzzes.

luigi: nothing much, you still going out with layla tn?

you smirk at the screen, stretching lazily as you write your response. he has no idea that she bailed.

you: no, she cancelled, i'm just in my dorm rn

not even a minute later, you hear another buzz.

luigi: you doing anything?

you pause and bite your lip while you stare at his message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. you know what he means, or at least what he wants it to mean. you could toy with him. make him wait. let him squirm a little. make him work for it. but something about the way he texted you first... something about the way he's asking instead of just assuming... makes your stomach flip.

you let him sit with it for a minute before finally replying.

you: why? you lonely? ;)

three dots appear immediately. and then...

luigi: just asking.

luigi: are you doing anything or no?

you hum, staring at the screen before finally deciding where you want this night to go.

you: come find out.

yet another buzz...

luigi: be there in 10.

your stomach twists as you turn off your phone. but it's not from nerves. it's from anticipation. you sit up, smoothing your shirt, running a hand through your hair. there was absolutely no point in pretending that this wasn't exactly what you wanted.

you've done this dance before, you've made out with him until your lips were sore, dry humped him until he'd made a mess in his pants, marked his neck with hickies, but every time, he pulled back before it could go any further. said he wanted to "take his time." you never pressed him for more, you'd just tease him about it, calling him cute for holding out on you.

it's funny, he's not even yours. officially that is. but it would be a lie to say that you didn't feel your stomach churn with jealously whenever you saw him talking to another girl. just yesterday when you were on your way to go grab lunch, you saw him laughing with one of your classmates from the computer science class you and him shared, and you felt sick. but all you did was smile, say hello, and continue on your way.

your little "arrangement" is a secret. sometimes you wonder what people would think if they knew that you had luigi mangione, the sweet and popular nerd, cum in his pants while he moaned and begged underneath you.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

you're in the middle of brushing your hair when there's a knock at your door, sharp and deliberate. you put your hairbrush down on the bed and let him wait a second longer than necessary, just to see if he'll knock again.

silence.

when you finally open the door, he's standing there, wearing his adidas hoodie that you always saw him wearing on campus. you also notice that he has his hands in his pockets and that his curls are messy. almost as if he's been running his fingers through them the whole walk over. but it's his face that catches you off guard.

he looks nervous. you knew something was up from the moment he made the rare choice on his part to text you first.

he's not his usual shy but smug, waiting for you to make a move kind of nervous. this is different. his jaw is clenched, his weight shifts, and for the first time since you met him... luigi looks unsure.

"lu?" you raise your brows. "are you alright?"

he exhales sharply. "can i come in?"

you stop and think for a second. he's never asked to come in before. most of the time he just walks in, kicks off his shoes, and throws himself onto your bed like he owns the place. but tonight? he's not his usual self. not by a long shot.

"...yeah," you say slowly, stepping aside to make way for him.

he walks past you but doesn't go to the bed. he just stands there, fists tight in his pockets, shoulders squared like he's bracing himself for something major to occur.

you close the door, arms crossing and brows furrowing. "luigi." you study him, narrowing your eyes. "what's the matter with you? you're acting kinda strange."

he shifts again. he doesn't meet your gaze. he looks like a puppy that just got scolded. you'd be lying if you said that you didn't find that look cute on him.

you sit on your bed and gently pat the spot next to you. it's not until he joins you that you realise just how timid he seems, how red faced he is.

"lu?" you ask softly. you want to be gentle with him. for now anyway.

then, finally...

"i wanna do it."

you're confused. really confused.

"i'm sorry?"

he clenches his jaw again. "it's just... this... us... this whole... arrangement." he exhales sharply, like he's forcing himself to say it. "i know this past month and a half we've always just kissed and done other stuff, but we've never gone further. i've always pulled away and told you i wanna wait. but tonight... i wanna go all the way. i wanna... y'know... fuck you.”

his words hit you like a slap.

wait.

you stare at him, processing what has just come out of his mouth, trying to piece together what he's saying, what he's really saying. if he's just telling you this now... after all this time... then does that mean...

that's when it clicks. that's when you fully realise why hes been holding back the whole time you and him have been messing around.

"...wait." your voice is slower now, careful. testing. "so you're telling me...."

he bows his head. keeping his gaze away from you.

your lips part. "are you.... you're... you're a virgin. aren't you?" luigi tenses. his fists curl even tighter, like he's just waiting for you to laugh at him. for you to ridicule him. but you don't have it in you. you can't do that to him, you won't do that to him, not while he's next to you looking all afraid.

this whole time?

all those nights he let you grind against him until he was a moaning mess, all those times he pulled back right before things got too heated, you thought he was just teasing you, playing hard to get. but no. he was waiting.

everything all of a sudden makes sense to you now.

you crawl into his arms. "you're actually serious? like this isn't a joke?"

he wraps you up in a tight embrace and stays silent. doesn't meet your eyes. and the fact that he's so flustered? it does something to you. because this isn't the luigi you're used to.

this isn't the cocky little shit who you've been spending practically every free period messing around in your dorm with. this isn't the cocky little shit who leans too close, who smirks when he catches you staring, who always makes it seem like he's two steps ahead.

this is something else entirely.

he's looking at you now, almost as if he doesn't know what to do with himself. like he wants this so badly it hurts, but he's terrified of messing it up.

"luigi." you speak his name softly, like you're comforting a toddler who's on the brink of tears. "why didn't you tell me? you know i wouldn't have judged you..." you press a gentle kiss to his cheek to assert your point.

he swallows hard, and caresses the spot that you'd just kissed.

"because i knew you'd look at me like that."

you're confused again. "like what?"

he exhales sharply, resting his chin on your head. "because i thought you'd think that i’d need to be handled carefully... like you'd think i'd need special treatment or some shit."

you close your eyes and breathe him in. special treatment? that's not what you're thinking at all. poor baby. "lu i-"

he groans, rubbing your back. "i guess i was also... scared shitless." he adds quickly. "of... fucking it up. because i've really cherished the moments we've shared together. i kept putting it off because i kept thinking to myself that you'd ghost me afterwards."

your chest tightens and you look up at him. "you thought i'd ghost you after?"

his head snaps down to meet your gaze. "yeah... i kept telling myself that if we did have sex, you'd find me lame in bed and would never speak to me again. and i wouldn't want that because the way I feel about you... it's different. and i didn't wanna just rush into it you know what i mean?" he's speaking in a low, almost shy tone. "i wanted to make sure that when it finally happened, it was right... and tonight, it feels right."

you find yourself blushing at his admission and feel your heart beat faster. he's never been this forward and honest with you before.

"lu..." you tease, your lips curving into a playful smile. "so, you're saying that you've been stalling because you're a virgin and didn't wanna embarrass yourself?"

his goes red again. "yeah..."

you feel his arms tighten around you as you huff out a soft laugh. "you asshole! and here i was thinking you were playing hard to get!"

that gets a chuckle out of him, and the atmosphere shifts, the tension easing.

"yeah?" he smirks, cocky, but there's still something shy in the way he looks down at you.

"yeah," you say, hand dipping under his shirt to rub his abs, going just gently enough to make him shiver. "you had me losing my mind, thinking you were being a dickhead on purpose!"

he bites his lip as if he's trying not to laugh, but then his eyes darken, his expression shifts, and suddenly, whatever held him back before is gone.

"i don't want to keep you waiting anymore," he says, and it's not cocky, it's not teasing, it's authentic. he kisses your forehead, as if he's trying to ground himself. "but right now... i want it. i don't want to keep pretending like I'm not ready when i am."

you nuzzle into his chest and sigh contently. "so why now?"

