For @vershautece, Based Off Of This And A Little Of This 🩷 Enjoy!

Spencer Reid Masterlist

Fluff ~ ❤️

Smut ~ ❤️‍🔥

Angst (with a happy ending) ~ ❤️‍🩹

Series

Austin Baby ~ Single mom!reader ~ ❤️❤️‍🔥

1 ~ 2 (coming soon)

One shots

Nothing here yet

this gif is something I take extremely seriously

2x09

Iced Chai

Short cuz I'm very short on time but still wanted to get this out. I'm likely not going to be writing about his parentage or upbringing in this context again cuz I don't like doing it. This is me warning you that I think this fic is shit, its not my best work.

For roughly fifty percent of the population, it’s impossible to conceptualize the life of a man.

The reassurance of walking down the street at night without the heavy burden of being snatched by the hair and swept away. The content that stems from buying an eight-in-one shampoo, conditioner, dish soap, body wash, laundry detergent…those kinds of things.

They’d never understand what kind of creatures the other side of the ocean houses. While Luigi grew up one way, you grew another.

Now that you thought about it…Luigi never really told you what his childhood was like beyond little tidbits of information about his family. Where he grew up, how he spent his summers before, who he knew, what his teen years were like.

But strangely, never his upbringing.

Naturally, you didn’t think anything of it. After all, it wasn’t really any of your business, and you could barely even remember your own childhood.

You toddled up the stairs, your cotton white socks sending quiet and dull thumps down the hall with each step on the rickety old stairs. Clad in a yellow and white bikini top, white tennis shorts, a white visor, and an arm full of bracelets, you prepared to head out of your house in just a couple of minutes to go surfing with Luigi.

“GiGi! You ready to—…Why are you still in pajamas?” You asked, leaning against the white door frame of your bedroom and peering at Luigi as he lay tangled in your sheets.

“Can’t go today,” he stated, his face buried in your silk and woven pillows.

“Bitch I literally just got dressed, get your ass up,” you huffed, carrying your body over to him so you could pluck his bare arm.

“I know! Just not today. I feel sick as shit”

You hesitated, his abnormally snippy tone causing you to raise your brows slightly.

“Alright, alright! Chill, stop yelling at me in my house,” you murmured, furrowing your brows at him.

“I don’t even have the energy to yell…” he groaned, rolling his face to the side so he could glance at your pretty face. “Enjoy the beach, pretty.”

“I’m not going to the beach without you…I literally live here I’m not missing anything. I was just going cuz you wanted to,” you murmured, ripping the Velcro strap from your white sun visor.

“No, go without me,” he urged the side of his face smushed into your sheets.

“It’s fine, Gi. I’m gonna order food, what do you want?” You asked, sliding a hoodie over your bikini so you could take your top off without flashing Luigi.

“Please, I don’t want anything…just get yourself something, I’ll Venmo you,” he huffed, rolling his eyes as he rolled over.

A wince.

You paused, unpacking both his sudden moodiness and pained whimper at the same time while trying to avoid brain overload.

“You good? Do you want me to get you some Advil?”

“Huh? Nah, nah, I'm fine, just…just go and get your food. I’ll be downstairs later,”

“Bro, stop bitching, let me help if something’s wrong—“

“The fuck are you being so pushy for! I’m fine, damn!”

Your face contorted into a mixture of confusion and disgust as you looked down at him from the head of your bed. Your brows furrowed as your face slowly began to sour…what a fucking brat.

“First of all, stop fucking shouting at me before I take your keys. Second of all, if you didn’t want help you didn’t have to get disrespectful. But I see you got it figured out, so you can stay here,” you scolded, leaving your room and slamming the heavy oak door behind you. Something Luigi would have never done.

When you left, Luigi suddenly felt like crying. You offered help like a normal friend would, and all he did was show his ass to the only person that could actually pull him out of your sheets.

And even after pushing your company away in favor of retaining a strong image, the pain in his spine didn’t go away.

