#limoncello

Warnings: It's 4th of July and I'm heavily tipsy, explicit content, Spencer Reid being a munch, Spencer Reid mb to the thought of reader, he's a fiend!! Fem! Reader in mind! Female anatomy. Uh lmk if anything else. Please request!

I'm quite tipsy off Limoncello right now so imagine Spencer so addicted to the taste of you on his lapping tongue that he'd be between your legs for hours. He'd hold your hips down with his big, veiny hands as he not-so-subtly bucked his hips against the mattress. (Eventually creaming in his pants like a teenager) His tongue would glide greedily against your swollen clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking on it so obdenietely as he slides two fingers into your entrance. He wouldn't only be addicted to eating you out because it brought him pleasure but also because he just loves pleasing you so much. He felt it was a necessity to be at your beck and call, ready to please because how did he get so lucky to have you? When he'd be away on a case, gone for days and/or weeks- alone in his hotel room he'd let his hand travel down past his waistband and shut his eyes, remembering just how much he loved the sound of your moans, how they'd grow more and more frequent the closer you got, how your thighs would tighten around his head when his fingers would curl against your g-spot so perfectly, hips bucking towards his wet, flushed face to chase his frantic, wanton tongue.

Yeah. He'd gladly die between your thighs.

The results of Limoncello.