"because i finally get it," he murmurs. "it's not about whether or not i'm good on the first go." he gives you another forehead kiss, making your cheeks turn scarlet once more. "it's about you. about us. and i don't want to wait anymore."

and with that, you kiss him.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

the kiss starts soft, familiar, his lips brushing yours with that quiet confidence you've come to know, but there's still a flicker of hesitation beneath it, a reminder that this is still new for him in so many ways. your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as you pull him closer.

even though it's not the first time you've kissed each other like this, this one seems to hold a little more depth, a bit more of him surrendering to the moment. his lips press against yours, firm yet warm, and as he leans into it, you feel the stiffness in his shoulders melt away, settling into the familiar rhythm you've spent the last few months carving out together.

his breathing grows irregular, and the shake in his fingers sparks a thrill through you, another reminder that he's still finding his way with you. lost in the kiss, your balance shifts, and suddenly you're tumbling backward, pulling him with you as you both collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and muffled laughter.

"you alright?" he mumbles, voice all gravelly and soft, a crooked smirk pulling at his lips like he's still half lost in the chaos of the fall. you nod, the warmth of his closeness seeping into you, and before you can answer, he leans down again, pressing a softer kiss to the corner of your mouth less urgent this time, but no less deliberate. it's like he's savoring it now, the rush giving way to a quiet intensity that makes your chest tighten.

you feel his trembling hands snag the edge of your blouse. he tugs it up, slow like he's scared to break something, until it slips off and falls to the floor. he freezes, hands dangling in the air, eyes falling to your now exposed tits.

his breath hitches hard, cheeks blooming red as he stares, totally wrecked, the first time hes ever seen a girl this way.

"holy... shit." he mumbles, voice cracking, barely a whisper, and his fingertips ghost over your skin, shaky but reverent.

his fingertips linger, barely brushing your skin, and the silence stretches out, thick with the sound of his uneven breathing. you tilt your head, catching the way his eyes are still glued to you, wide and unblinking, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he looks away. "lu? what's wrong?" you ask, voice soft.

he blinks, startled, like you've pulled him out of a trance, and his hands jerk back an inch before he catches himself. his cheeks flare even redder, if that's possible, and he swallows hard, throat bobbing. "n-nothing's wrong," he stammers, voice rough and low, cracking on the edges. "it's just... you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen in my whole entire life."

the words spill out, raw and unguarded, and your own cheeks heat up, a flush creeping up your neck. "you don't mean that…” you mumble, looking away for a second, your voice small as the compliment sinks in and leaves you flustered.

he freezes, eyes widening even more, if that's possible, and shakes his head quickly. "no, i-i do!" insists, tripping over the words in his rush to get them out. "i swear, i mean it. you're... unreal." his gaze flickers up to meet yours, holding it for a shaky moment before dropping back down to your tits, locking onto your tits with that same stunned, unblinking gaze.

his voice comes out soft, almost timid. "can i...um... can i suck on 'em?" he pauses, face burning red, and his eyes flick up to yours for a split second before darting back down. "i've... i've always wanted to suck a girl's boobs..." he admits, voice cracking with nerves, and he bites his lip, hands twitching as if he's bracing for rejection.

"please? if that's okay? i just... i wanna make you feel good." the question hangs there, shy and earnest, wrapped in that same reverent, trembling adoration.

you swallow, heart thudding a little faster, and your voice comes out softer than you mean it to. “yeah… okay.” you say. the words slipping out before you can overthink them. your blush deepens, spreading warm across your skin, and you glance away for a second, suddenly hyper aware of the way his gaze is still glued to you.

his eyes snap up to yours, like he can’t believe what he just heard. “o-okay…” he stammers, voice cracking, and a tiny, shaky smile tugs at the corner of his lips, equal parts disbelief and awe. his hands flex, unsure where to go, and he shifts closer, tentative but eager, like he’s afraid to break the spell.

he leans in, slow and worshipful, his breath hot against your bare chest. his lips brush your skin first, tentative, pressing soft, shaky kisses across the swell of your tits, his mouth trembling. his hands rise, hesitant at first, then bolder, cupping your breasts gently. his fingers squeeze, kneading the soft flesh with a mix of curiosity and awe, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as a low, ragged groan escapes him. “fucking gorgeous…” he mutters to himself, voice thick and breaking, completely lost in you.

then, emboldened, he parts his lips and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. the sudden, firm pull sends a jolt of pleasure through you, sharp and electric, as his tongue flicks over the sensitive bud, warm and slick against your skin.

his teeth graze ever so slightly as he pulls back with a soft, lewd pop before diving back in, sucking greedily. his other hand keeps squeezing, fingers digging in just enough to feel desperate, and his breath comes in hot, uneven bursts between each sloppy, reverent pull of his mouth.

after a moment, his confidence inches up, and he pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing your damp skin. his voice is low, almost drowned out by his nerves as he stumbles over his next thought. “could i… um… rub your clit too? while i’m… doing this?” his eyes dart up to yours, wide and pleading, his face somehow redder still.

“i-i read this book about, uh, women’s pleasure,” he blurts, words tripping over each other, “and it said foreplay’s important… like, to get women ready for sex. i just… i wanna make sure i’m doing it right.” his fingers twitch against your sides, restless and waiting, that same nervous, heartfelt devotion shining through every faltering word.

the air hums with a charged stillness, his ragged breaths weaving through the heat of the moment as his lips linger near your damp skin.

“lu.… do you even know where the clit is?” you ask as your blush burns hotter, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you watch him. his eyes widen for a split second, caught off guard, but then something shifts in his expression.

he swallows hard, adams apple bobbing, and his voice comes out low, still shaky but with a thread of assurance. “y-yeah, i do,” he says, nodding quickly as if to convince himself as much as you. “i mean… i read about it, y’know? in that book. it’s… uh… it’s up near the top, right? like, where it’s real sensitive?” his cheeks flare redder, but his gaze holds yours a little longer this time, earnest and unsteady, like he’s clinging to every word he’s memorized. “i-i think i can find it. i just… really wanna try. for you.”

his other hand trembles as it slides lower, fumbling over the edge of your panties. his fingers hook the soaked fabric, knuckles brushing the damp heat of your inner thigh, and he yanks them aside with a shaky jerk.

the cool air hits your slick, pulsing cunt, and his breath chokes off in a sharp gasp. he freezes, eyes dropping to the sight of your bare pussy glistening folds spread open, wet and swollen, your clit peeking out, begging for his touch. “oh fuck…” luigi rasps, voice breaking, a raw, reverent curse as he stares, completely fucking entranced.

his pupils dilate, swallowing the color of his eyes, and his mouth hangs slack, a thin thread of drool pooling at the corner as he takes in every slick, pink detail. “it’s… so fucking pretty.” he mutters, barely audible, like he’s witnessing something divine he’s too small to comprehend.

the words hit you like a punch, and your blush explodes even more than it did before, a fierce, burning heat flooding your cheeks, your neck, even your ears. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and impossibly flattered all at once, the raw awe in his voice making your skin prickle and your breathing irregular.

he’s just drinking you in, thumb hovering an inch from your throbbing clit, trembling like he’s scared to ruin the perfection in front of him. his other hand squeezes your tit harder, fingers sinking into the flesh as a lifeline, while his breath ghosts over your sensitive nipple. then, he snaps out of it, blinking fast, and his thumb presses down, grazing your clit in a clumsy, shaky swipe.

the contact sends a white hot spark up your spine, your hips twitching involuntarily, and he gasps again, eyes darting up to yours. “a-are you alright? am i doing a good job?” he asks, voice thick with panic and adoration, every syllable soaked in that nervous, aching need to please you, even as he’s still half lost in the dripping, mesmerizing sight of your cunt.

you nod fast, heart pounding, and force the words out between gasps. “yeah, you’re… you’re doing so good lu…” you pant, voice fraying as his thumb rubs harder, smearing your slick over your throbbing clit. the sensation is overwhelming, a white hot rush that makes your thighs quake and your pussy clench, a fresh gush of arousal coating his fingers. your head lolls back, a guttural whimper spilling out as your body arches into him, chasing every stroke.

his breath snags at your praise, a shaky huff of relief, and his eyes spark with a mix of awe and hunger. “fuck… really?” he mutters, a trembling grin flashing across his lips.

he dives back to your chest, mouth latching onto your tit with a wet, hungry pull, sucking your nipple deep into his mouth. his tongue lashes over the swollen bud, teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver down your spine, while spit trails from his lips, leaving your skin slick and gleaming. his left hand kneads your breast that his mouth isn’t worshipping, fingers sinking into the soft flesh with rough, desperate squeezes, as he uses his free hand to keep rubbing your clit, each motion dragging you closer to the edge.