The sharp, stabbing sensation didn’t ease up on the nerves in his back. They pressed against his skin as their sharp talons dug and clawed the invisible blood to the forefront of his mind.

It burned like hell. Every movement just seemed to put more pressure on his bones, and the top of his legs felt numb like television static.

The best way he knew— or the best way he was taught — how to cope with such pain was  “suck it up” and go about your day, because lord knows America doesn’t pay its citizens enough to afford to live pain-free. He bit down on his lip until he drew blood, the ruby red iron staining his plump bottom lip as he lifted his head to avoid staining your pillows.

A move that proved to further add to the toppling tower of agony. He inhaled sharply, the cold salty air from your constantly open window filtering through his teeth as his eyes screwed shut.

Tears pricked at his waterline as he tried to remain as still as possible. Moving was painful, breathing was painful, and sitting still was painful…it seemed like there was no other choice than to just lie down and face it by himself. Like he’d always done.

Like he was supposed to.

That is until you burst through the door.

And there you were, standing by your bedside with a heating pad, Oxycodone, tea, and a little iced chai for yourself with milky-looking cold foam just above the ice. He looked you up and down, taking in your changed outfit before straining his eyes to look out the window.

He had been lying in your bed in pain for no less than a couple of hours. And normally that’s the way he’d prefer it, but since moving in with you during the summer he had decided on one thing.

He didn’t want to shoulder his pain by himself— correction, he didn’t want to bear the burden of solitude anymore. He wanted to stay in your solitude.

“Next time you need help just fucking ask. Bitch.”

“Sorry, hon…thank you.”

taglist ; @lorelaisg1lmore @flaca335 @7luvrs @fancyyanci @f4b111 @born444u @harrys0nlyange1 @lovelyfeeling @jenisaswift13 @straw8berry

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)

misbehaving

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ your plan to piss off your cute tutor backfires in the best way possible.

part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; unprotected (PLS practice safe sex); jealousy; brat taming; choking; some painplay; undernegotiated scene (all consensual!!)

notes : i could NOT find a cute little picture that fit for this one i’m sorry💔

You’ve been bad.

Which is weird to say, because you aren’t doing anything particularly naughty, or morally dubious, or criminal, for that matter. You’re doing homework. Math homework.

And what’s so bad about math homework?

Well, it would be different if you were working alone, or maybe with a friend of yours. It would be different if you weren’t in the library with a boy from your math class, who you proposed doing said homework with not even an hour ago. You don’t know this boy. Not well, anyway. His math skills are…mediocre at best, and the same could be said for just about every other aspect of him. His name is something simple, unremarkable—starts with a J, you think—and you don’t care to relearn it, because this boy is simply a decoy, a prop in your plan.

Right. Your plan.

You have a bit of a problem lately: your tutor, Luigi, has been quite busy with something. You have no idea what. You never do, because he doesn’t like to talk about himself, but you know that something has been keeping his time occupied because you haven’t seen him in a few weeks and when he does respond to your texts, he’s apologetic but short, dry, unengaged. It's driving you mad. You’re bored. He’s probably tinkering with computers or doing whatever it is people do in fraternities and you’re bored out of your mind, having to fend for yourself in mathematical and sexual proclivities. It’s not just your raging attraction to him that makes this problematic for you; in fact, if he weren’t so damn busy, you’d probably be doing your homework with him instead. But he is, so here you are, armed with your decoy and one goal only: to make your crush tutor jealous.

Does he even care enough about you to respond to petty tricks like this?

He had tried to talk to you before you made it to the library, and you had admittedly forgotten about your response. Looking at your drawn-out and seemingly unproductive conversation makes your skin feel hot, now:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Where you at

library

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : What doing?

hw

with [REDACTED] from math

There are two new messages from Luigi, ones you haven’t seen, sent about forty minutes ago while you were knee deep in your studies:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : What

Who???