“wanna make you feel… so fucking good,” he groans against your tit, voice muffled and raw, the words vibrating through you as your body hums, every nerve alight with the filthy, fervent pleasure he’s wrenching from you.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

minutes go by, and luigi now has three fingers spearing into your drenched cunt, thick and unforgiving, stretching your tight, quivering walls as he rams them in knuckle deep. the pace is brutal, a wet, obscene slosh echoing with every thrust as your slick floods his hand, running in hot sticky rivers down his fingers and splattering onto the sheets. your pussy grips his digits like a vice, spasming and gushing, the sopping mess of it coating his skin as he pleasures you, wild and unhinged.

how he’s nailing every perfect spot, driving you wild with precision despite being a virgin blows your mind. knowing the nerd that luigi is, you know for sure that he must’ve fucking DEVOURED a stack of books on female pleasure to get this damn good.

your moans claw out, ragged and animalistic, each one a shredded howl as pleasure twists into a vicious, coiling ache in your core. your hips buck hard against his hand, thighs trembling so fiercely they slap together, your body a shuddering, sweat drenched wreck.

but he’s moaning too, deep and primal, the sound tearing from his throat as his hips jerk helplessly, jeans bulging. his face twists, sweat pouring off his brow as he gasps like he’s choking, a fat, wet stain blooming across his crotch where his cock pulses and leaks, soaking through the fabric.

you catch him falling apart flushed, frantic, a trembling mess and rasp, “what’s wrong?” your voice a gravelly wreck, hands digging into his arms as your own edge sharpens.

luigi’s eyes snap open, and he groans, “you’re gonna make me fucking cum in my pants,” the words spilling out in a desperate, fractured whimper, “and you haven’t even touched me.”

his cock is throbbing so hard you can see it twitch through the drenched denim, pre cum oozing in thick, messy streaks.

“no, stop.” you snarl, voice raw and commanding, shoving him back, his fingers ripping free from your sloppy, pulsing cunt with a loud, wet suck. “fuck me instead.”

the words hit him like a slap, and he stalls, hands slick and shaking, jaw slack as he sucks in air. “y-yeah, fuck, alright,” he chokes, voice a ruined mess, clawing at his zipper with slippery, fumbling fingers, racing to unleash his swollen, dripping cock, the air thick with the hot, filthy promise of what’s about to go down.

you’re able to see it for the first time, and your eyes widen.

it’s massive, thick and veiny, flushed dark with need, the tip glistening with a fat bead of pre cum that drips obscenely. shock jolts through you, a fleeting thought of how the fuck is that fitting?

but there’s no time to process it. he’s already moving, hands rough and urgent as he grabs your hips, flipping you over with a grunt.

your stomach hits the surface, breath punching out of you as he manhandles you onto your belly, his slick fingers digging into your flesh, positioning you fast and messy, the raw hunger in his grip promising no pause, no mercy.

he keeps you pinned face down, his trembling hands clamping your hips with a bruising grip, fingernails carving crescent moons into your flesh. his swollen cock, thick and veiny, drags across your ass, leaving a hot, gooey smear of pre cum before he notches the fat, dripping head against your soaked entrance.

he hesitates, chest heaving with wet, shuddering breaths, and rasps, “you ready?” his voice a broken, guttural wreck.

“y-yes lu…” you stammer, voice half smothered against the mattress, your pussy throbbing, arousal pouring out as you tilt your hips toward him, needy but braced. he growls low in his throat, primal and ragged, and then he pushes in slowly, his cock splitting you apart, stretching your drenched cunt wide.

the burning, unrelenting stretch hits you hard, and you scream.

“fuck! i n-need a sec…” your voice trembles as your body quakes, struggling to adjust to the sheer, overwhelming size of him. your hole clenches hard, spasming around him.

while for luigi, it’s the first time he’s ever been inside a pussy, and the feeling slams into him like a tidal wave. “oh my g-god… fuck, fuck!” he whimpers, a high, shattered sound ripping from his chest as your hot, sopping heat wraps him tight, squeezing him in a slick, pulsing chokehold.

you twist your head, breathless, and croak, “you alright?” his hands shake violently on your hips, gripping harder, and he chokes out, “i didn’t know… didn’t know it’d feel this fucking good…” his voice splintering into a near sob, every nerve frying as your cunt hugs him, wet and molten, drowning him in the raw, mind bending bliss of finally being inside you.

he swallows hard, voice a shaky, guttural wreck, and mumbles “are you alright?” the words barely coherent, thick with desperation as he hovers on the edge, waiting for your answer.

you nod weakly. “yeah…” spilling from your lips, voice raw as your cunt throbs around him, caught between pain and a dark, blooming heat. that’s all he needs.

“fuck… i’m gonna start moving.” he groans, the sound splintering from his throat, and he starts to thrust. it’s slow at first, a torturous pull as he eases his thick, veiny shaft back, the swollen head dragging along your tender walls, stretching your dripping hole with a lewd, sucking tug that forces a ragged gasp from your chest.

then he slams back in, deep and merciless, his sheer bulk splitting you wider, profanities tearing from you as he fills you completely, balls slapping against your skin. the stretch bites, then melts into something jagged and electric, your pussy gripping him like a drenched, ravenous fist, slurping noisily.

“holy… shit, it’s too much” he whines, voice cracking into a high, frantic wail, hips jerking forward with rising need, each thrust a sloppy, vicious plunge that stuffs you to the brim. your juices gush out, glazing his cock in a shiny, wet sheen, splashing in hot, messy streaks down your thighs and over his groin as he drives into you, the loud, wet smack of his pounding echoing through the room.

you scream, voice raw and splintered, fingers clawing at the surface beneath you, nails gouging deep as your hips jerk back to meet his thrusts, craving the savage depth even through the sting. his hands grip tighter, nails leaving angry red marks in your skin.

“fuck… feels like heaven…” he moans he rams into you, lost in the tight, dripping grip of your cunt, his first, sucking him in deep, wringing him dry, every thrust setting his nerves ablaze. his rhythm quickens, slow, teasing drags morphing into wild, frantic snaps, his hips slamming into your ass with loud, wet smacks.

suddenly, his hand rears back and lands a sharp, stinging slap across your ass cheek, the crack ringing out as your skin jiggles and a hot, red flush blooms under his palm. you scream again, a sharp “oh shit!" bursting from your lips. your body jolts forward and your pussy clenches tighter around him in reflex, a wild mix of shock and pleasure ripping through you.

“christ... this pussy's insane…" he pants, voice a trembling, slurred wreck, his cock hammering deeper, stretching you to breaking as your cunt squishes and gushes around him.

minutes dissolve into a sweaty, moaning blur, and then he collapses onto your back with a guttural grunt, his weight crushing you flat as he shifts into pronebone. his chest molds to your spine, his hot, panting breaths blasting your neck as he keeps fucking you, faster and harder, his cock slamming deep with every savage thrust.

“can’t… stop…” he whimpers, voice breaking into a sob, arm wrapping around your neck like a steel band, trapping you beneath him as he pounds your cunt into submission, your ass rippling with each violent, wet collision, the overwhelming feel of him… so huge, so deep… shattering any last shred of composure you had.

his lips crash onto your neck, wet, frantic and ravenous. he kisses you there, sloppy and wild, his tongue lashing out to lap at the sweat beading on your flesh, teeth scraping as he groans deep into your skin, and you feel the sound going through your bones. his thrusts never slow, each one a brutal slam, his cock splitting you wide, the swollen head battering your cervix with a force that makes your vision blur.

you’re moaning like a pornstar and your cunt is clenching so tight it’s like you’re trying to milk him dry.

“shit! i’m so close!” he growls against your neck, each word punctuated by a messy kiss, his lips smearing spit across your skin as his hips falter, thrusts turning wilder, even more frantic than before. his cock throbbing violently inside you. “i’m gonna cum-” he grunts, his arm’s grip around your throat tightening, his dick pulsing hot and thick, teetering on the brink.

and you feel it. the hard, rhythmic twitching, the way he swells even bigger inside your wrecked cunt. “cum inside me! please lu…” you sob, voice a hoarse, pleading wail.

your nails claw at the mattress, legs shaking uncontrollably, a high pitched whine escaping as the overstimulation makes your whole body quake. his breath snags, a choked sound ripping from him as he pounds you with frantic, bone rattling thrusts, right on the edge of shattering.

and then you feel it. his hips jam tight against your ass, and his cock pulses hard, flooding your wrecked cunt with a thick, blistering rush of cum. the heat crashes into you, raw and overpowering, his seed pumping in heavy, forceful jets, stuffing you so full it presses against your walls, a surge that makes your pussy clamp down and milk every last drop from him.

he whimpers, his thrusts stuttering to a stop as the final drops empty into you, his body quaking against yours. before you can catch your breath, his shaky hands fumble to your hips, yanking your soaked panties back into place with a hurried, sloppy pull.

the fabric snaps against your skin, locking his cum inside, and almost instantly, you feel the hot, sticky load seeping out, leaking past your swollen, aching lips, soaking the crotch of your underwear in a thick, dripping mess that clings to your thighs. you whimper softly, overwhelmed, your cunt still spasming from the intensity, reeling from the fullness and the filthy, oozing aftermath.

panting heavily, you drag yourself forward on trembling limbs, crawling under the covers and sinking into the soft refuge of the blankets. the bed dips as he follows, slipping in beside you, his warm, sweaty body brushing against yours. you roll over to face him, your breath still uneven, and his arms immediately open, pulling you in tight.

he wraps himself around you, chest pressed to yours, one hand cradling the back of your head as he peppers your forehead with soft, lingering kisses, his lips trembling slightly. his other arm snakes around your waist, holding you like you're his lifeline, his legs tangling with yours in a clumsy, needy knot.

he’s all soft now, an obvious shift from the wild frenzy of before, his face nuzzling into your hair as he lets out a quiet, shaky whimper. “how are you?” he murmurs, voice small and fragile, laced with a tender worry as he pulls back just enough to search your eyes, his own wide and glistening, like a nervous pup checking for approval. he presses his forehead to yours, still clinging tight, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

you catch your breath, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you nod. “i feel great.” you say, voice soft but steady, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart.

“that was… intense. you’re wild, you know that?” your tone lightens, teasing, and he blushes hard, ducking his head with a sheepish grin.

“i-i didn’t know it’d be that good…” he stutters, voice barely above a whisper, his fingers tracing shy circles on your back. “i just… i wanted to make you feel good. was it… was i okay?” his eyes flick up, hopeful and uncertain, and you can’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up soft and warm.

“not bad for a virgin.” you tease, smirking as his blush deepens, spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. he whines, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide, but you feel the little laugh he lets out, muffled against your skin.

“stop…” he mumbles, half embarrassed, half playful, his arms tightening around you as he nuzzles closer. “i just… read a lot, i guess. wanted to get it right.” his voice softens, earnest now, and he peeks up at you, a shy smile breaking through.

"you're amazing, though. i still can't believe that just happened." he kisses your forehead again, slow and sweet, settling into you with a contented sigh, like a clingy, soft baby who's finally found his safe place.

he pulls back slightly, eyes shining, and whispers, “i love you.” voice steady yet raw.

your heart leaps, a wild surge of joy flooding you, and you grin, breathless. “i love you too.”

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

I SPENT TWO WEEKS WRITING THIS SO U ALL BETTER GOBBLE IT UP NICE AND GOOD.

Chapter IV: The Prophecy

“Hand on the throttle. Thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh– But it's gone again.”

series masterlist previous chapter

pairing: post-prison/ cm: evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.) series synopsis: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life. cw: age gap (Spencer is 42, reader is 24 in chapter 1), Use of y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, romance romancing, kisses, and touches but no smut (yet…maybe); Reader is feisty and flirty; Spencer is anxious and has an aggressive outburst; female reader she/her pronouns, and mentions of typical CM violence. wc: 2.5k of conversation and world-building

The drive back to the university was nearly silent, with only the hum of the engine and the rhythmic tap of the rain breaking the tension that still hung in the air from Spencer’s outburst. When they finally arrived home, an unmarked car with government plates was waiting for them.

With a sigh, Y/N moved to open her door, only stopping when Spencer reached out, taking her hand in his. “Wait—” His voice was soft and timid, melting a part of her soul. Her gaze shifted from the waiting officer to Spencer. He cleared his throat, his grip on her hand tightening. “I’m really sorry that I snapped at you. We were having a great night, and I hate that I might’ve made you feel unsafe in my company…”

Y/N’s brows knit together as she shook her head, turning to better face Spencer. Her free hand cupped his cheek as she leaned in, her nose brushing gently against his before their lips connected. “Hey…I could never feel unsafe with you, okay? I understand it’s the job, it’s tough, and it can get to you…but we’ll figure it out. We’re in this together…till death do us part or whatever.” She teased, desperately trying to lighten Spencer’s somber mood.

He chuckled, nodding his head gently against hers. “Yeah…okay.” He kissed her quickly before letting her hand fall away, getting out of the car, and rushing to grab her door for her.

The pair looked a sight—clothes still dampened from their frolicking in the rain, wild curls, and kiss-bruised lips. They looked more like a pair of high schoolers than professionals.

“Looks like you two had a good night,” the agent called, slamming his car door. He looked annoyed, or maybe that was just his face, Y/N thought, observing the new file box securely under one of his arms. “The press finally caught wind of this one; it’ll be all over the 11 o’clock news if you two are too busy…socializing.”

The agent smirked, his eyes raking over Y/N’s body, catching the way her dress clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

“I’m going to need you to apologize—” Spencer started, taking a protective step in front of Y/N. She had to admit, the role of husband looked good on him. Her hand gently gripped his bicep, trying desperately to ground him. “Spence—” Her warning tone begged him to stop.

“Come on, bro, be serious. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I mean, good for you, honestly, bagging a newer model?” The agent threw Spencer a wink.

“Newer model—?” Spencer’s brows shot up in disbelief as Y/N snapped, her brows knitting together. Her feet carried her towards the agent, and her fist connected hard with his jaw before she even had time to register what she was doing. She snatched the box and stormed into the house.

“And I look unstable—

Gathered with a coven round a sorceress table.”

“Em, sorry, I punched him. If you get a call saying that one of your agents punched Agent Asshat or whatever his name was, I take full responsibility. Go ahead and write me up.”

Y/N all but yelled into the phone sitting in the middle of the table, a very tired Emily Prentiss on the other end.

There was a muffled yawn from the other end. “Did he deserve it?”

Y/N sighed, “Well—”

“Yes,” Spencer cut her off, returning from the kitchen with a makeshift bag of ice for her hand. “We may have looked less than professional, but that doesn’t excuse his blatant misogyny, nor the way he was practically eye-fucking Y/N on our front lawn.” He huffed, sinking onto the sofa.

“Sounds like he deserved it…” Much to Y/N’s surprise, Emily didn’t sound upset. If anything, their unit chief sounded amused.

“Should’ve seen it, Emily. She would’ve made Morgan proud. I think she might’ve broken his nose,” Spencer chuckled, glancing over at his literal blushing bride with a cheeky grin.