One question mark would be plenty worth an eyebrow raise, but three implies something much stronger, something tinged with what may very well be actual anger. You can’t decide if you think that’s a good or bad thing.

Your decoy is packing his things beside you, your work finished for the day. Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest, like this library is only big enough for the two of you to crowd inside; the uncertainty of trying to push Luigi’s buttons makes you feel claustrophobic, and so, so wrong, but you’re chasing the high as you stand up to grab your backpack and thank Mr. J or whatever his name is for his help. It’s not very sincere—you know that at least a few of your answers are definitely wrong. The price you pay for dick.

Hugging your cardigan to you, you make your way off campus and start the walk to your apartment. The night is bustling with activity, as to be expected in a college town, but aside from your fluttering heart you have no fear, no back-burner thoughts of drunk dudes cornering you or shifty old guys trying to offer you a ride home. All you can think of is what Luigi is planning on doing about your disrespect.

Inside your dorm complex it’s much warmer. The elevator ride up to your floor is silent, aside from the sound of your own exhales. Tension builds in you and wraps up like a ball of rubber bands, threatening to snap, pull you apart. You’ve never seen Luigi mad before. You almost wonder if he has it in him; but that thought doesn’t last for long, because it’s quickly shot down by the rush of memories you have of him, active, protective, quick on his feet. Not violent in the slightest, but you imagine that he has soft spots deep inside him, ones that rupture at the slightest provocation. You’ve caught him at the gym a few times. Shirtless. Sweating. All meat and bones. He could easily throw you any which way if he wanted to.

When you round the corner of the hall you hear footsteps rushing behind you, then directly beside you, a hand grabbing your arm.

You don’t even need to turn your head to know who it is.

“Is your roommate home?” Luigi asks.

You are suddenly walking much faster with his guidance, and you have to be mindful of where you place your feet with each step so that you don’t trip over yourself. Should she be? Right now you’ll have the apartment to yourself—she works a night shift after her classes—but with the tone of Luigi’s voice and his firm grip on your arm you worry that you just might have triggered something serious in him, something animalistic.

Swallowing thickly, you answer, “no.”

“Good,” he rumbles. Then, matter-of-factly: “Because you’re going to lead us to your dorm, and then you and I are going to have a little talk.”

So, it’s official: you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. You expected some sternness, maybe a bit of a talking to, but overall nothing more than the almost overwhelming sweetness Luigi was known for. Right now it doesn’t seem like he wants to do much talking, or much sweetness, for that matter, and the thought of what’s in store for you has you anticipating bruises on your hips and an aching core.

The door is barely open before he’s ushering you inside and backing you against the nearest wall.

“I got your text,” he starts, “and I saw you. With—with fucking what’s-his-face from math.”

You resist the urge to grin. There is so much genuine jealousy in his words, jealousy over a pawn, a desperate volunteer you picked at random just to get his eyes back on you. Nobody. He’s jealous over nobody. You weren’t thinking he’d be cool as a cucumber, obviously, but to be this angry over a guy that both of you hardly know is a reaction that has you second-guessing every moment you’ve spent with him. Was he really this crazy over you?

“Yeah?” you scoff for effect. “What’s-his-face from math was helping me. With math. Big deal.”

And then he does something that makes your insides turn to slush. Luigi pauses, and you can see his tongue poking his cheek in frustration, his eyes trained on your face, his hands on his hips. It’s a look you’ve never seen on him before and you love it, every little detail, the way his brows furrow, the way those pretty lashes flutter. You feel like a kid getting caught with your hand right in the cookie jar. Maybe you shouldn’t have messed with him; maybe it was a bad idea to provoke him like this, hit him where it hurts, get him riled up over some aimless homework you did with another boy just to get his attention. But it would be a big, fat, horrendous lie to say that you don’t like where this is going. That you aren’t already slick between your legs thinking about what he might do to you when he’s this agitated.