Prentiss laughed. “I don’t condone violence…but good on you, kid. I’ll let you know if I receive that call, but if he’s the jack-off you’ve made him out to be, I doubt he’ll admit to his superiors that a woman broke his nose. Regardless, I won't be writing you up for this.” There was a brief pause, the sound of shuffling papers and drawers closing on Emily’s end. The time difference between Seattle and the District meant it was past midnight.

“You should go home, get some rest, Em. We’ll look over the newest crime scene photos and see if anything stands out. If it does, we’ll let you know. The agent made the comment that the press had the story…so we’ll keep an eye on that as well…”

Emily, ever the workhorse, sighed. “Fine…I’m going to head out of the office now, but as always, call me if you need me or if there are any urgent developments.”

“Have a good night, Em…” Spencer sighed, his head lulling back against the cushion as the line went dead. “How’s your hand?” he muttered quietly as he started unpacking the newest box of evidence onto their coffee table.

“It hurts…” she shrugged, flexing her fingers under the ice pack, “but I hope his face hurts more.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gazed at Y/N with pure admiration and pride. “Angel, I genuinely think you might’ve broken that idiot’s nose. I can almost—actually, no, statistically, I can guarantee his face will be hurting for a while, especially right now.”

“Pad around when I get home— I guess a lesser person would’ve lost hope.”

The night slipped by, the story was run, and the case stayed the same— unsolved. Nothing particularly groundbreaking was found at the crime scenes, and the MO and victimology were painfully consistent, which left little for Spencer or Y/N to analyze. It was driving Spencer crazy, how after nearly twenty years with the BAU, he found himself genuinely stumped.

In the coming days, everything suddenly became real. After their date, their kiss—it wasn’t just a cover story anymore. Spencer and Y/N no longer felt like characters in a tragic play. They were a couple, who kissed and held hands, who slept in the same bed and talked about their days.

Days turned to weeks, and before they knew it, August had slipped away like a bottle of wine. As the leaves began to change, the lines between reality and their cover began to blur. 

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was happy, and content in a life he had always imagined for himself—a wife, a home, a steady schedule. None of it was real, but if only for a moment, it was real to him. His classes ran smoothly, with students who weren’t just there because he had a pretty face—they cared, and it was groundbreaking. The university had even given him a TA to hopefully lighten his workload. She was sweet, not much older than Y/N, but working on a doctoral thesis in his field of expertise. All the pieces of this illusion had fallen perfectly into place.

"Still, I dream of her…"

Spencer woke with a start. He hadn’t had that particular nightmare in years, not since his brain had nearly bled out all those years ago, not since he saw Maeve that one last time. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, his hands blindly searching for Y/N in the bed beside him… and then there she was, groggily furrowing her brows.

She wasn’t lying next to a psychopath in a pool of blood, cold and lifeless at his feet. She was in his bed, in his arms even, tangled in the sheets.

Memories and flashes of that night with Maeve, with Diane—the way she’d touched him, the way Maeve had looked. The cases were different, yes, but something felt very familiar to him. Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of bed, padding into the living room where the coffee table had been overrun by evidence from the newest murder. The body count was up to eight now, four couples, and the press was having a field day with this; they’d named the unsub The Albatross.

“Cautions issued, he stood shooting the messenger. They tried to warn him about her.”

The words danced across his mind, echoing in his ears as Spencer sat on the sofa, his eyes searching the crime scene photos desperately. The MO had shifted with the latest couple; the once precisely slit throats were no more, instead replaced by a single shot through the heart. The couple themselves were the same—an older man and a younger woman. However, with this couple, there had been an incident—a fatal shooting years back involving a stalker. Spencer shuddered at that information, his stomach twisting as he read the original case report.

“Shooting the messenger…” he scoffed, tossing the note back into the pile of evidence. He sat back, his head lolling tiredly against the back of the sofa as his mind worked overtime, assessing the words on the page as well as the previous notes left behind, trying to find any connection, any story or reason to the cryptic poem.

“What’re you doing up…?” Y/N’s sleepy voice caught him off guard. He turned to glance behind him at the half-asleep woman leaning against the hallway wall. “Rolled over and you weren’t there…” Y/N mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep…” he shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he’d been sleeping just fine—except for the haunting nightmare. He opened his arms for the younger woman, beckoning her to come and sit beside him on the couch. He needed to hold her, to know that she was real, but he wasn’t quite ready to get back in their bed just yet.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Y/N shuffled over, flopping down beside Spencer on the couch, her blurry eyes scanning the photos from the crime scene. She’d seen them earlier before they had inevitably decided to call it a night, but now, something she hadn’t noticed before caught her eye.

Without hesitation, she leaned forward, snatching up the evidence bag that held the latest note, her brow furrowing as she examined the reddish-brown splotches near the edge of the page. 

“Is that blood?” she asked, glancing back at Spencer as she handed it to him.

He stared blankly at the mess for a moment before reaching out for an evidence bag that held yet another cryptic poem—though this one was different—if only because he was fairly certain the unsub’s blood had dripped onto it, considering that when the lab had run it, there was no match to any victim. 

"Poisoned blood from the wound of the pricked hand."

“Oh—” Y/N shook her head, looking over the victim's hands…not a drop of blood.

“If it’s not from the victim, it’s sloppy…why not start over, why leave a trace behind?” she said softly, fighting a yawn as Spencer nodded slowly. 

“It’s almost like she's giving us a clue—”

“She?” Spencer asked, raising a brow. Dr. Spencer Reid was the king of picking out a female unsub, usually long before anyone else on their team. What had she seen that he’d missed? “How do you know it’s a woman? What stands out to you?” Spencer asked, leaning forward on the couch, observing the mess of case photos.

“Well, up until this last set…the husbands' throats are slit, and these notes are placed in their left palms. It’s brutal, but there’s an art to it.” She hummed, sinking back into the plush cushions of the sofa. “The wives, on the other hand, are laid out peacefully in bed with an albatross feather in their hands. It shows remorse—after the fact, the unsub is giving the women the respect that’s deserved…it's a different kind of death for the women."

“Okay, and what do you think the notes signify?” Spencer encouraged, slipping into teacher mode as his own mind raced a million miles a minute, putting together all of the points she’d made against the profile he’d been building in his mind.

“Well, they’ve always been in the left hand…ancient beliefs said the left hand was feminine, while the right was masculine. Other ancient stories point to your left hand being bad luck…which clearly…” she motioned to the gruesome photos before them with a sigh. “In some literary works, the left side symbolizes decay…death.”

Spencer nodded along. He’d already reached his conclusion, put the puzzle together, and built his profile. Now he was left to guide her, wait, and see if the younger agent would find her way to the same conclusion.

“Why slit their throats?” he asked softly, his eyes trained on the younger woman’s features, carefully analyzing every micro-expression he could find.

“Obviously, our unsub believes the husbands took something significant from their wives. The way our unsub is slitting their throats leads me to believe that she thinks it’s their voices or possibly their autonomy…I mean, we’re dealing with older men… I mean, it’s the history of man, right? To use women? Take something so simple but vital,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s the albatross feather in the woman’s hand…such a heavy symbol, and you said before that the bird is associated with burden and guilt. It feels like the unsub is trying to release the wives from any guilt she believes they’re enduring…she’s just setting them free.”

Spencer nodded. “And this tells you what about our unsub?”

Y/N paused for a moment, thinking over the details before offering Spencer a small shrug and a heavy sigh, “Well, I would say that our unsub is a woman, and these men are surrogates…but she identifies with the wives and feels a need to avenge them.” She glanced up to meet Spencer’s eyes, desperate for the approval of the older agent, which he gave with a small nod, so she continued, “The careful way she arranges their bodies shows she has a sense of empathy… she sees herself in these women.”

“Exactly,” Spencer said with a warm smile. “Why do you think she targets older husbands?”