Before you can open your mouth to speak again he has you pinned to the wall, towering over you just slightly. His hand is on your neck. He isn’t choking you, not even close, but there is just enough pressure against your throat to have your stomach in knots.

“What the fuck is this?” Luigi grits, low and rough. Dark. “Do you think it’s funny to just play me like that? Fuck with my feelings like it’s nothing?”

You gulp and crumble into yourself. When he talks to you like you’re in trouble you can’t help but feel small, weak, pliable, a bit like you would let him do just about anything he wanted to your body as long as he keeps his eyes on you. Helpless. Like prey.

The hand on your throat comes to seize your chin, hard. “I asked you a question, baby.”

To think that he’s probably only using just half of his strength stirs excitement deep in your belly.

“I didn’t realize it meant that much to you,” you squeak. It’s not completely a lie. This side of Luigi is new, a little scary, but unexpectedly titillating.

“Oh, you didn’t realize?” He is grabbing your face now, between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, holding your head straight so that you can’t look away from him and your lips push into a little pout. His knee juts between your legs. “Really? You didn’t realize it meant that much?”

“No, sir, I didn’t—”

The moment the word sir leaves your mouth he’s slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His hand gripping your ass knocks all the air straight from your lungs.

“You just have to be a fucking brat,” he grumbles. “Which one is your room?”

You offer a pathetic point at your door, accompanied by an even more pathetic whimper so that he can look in your direction. What can you say? It’s hard to think straight when he pulls out the B Word so casually.

Following your directions, Luigi carries you into your bedroom, closing and locking the door and then tossing you—carefully!—onto your bed. He has your arms pinned above your head in an instant and his other hand begins to make quick work of getting your pants down. Your heart is beating so fast you can hardly hear him speaking to you:

“Do you think this is how you should get a guy’s attention? Huh?” His voice is all warm in your ears, like marshmallows roasting over crackling fire. Your legs are spread wide and he is slotted perfectly between them. “All you had to do was just ask, baby. How fucking hard is that?”

A shadow of a grin teases your lips. “Clearly, it worked, didn’t it?”

He smacks your cunt through your panties and leans down close to you, smirking at your gasp. “You’ve got a smart fuckin’ mouth,” Luigi chides. “Keep running it and see where it gets you.”

He knows exactly what your intentions are. He has you figured out, had you figured out the moment you sent him that text, probably, despite your best efforts. You should have never underestimated your own tutor. Your shirt is swiftly pulled up and over your breasts, so that he can take one in his hand, growl at your lack of a bra, squeeze you, twist a nipple between his fingers. You want to run your hands through his hair but he still has your arms held above your head, and he can feel your wrists straining feebly, wanting desperately to hold him. I’m sorry, you want to say, I’m sorry, Gi, really, I didn’t mean it, but it would be useless, because you know that this won’t be over until he’s made his point, until you’re made very sure of the fact that he will accept absolutely none of this vindictive bratty shit.

And then he lets go of your hands momentarily to pull off his shirt, and you make the mistake of reaching for his pants. Luigi instantly has you pinned to your bed again, this time holding you down with both arms. You almost wish one of them was free so he could grab your face again, taunt you, make you feel all weak and stupid.

“Stay still,” he spits. He collects your wrists in one hand again and moves the other to the button of his jeans. “Someone ought to teach you some fucking manners, don’t you think? Teach you how to ask for what you want properly?”

Oh, you’ve never needed a lesson in behavior more than you do right this minute. “Yes, yes,” you agree, nodding absently.

“Yeah?” Luigi has his pants and his boxers down all at once and when you feel his hand sliding into your underwear it takes all of your resolve to swallow your mewl. “Oh, you’re so wet. Dirty fuckin’ girl. You know, I think I should just—”

Before you can blink he’s flipping you over, guiding you to pose exactly how he wants you, on your hands and knees with your legs spread and your back arching up towards him. You feel like a ragdoll, pulled this way and that, and you fucking love it, this untamed, beast-like side of him that just throws you around his court like a tennis ball.