“She probably has a history with an older man—someone who dominated her or took away her voice. This is her way of reclaiming her power and avenging the other women she sees as victims.” Her voice trailed off, her eyes fluttering between Spencer’s eyes and his lips, as he leaned in to gently press a kiss to her forehead.

“Right…you are one hundred percent correct,” he sighed softly, his eyes raking over her delicate albeit exhausted frame with a frown. “And fortunately for us, this case will still be here when we wake up. Come on, let's get you back to bed…”

With a soft yawn, Y/N nodded, slowly rising to her feet, her hand outstretched for Spencer.

“Come on.”

"But I look to the sky and say

please…"

taglist : @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @guiltyyassin @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @cherrycemeterry @hiireadstuff @r-3dlips @sweetpeterparker @catertotshitposts @purple-flower9 @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome @torturedpoetspsychward @skewedcherries @jackchampiongf13 @bouquetolegoflowers @pleasantwitchgarden @conrad4life13 @jdjwjdjjd @lilyn1909 @liquormoneysex @lynlin379 @imgublergirl

I hope i got everyone! if you’d like to be added to the taglist don’t hesitate to lemme know and as always i’d love to know the thoughts and feelings! So sorry this took so damn long

xo

Need You Tonight ao3

NSFW: oral sex male receiving, mating press, riding, rough sex, use of slut and whore (respectfully😣), soft dom and brat dynamic

just keep this sexy suit pic in mind.. ^_^ you’re acting like a brat and luigi tames you :D

dedicated to @diors002 hope u love xx also @fligniuz and @mangionebabymama because i admire you both

You've been eyeing him all night, wine glass in hand, pressed against his side like even a breath of space would be too much. The subtle heat from his body radiates through his tailored suit, making it almost impossible to focus on anything else. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you every time you glance up, and he seems completely at ease, unaware of the way he makes your heart race, the way his mere presence stirs something deep inside you.

He leans down and brushes a kiss against your temple. “What’s the matter, baby?”

You tilt your head up, eyes heavy, lips brushing his jaw. “Need my man.”

He chuckles, soft and low, his arm around your waist pulling you in tighter. “We’re supposed to stay until eleven.”

“No,” you murmur, voice low against his neck as you press in closer. “I need you to fuck me.”

His breath catches just slightly. You feel the shift in him, subtle and calculated, as his eyes scan the room like he’s weighing the odds. Wetness pools between your thighs as you tug lightly at the lapel of his jacket, yearning to have him as close as possible.

“You want the bathroom, baby?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear, his voice threading through the thump of the bass vibrating off the walls. “I’ll take you in there. Quick, messy, get it out of your system… then we’ll come back out and pretend nothing happened.”

You shake your head, and your voice comes out as almost a whine. “No. I need you in mating press.”

He blinks once. Slowly. Then that familiar look spreads across his face — part surprise, part heat, part wicked satisfaction. You know your words have lit something dangerous inside him.

“Jesus,” he mutters, hand gripping even tighter at your waist. “You’re not making it easy to be a gentleman tonight.”

“Don’t want a gentleman,” you say, fingers dragging down his chest. “I want you to fuck me so deep I forget my name.”

His exhale is deep, controlled. You know he’s already calculating — how fast he can get you both out of there, where the nearest exit is, how long he’s willing to wait.

“Alright,” he says, voice rough against your ear. “Five minutes. I’ll drive you home. You won't be walking tomorrow.”

At his words you bury your face in his chest with an excited smile, pulse wild.

“Good,” you whisper. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything tomorrow. Now hurry up and let’s leave, because I need your cock so bad, Luigi.”

Luigi’s hand slides down your back— slow, deliberate —fingers trailing until they glide over the curve of your hip. He gives your ass a firm squeeze, followed by a sharp smack that makes you squeal. Your fingers fist tight in his jacket, giggling as he leans forward again.

“Stop it, baby. You’re acting like a slut.”

“No I’m not, Gi,” you pout, batting your lashes up at him.

“I’m serious, I promised everyone I’d stay the whole night, and now you’re being whiny with me when I just told you I’m taking you home in five minutes.”

“Baby, we’ve been out for three hours already. I need you,” you whine, the buzz of the alcohol making your head spin as you hold both of his hands in yours and play with his fingers.

His gaze is dark, a mixture of patience and desire flickering in his eyes as he responds, voice low and steady. “Hey, I know. Listen to me, I just need to speak to the guys before I leave and then I’ll give you everything you need.”

“Promise?” you tease, eyes locked on his as you swing your interlocked fingers back and forth.

His jaw flexes, a muscle twitching as he exhales slowly, the corners of his mouth curling into a small, confident smile.

“Just be patient, bambina.”

You manage to behave for maybe three minutes after that — long enough to let him do the rounds, shake hands, act as though he isn’t walking around with your desperate little plea still ringing in his ears. But you see the way his hand stays firmly on the small of your back, how his grip tightens just a little too hard when someone makes a joke and you laugh too easily. He’s on edge, and you were the one who got him there.

Luigi’s hand doesn’t leave your waist as he walks you toward his car, fast and focused. You stumble a little in your heels, but he catches you like muscle memory, steady and firm.

“I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re this drunk.”

You smile up at him, eyes half-lidded. “I’m not that drunk, stop being so serious. You think I’m wasted just because you’re sober, Gi.”

By the time you’re both in the car — his hand resting on your thigh, the other on the wheel — you’ve already pulled your dress higher, letting your fingertips wander up the inside of his leg as you glance over at him, face displaying faux innocence.

“Baby,” he warns without looking at you, voice tight.

You smile, pretending not to hear — you know exactly what you’re doing. Your hand trails further, lightly cupping the growing bulge beneath his slacks, giving it the softest squeeze.

He groans under his breath, and shifts in his seat. “You’re gonna make me crash this car.”

You giggle softly, a teasing edge in your voice, but there’s an intensity in your gaze as you rub him slowly now— teasing, coaxing. “Don’t crash, Gigi.”

His fingers flex on the steering wheel, and he still refuses eye contact. “You testing me, huh, baby?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, leaning over, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you give his bulge another squeeze. “What, you don’t like it?”

He takes the next turn harder than you expect. The tires squeal. Your breath catches and your hand falters for just a second.

The car jerks into a sudden pull-off on a dark, empty stretch of road. There’s no one around except the two of you and the trees that surround you. You barely have time to process what’s happening — head still spinning moderately from the wine — when Luigi puts the car in park and leans over, his hand reaching across the console with a calm, steady force.

He speaks softly but firmly. “Out. Come on, baby.”

You blink in surprise, another drunk giggle spilling from your lips. “What?”

Your mind is ditsy, and you’re sitting there in front of him, dress hiked up your thighs, batting your lashes with only one thing on your mind.

Then— he’s leaning over the centre console, hands gripping your waist with a firm, commanding hold. Without a word, he pulls you from your seat and onto his lap in the driver’s seat. Your dress hikes up even higher as your thighs spread over his, and your panties graze his clothed bulge.

Luigi’s hands are heavy and firm, one gripping your ass while the other tilts your chin to make you look at him — demanding, but gentle. His hazel eyes are wild in the dark, low light spilling across his cheekbones and the curve of his mouth.

“You know you shouldn’t distract me while I’m driving,” he murmurs, voice low. “And you shouldn’t whine like a slut when I’m trying to be patient with you.”

You’re squirming now, grinding down without even thinking, but his hand smacks your ass hard— once, then again, harder this time. The sharp sting makes you gasp, clutching his jacket.

“Behave for me.” His nose brushes yours, and he pulls back a little to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. The contrast between his rough hands, his low voice and his sweet kisses is incredibly dizzying — you’re spinning because of more than just the alcohol now.

“Or I’m taking you back to the party and you can walk around there for the rest of the night with soaked panties.”

You choke out a moan, arms tightening around his neck, hips rolling against him like you don’t know what behave means.