“—There we go.”

Swiftly, Luigi pulls your panties down your thighs, tugs off your cardigan, and delivers a restrained spank to your ass. He comes up behind you and moves to do something that makes you heart sink and your cunt pulse: his right arm wraps around your face and hooks underneath your chin, bicep looping around your neck as he pulls you upward, against his chest. Holy shit. He has you in a fucking chokehold. Not enough to actually block oxygen from your brain, but enough that you can feel his muscles flexing, pressure tight on your throat.

“And how about this?” Luigi asks, deep and hot like lava in your ear. “Is this okay?”

The yes that leaves you is pained and broken, but your sticky, wet pussy tells him an entirely different story, one that reassures him as he pushes his cock inside of you.

Without any prep the stretch of him burns, but in the best way possible; after all, this was exactly what you wanted, him splitting you open and claiming every inch of depth inside of you. Yes, you should’ve known that this is exactly what you signed up for. You wanted to make him mad, make him itch for you, so badly that even the thought of you just doing math with any other guy has him wanting to put people in chokeholds, apparently—but right now, with Luigi working his dick inside of you, trapping you from air, whispering pure and utter filth into your ear, you aren’t regretful—certainly not—but you’re bracing yourself.

“Not so sassy now, huh?” he mocks. He warned you that running your mouth might earn you something special, but you certainly weren’t expecting this. You can only grunt in response.

He smiles. “Yeah, hard to talk when I’ve got you like this, isn’t it? Figures. Only time you’re ever quiet is when I’m giving this pussy some attention.”

Unreal. Absolutely unfair. You want to kiss his perfect mouth for saying all the words you wanted to hear him say to you, in that raspy, fucked-out voice that makes you whine like a bitch in heat. But it would be useless to try, because Luigi’s tight grip on you makes it impossible to move even your hips. His, though, pump with quick succession, snapping into you, ruining your cunt.

“That’s it,” he groans. You’ve sucked the mercy right out of him. He is fucking you relentlessly, forcing sounds out of you that he’ll be turning over in his brain for future reference. He learns something new about you every time you’re together, especially so right now.

“I love—fuck—” you’re trying hard to tell him that you agree, this is it, exactly how you imagined it, but with his arm tight around your neck and his cock brushing a certain spot that makes your toes curl it becomes increasingly difficult to express your satisfaction in anything other than lewd, incomprehensible noise. “I love the way you make me take it, sir.”

Luigi growls. “I’m just taking what’s mine.” If his other hand weren’t holding your head in place he would be playing with your clit, but the chokehold prevents that, so instead he pounds into you harder and chants into your ear, “mine, mine, all fucking mine.”

And then it starts to feel like just too much, because he’s panting and moaning and you want just the sound of this and him fucking you hard on repeat every day for the rest of your life. That would prove to be quite difficult, though—having to hear him nonstop would mean having to think about him all the time, too, even in the most innocuous moments, and there’s no way you could bear all of that at once. You can hardly handle it right now.

Suddenly, he starts to slow, and he releases you from his hold but before you can complain he rasps, “do you want to come?”. He already knows the answer to that question, so when you whimper he pulls out and follows it with: “Then get on your knees.”

And you do, faster than you ever have before, kneeling on the floor in front of your bed with him standing above you. Your cunt is still burning with need but Luigi comes close, stroking himself, his cock just mere centimeters from your face. “Open your mouth,” he breathes, and you lurch forward, holding onto his thighs and looking up at him as he guides his dick between your lips.