He raises his brows, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. “Are you listening to me?”

“No,” you breathe, rocking harder onto his bulge. “I just want your cock.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, and smacks your ass one more time— firm, delicious. Then he’s shifting you off him, back into the passenger seat like it’s nothing. You blink, dazed, as he adjusts himself behind the wheel.

“Seatbelt,” he murmurs after a pause, voice warm but laced with that soft authority that always has you feeling fuzzy inside.

You buckle it with shaky fingers, thighs pressed tight together.

The rest of the drive is silent, thick with tension. Every now and then you sneak a glance over, and Luigi’s jaw is locked tight, fingers tight on the wheel, bulge still pressing hard against the front of his pants.

You can only sit there, waiting in anticipation.

When he finally pulls up to his apartment and turns off the engine, he still doesn’t say a word— just opens the door, rounds to your side, and takes your hand. He speaks so quietly you almost don’t hear him, hand on your lower back as he’s guiding you in front of him. “Upstairs. Come on.”

You bite your lip but it doesn’t suppress the laugh that comes out, and you try not to stumble, but your movements are faulty in six inch heels. The apartment door barely clicks shut behind you before you’re kicking off your heels and pushing Luigi against the wall. You sink to your knees, fingers working at his belt like you’re being paid.

“Shit, baby,” Luigi mutters, dropping his keys on the counter, eyes dark and glittering with heat as he watches you. “Didn’t even let me get my shoes off.”

“Whatever, Luigi, I’m just finishing what I was trying to do for you in the car,” you say nonchalantly, looking up at him through your lashes as you free him from his pants, his cock already hard and thick in your hand. You feel yourself almost drool at the sight. “Fuck, I’m hungry.”

He loosens his tie and groans at your desperation as you waste no time, lips wrapping around him eagerly. One hand grips the edge of the wall behind him, the other tangled in your hair as your mouth works him slowly — dragging your tongue along the underside, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on his face like you want to watch every twitch and falter.

“Yes, baby… That’s it — fuck, good girl.” His voice is strained now, hips twitching forward as your hands grip his thighs, greedy and eager. You bob your head, before pulling back to tease the tip. Your soft moans vibrate around his cock, and the groan it produces from him sends an insane rush of heat between your thighs.

Knowing what it does to him, you exaggerate pornstar-like moans over his shaft, licking and kissing along the veins. “Mmm — you like it when I moan on your cock, baby?”

The back of his head hits the wall with a soft thud as your mouth takes him deeper, working him with focused precision. He’s a picture of ruin in elegance in his tailored suit, jacket hanging open, shirt slightly wrinkled where your hands had tugged at it. The fabric hugs his shoulders, sharp against the curve of his body as pleasure ripples through him. His tie is slightly loose now, collar askew, and the flush creeping up his neck contrasts beautifully with the dark lapels framing his jaw.

“You having fun with this cock in your mouth, huh?” He grips your hair with both hands now, guiding you to take him further, although he knows it’s a struggle, of course. The shadows cast by the low lighting catch on his cheekbones and the faint sheen of sweat along his brow — he’s both wrecked and impossibly gorgeous. You enjoy the view as you attempt to take him even deeper.

“You gonna try and take me all the way? Yeah, baby? Fuck — my gorgeous girl,” he murmurs softly, moving his thumb to your cheek to wipe away the dripping mascara.

You hollow your cheeks and take him as far as you can— but you don’t manage further than just over halfway. The inches alone are difficult enough to deepthroat, but his girth feels as though he’s stretching your mouth to meet his size. You’re gagging like a whore, his precum and your spit spilling onto his slacks that neither of you had bothered to get him out of.

“Making such a mess, angel,” he coos, brushing your hair out of your face with one hand as his thumb continues to caress your cheek. You’re gazing up at him with sweet doe eyes, expression fucked-out and dreamy as your tears continue to force more mascara down your face. Luigi wipes away as much as he can — always the gentleman — but he loves the mess. To see you on your knees for him like this, starving for his cock, he wishes he could have you like this forever.

But he doesn’t want to cum yet.

“Shit— c’mere,” he breathes, groaning as he tugs you back by your hair to pull your mouth off him. Your lips glisten with precum, and he smacks the head of his cock over you twice.

You giggle like a whore, grabbing as much as you can in your hands that look ridiculously small beside the size of his member.

“Why’d you pull me off, Gi? I want your cum in my mouth,” you whine, straightening your posture on your knees as you switch to a handjob.

Luigi gazes down at you, pupils dilated and dark, hands still fisted in your hair. “Dolcezza. I thought you wanted mating press.”

“And that means you can’t cum in my mouth first?” You bat your lashes up at him, stroking and squeezing his length as he attempts to fight the grunts and moans that leave his throat.

His grip on your hair tightens, jaw clenching as he watches you. How did he get so lucky?

Luigi thinks for a moment as you continue to stroke him and press kitten licks to his tip. Then, he’s pulling you up off the floor, breath hot, cock glistening and twitching against his stomach. “I’m taking you to bed,” he groans, and suddenly you’re being swept off your feet and into his arms.

He carries you down the hall like it’s nothing, one arm under your thighs, the other across your back, and you’re giggling into his neck like a drunken angel.

Then, smack — his hand lands hard on your ass and you squeal, legs kicking instinctively around him.

“You excited, huh?” he says, smirking, as he squeezes the cheek he just punished. “Come here, bambina.”

You bury your face in his throat, squealing again when he bounces you in his arms just enough to make you wrap tighter around him. The motion presses your core flush against his hard length, heat crackling between your bodies.

He presses sweet kisses to your forehead as he carries you, and it feels like heaven in his arms.

“So you still want me in mating press, yeah?”

You hum, all warm and fuzzy against him, lips brushing his collarbone. “Please.”

He kicks the bedroom door open and tosses you onto the mattress. You bounce once, breathless and grinning with excitement. The room spins a little, and you wait in anticipation, watching Luigi kick off his shoes and remove his clothes one by one — his tie, his jacket, his shirt, then his boxers and his pants. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s on you— hands sliding up your thighs, shoving your dress higher, bunching it at your waist until the fabric is a wrinkled mess around your hips.

“You gonna let me fuck you in this dress like a slut, huh?” he grits out, dragging his palms up your bare thighs.

“Well, you didn’t give me time to take it off, so … I guess,” you shoot back, lifting your hips as he yanks your panties down with one hand and tosses them somewhere behind him.

“Okay, yeah,” he laughs sarcastically. “You’re the one who dropped to her knees the second we got home. You couldn’t wait, no? Starving for me.”

“I am starving,” you whine, wrapping your legs around his waist to grind up against him. “So stop talking and feed me.”

You’re giggling again, and his mouth twists into another smirk — equal parts impressed and amused.

“Up,” he instructs, grabbing your thighs. “Higher — yeah, like that.”

He hikes your legs up over his shoulders, and without another word, lines himself up and drives into you in one sharp, brutal thrust.

You scream, back arching as he fills you completely — no easing in. Just raw need.

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes locked on the way your mouth drops open. “You’re soaked for me. Been dripping since the party, huh?”

“No… mmph … since I first saw you put the suit on before we left,” you choke out, sprawled across the pillow, legs trembling as he sets a ruthless pace, thrusting deep, hips slamming against yours. You can barely process a thought — he’s got you folded under him in a perfect mating press, knees pressed up near your chest, his broad hands gripping your thighs so tight you know you’ll feel it tomorrow.

“This what you were craving, baby? Is this what you made me take you home for?” he grits through clenched teeth.

“Yes—yes, Luigi, please—”

He cuts you off with a hard thrust, making your words break into a cry. “Can’t form a sentence now? No? Too drunk on this cock, huh, bambina?”

“Mmhmm.” You shut your eyes, feeling every thrust so deep.

“That’s my beautiful girl — so tight, baby. This is what you needed, oh, that’s it.”

You nod helplessly, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes from the pressure, the stretch, the overwhelming way he keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you over and over and over.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans, leaning forward to kiss you hard, then biting your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to watch your face twist in pleasure. “Taking me so fucking good, baby. This pretty pussy’s all mine to bring home, yeah?”

“All yours, Gi, mhmm,” you whimper, barely coherent.

“That’s it, angel, say it.”

“Oh, fuck, Luigi—I can’t—yeah, it’s yours—oh, baby, don’t stop—”

The sound he makes is heavenly, somewhere between a whine and a groan, as he pounds into you even harder, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room. His grip on your thighs tightens as he keeps you pinned in place.

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” His voice is low, a taunt now. “Tell me.”

You bite your lip hard, whining, desperate. “Please, baby.”

Your hips jerk up, chasing every thrust, every ounce of friction. “Please, Luigi— fuck, I’m so good for you, please—”

His eyes narrow, lips pressed together. “Cum for me, beautiful. Come on, let go for me — that’s my girl.”

The second the words leave his mouth your entire body goes taut, then shatters beneath him, your orgasm crashing through you so hard you’re screaming his name. “Fuck, Luigi — oh my God.”

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release, watching every twitch, every cry. “Gonna let me cum inside, angel? Hm?”

“Yeah, baby, I want it all — oh fuck, give it to me—”

And then his fingers are digging into your hips, thrusts faltering as he spills into you with a guttural moan, collapsing over you, breathless against your neck.

You’re both shaking, tangled in each other. And even as he catches his breath, he’s pressing kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your forehead, murmuring against your skin:

“My perfect fucking mess… Look at you, baby… Still trying to sass me when you can’t even talk. Makeup all down your face. I need a picture when we’re done.”

You laugh softly, dazed. And then you pause as he pulls out and rolls over to lay beside you. “We’re not done?”

He chuckles. “No, I want you like this now.” He sits up against the headboard, having only just caught his breath, and pulls you into his lap effortlessly. You squeal, laughing through the aftershocks, your body light against his chest.

Then his hand comes down hard on your ass again, making you jolt and squeal as he laughs, holding your hips to keep you perched over him.

“Still got the energy to laugh, huh?” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “Didn’t fuck you hard enough.”

You pout, grinding against him lazily, his cum seeping out of you with your own release over his hardening length. “You’re obsessed with me,” you mumble, breath hitching as you move against him, your sensitive body already aching for more.

He hums, cupping your ass in both hands now, guiding you to grind slow and deep. “Can you blame me, baby? My cum’s dripping out of you and onto my cock, but you’re still whining like you haven’t had enough.”

“I haven’t,” you whisper, eyes fluttering as you press your forehead to his. “I want more, Gi… I want it again.”

He tilts his head, a slow smile spreading across his face, and his dimples make your heart flutter. “You gonna cry if I don’t give it to you?”

You nod, grinding down harder now, lips parted, hands clutching his shoulders like you’re trying to anchor yourself.

“Then bounce on me, baby,” he breathes, voice low and coaxing. “Come on.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Without answering, you reach between you, guiding him to your entrance again, fingers shaky with anticipation. He watches you intently the entire time, his hazel eyes gleaming like he’s memorising every twitch of your lips, every tremble in your thighs.

As you sink down, inch by inch, your mouth falls open, a broken gasp catching in your throat.

“F-fuck, you’re too big,” you whine, the stretch burning. “Gi, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he says softly, hands stroking up and down your back. “You’ve done it before. You’ll do it again. Take it all, baby girl, come on.”

You keep easing down slowly, until he’s fully seated inside you and your body’s shaking from the stretch. He’s so deep you feel him everywhere, your vision blurring as you bury your face into his shoulder.

“My girl,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “I know it’s difficult, baby, but I knew you could take me. So tight — your pussy was made for me.”

You whimper, hips starting to move — slow at first, then faster, rougher as desperation creeps back in. He lets you grind and ride him, lets you chase the rhythm you need. But your thighs are starting to feel sore from the first position, and when he senses your legs starting to give, he wraps his arms around you and shifts.

Suddenly, you’re flat against his chest and he’s doing the work — hips snapping up into you with brutal, deep thrusts that have you screaming, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He smacks your ass again, rough and fast, one hand gripping your hair, the other cradling your ass as he fucks up into you from below, hitting that spot so perfectly it makes your entire body shake.

“So loud for me, cara mia,” he murmurs in your ear, as you’re moaning helplessly into his neck. “Everyone’s gonna think you’re a whore.”

“Only for you, Luigi,” you gasp, clinging to him.

He laughs softly, kissing your forehead, his nose nuzzling yours.

“My whore, yeah? Just for me?” he coos, voice breathless and tender even as his thrusts continue to hit your spot devastatingly hard.

Your walls flutter around him, overwhelmed, close again — your body begging for another release you can barely hold off.

“You gonna cum again for me?” he asks, kissing your temple as he pounds into you. “Gonna make a mess all over me?”

“Uh-huh—oh fuck, Luigi, I can’t—please—”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers, soft against your ear. “That’s my baby girl. Cum on my cock.”

And you do — with a sob, a full-body tremble, your moans muffled against his shoulder as your orgasm takes you hard and fast, crashing into you like a wave.

He holds you through it, kissing your forehead, caressing your hair. “That’s it, princess, I love you — so perfect for me,” he murmurs, buried deep inside you. “Want you like this forever.”

And with the way your body clings to him, wrecked and trembling and blissed out — you wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else either.

You’re still pulsing around him, a limp mess slumped over his chest when he lifts you off his cock with a low groan, your slick dripping between your thighs. He cups your face in one hand, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and leans in to kiss you — slow and deep — before he murmurs:

“On your knees, baby. One more.”

You slide off his lap without a second thought, sinking to the floor like you belong there. His cock is flushed, wet, still painfully hard. You take him into your mouth with a moan, tongue swirling around the tip before you sink down, swallowing him deep, your hands wrapped tight around the base.

Luigi’s head tips back against the headboard, one hand tangled in your hair, guiding you just how he likes — slow at first, then faster, sloppier. You moan around him, and the vibration makes his thighs tense.

“Giving you everything you need tonight, beautiful. You happy with my cock back in your mouth, yeah?” he breathes out, eyes flicking down to watch his length move between your lips. “Treating that big cock so well, fuck, baby…”

You look up, drool and precum spilling down your chin, and hum your answer as he thrusts into your mouth harder. You can barely breathe, but the praise alone makes your pussy clench. You adore this — the weight of him on your tongue, the heat of his body, the way he sounds when you’re the one doing this to him.

He pulls back just before he gets too close, and your lips chase him without thinking. “Open,” he pants, stroking himself now with fast, tight fists. “Stick out that tongue, baby.”

You obey instantly, eyes wide, tongue out, face tilted up for him like an offering.

“Amore... sì, così— la mia puttana perfetta, solo mia.” Luigi groans something in Italian — low and desperate — and then he’s spilling over your tongue, thick ropes of cum painting your mouth, your lips, dripping down your chin. You moan eagerly, swallowing some of it, letting the rest sit filthy and warm on your skin.

“Fuck—fuck,” he growls, still twitching in his hand as he strokes out the last few drops, dragging his thumb across your lips to smear it messier.

You swallow again, licking your lips with a smug little smile. “Told you I was hungry.”

“Come here, beautiful,” he murmurs, voice soft now. “Give me a kiss.”

You crawl back into his lap and he pulls you in close, kissing you slow and sweet, tasting himself on your tongue with a quiet groan. His arms wrap around you, hands warm on your back, and he holds you there for a moment—just breathing you in.

Then he stands, lifting you — your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. You squeal, laughing, hands in his curls as he bounces you once in his arms, your bodies still buzzing from the events of the past hour.

“I love you,” you murmur into his neck, voice muffled and dreamy.

He smiles against your skin, kissing your temple. “I love you, my baby. Even when you’re acting like a whore in public.”

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