Fuck. He loves that you can take a hint. Knowing he’s close you start a steady rhythm, hollowing your cheeks around him, moving quickly and putting effort into each back-and-forth of your head. You can taste yourself on him. Luigi is groaning above you, speaking like he has to empty every thought that enters his mind: “oh, baby, yes” and “just like that” and “ohhhh fuck…”

You take him as deep in your throat as you can. He almost can’t stand to look at you as you’re sucking him, can hardly take your face and your mouth at the same time, but before he can come he catches a glimpse of you; he has your hair held back in both of his hands, your pretty doe eyes filled with tears, looking up at him through fluttering lashes. Rough carpet burns against your knees. You know that there will be bruises later, probably all over you, blatant proof of the feral and purely human attraction between the both of you—proof of his hands all over you, marking his territory, staking his claim. He thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

Luigi hisses, warns you that he’s coming, and when he lets your hair go and grabs your face with both hands he’s spilling into your mouth, warm and bitter. “Swallow,” he’s telling you, “swallow f’ me,” and you try to tame your gag reflex as you obey his demands, his cock still rammed in your throat. You whimper around him and the noise he makes is fucking obscene.

And then he tilts your chin up, pries your mouth open with his thumb so that you can stick your tongue out and show him that not a drop of him remains. He flashes you an absolutely dangerous grin. “Atta girl. C’mere.”

He helps you up onto the bed and guides you to lay onto your back with one big hand, smoothing over your stomach and tracing down your pelvis to your drooling cunt. Those long, skilled fingers dip into your slick and spread you, caressing, exploring. You’re sensitive after such a brutal pounding and each time he brushes against your clit you jolt with delight; he giggles at you, like he’s amused by the way his own body can break you.

“Sweet girl,” Luigi breathes, and you look into his eyes, look at his angel face as he stares down at you with adoration. You’re happy that he lets you move your hands, now, because you can hold him against your palm, trace his sideburns with your thumb, study the nearly symmetrical moles on each of his cheeks. He is so beautiful. You hardly know where to contain these feelings you hold for him.

Two fingers are probing your pussy, dipping inside, and your keen is louder than you intend it to be. He knows just where to look, instantly finding your sweet spot. He’s perfect. “Gi, fuck.”

“Baby, ‘m sorry I made you feel lonely.” You love how his voice sounds right now, dark and dripping with sugar, spice, and everything nice. “I get too focused, you know how I am. I missed you. Missed this pretty pussy.”

Inside your cunt Luigi is massaging your G-spot, his other hand gliding down your stomach, thumb meeting your clit and starting a gentle pattern of quick, circular motions. You already feel close watching both of his hands pleasuring you. Sharp nails fly up to dig into his broad shoulder, the back of your head burrowing into your pillow.

“You like that?” he leans down to kiss your nose, then your mouth. “Are you almost there, pretty girl? Gonna come all over my fingers?”

You nod incessantly.

He grins, white teeth flashing at you; he looks wolfish with his sharp canines and focused eyes. “Yeah? Let me see it, baby. Give it to me.”

And then you’re there, falling over the edge into his arms, squeezing his fingers like a vice and sobbing underneath him. Luigi helps you ride it out, still rubbing your clit and sending sparks through you, whispering sweet nothings that you don’t fully process as you come down from your climax. The inside of your thighs are slick and your room smells like sex and sweat.

“Are you mad at me?” Luigi asks from beside you after a while, eyes anxious.

You blink. “What? No, Gi. No. Why would I be mad?”

“I kinda left you hanging for a while,” he confesses, still clearly regretful of his bad habits of perfectionism and something that might be better described by a formal diagnosis in some edition of the DSM but you’re far too preoccupied and frankly under-qualified to name it right now. “I wasn’t trying to, and I meant to let you know, or tell you something, anyway, but different things kept coming up and I had to—”

Threading your fingers through his curls, you bring him close and kiss him, effectively shutting him up. You were never really mad. You aren’t now, anyway. Not when he’s this cute and so obviously concerned with you.

“I’m not mad,” you repeat. “It’s okay, Luigi.”

It’s a bit too dark to tell, but you think you can see his face flush pink, and he smiles at you, his dimple prominent under your palm. Then, he looks downward, towards your tits, towards his hand holding your waist, and his smile gets wider, its innocence from before missing.

“Can I make it up to you?”

The Misadventures of Two Geniuses

pairing: post-prison!spencer reid x gen-z!reader

warning: generally short one-shots of crack, fluff, or angst; reader has physical descriptions, see each chapter warnings.

summary: you were once spencer's grad student until you ask to switch. now you are just a pain on his ass.

in order of posting:

rizz - in which you teach spencer the meaning of "rizz" and emily gives you an offer you can't refuse

paintball - in which emily took the team paintballing

brick - in which they took your phone away for making spencer and luke viral

origin - in which you finally tell them how you met spencer

bare minimum - in which they teach you how to date old school style

bau team incorrect quotes

more coming soon!

Spencer Reid Masterlist:

Guide: Smut ●, Angst ☆, Fluff <3

Kissing in the office <3 by @reidalert

Sleepy Needy Spence ● by @nereidprinc3ss

Work call during the act ● by @nevvdrinksteaa

Pregnancy Announcement (sort of) , vol.2 <3

by @pathologicalreid

"I'm not sleeping with Reid" ● by @incognit0slut

Headcannons <3 by @rafesgfs

Well-kept secret ☆ < 3 by @astrophileous

Work place environment by @nereidprinc3ss

Glasses <3, vol. 2 <3 , vol.3 ● by @luveline, @atlabeth and @raekensluver

Falling asleep on his shoulder, vol.2 <3

by @inkdrinkerworld and @bklynsboys

Please don't have somebody waiting for you <3

by @cerisereids

Being a menace, vol.2 <3 (tho it is suggestive kinda) by @in-another-april and @incognit0slut

Comforting him <3 by @little-miss-dilf-lover

Sleep Deprivation <3 by @faunalune

I love this too much ● by @reiderwriter

Sneaking around ● by @nereidprinc3ss

First Time ● by @luveline

Between the books ● by @reidmotif

Whiny and Spoiled ● by @nereidprinc3ss

Hyper Independent <3 by @inkdrinkerworld

New haircut <3 by @inkdrinkerworld

Waking up with kisses <3 by @secretlovezz

No vacancy <3 @kiss-inthekitchen

Reuniting after prison (Hotch!reader) ☆<3

by @pathologicalreid

Being a munch ● by @lis-likes-fics

Me while watching CM ● by @an1t4k

High Heels <3 by @guiltyasreid

Decoy ● by @violetrainbow412-blog

Tech analyst reader <3 by @moonstruckme

Mixed Messages (series) by @easy-there-leftovers

Addicted to you ● @spencerreidenjoyer

Drunk confessions <3 by @nereidprinc3ss

Proposals <3 by @reidmania

Plastic Hearts (Gideon!reader) ☆ by @atlabeth

I might be in love (Prentiss!reader)

by @januaryembrs

This hurts but in a good way ☆

by @aliteralsemicolon

Heavenly sweet ● by @reidsfilm

His hands, vol.2 ● by @raekensluver and @t1red-twillight

Coming home late <3 by @fairysongs

Soft Intimacy <3 by @t1red-twilight

Missed Lunches (Gideon!reader)☆

by @mindfullycriminal

Grounded (Hotch!reader) <3 by @rreids

His kisses <3 ● by @ inkdrinkerworld

Dad!Spence:

Paternity leave <3 by @radiant-reid

Mini Doctor <3 by @reidsdaisies

Hard to say no <3 by @radiant-reid

Lamby goes to work <3 by @cerisereids

Everything in the world <3 by @lis-likes-fics

Daddy's girl <3 by @midniteluv

Toddlerus Interruptus <3 by @reid-fiction

Midnight Scaries <3 by @reid-fiction

Other Masterlists:

Masterlist 1 by @pathologicalreid

Masterlist 2 by @radiant-reid

Masterlist 3 by @slowburningechoes

Note: sorry some of the tags may not work my Tumblr is acting up, also a Spencer Reid shod be posted sometime soon

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