Iced Chai

touch || luigi mangione

oh hii !! i saw @vershautece’s post and hadddd to write this, and deepest apologies i have NOT written smut before like my blog is losing its virginity </3 anywaysss hope u enjoy it!!

WARNINGS: f!reader, 18+, sex, dry humping/thigh riding, lu cumming in his pants, college!luigi loses his virginity, unprotected p in v i tried proofreading but when i wrote this i was half asleep so ☠

SUMMARY: Literally just sex (taking Lu's virginity :3) and dry humping him in his sweatpants gahhh

WC: 2.8k

Mess, mess, what a mess! Homecoming at UPenn was no joke. The frat boys painted their bodies the college’s colors, rowdy hallways and loud music. The campus buzzed with life; and the boys showed no shame — especially Luigi Mangione. He was new; a freshman. In contrast to the other male students, he was different. Had the smarts you know would take him many places, the charisma of a romcom boyfriend, everything you could want or need.

Lucky for you, he had his eyes drawn to your pretty figure, the way your skirt bounced, your thighs, and overall, your smile. He loved those rosy lips and kind flashes of teeth. 

“Did I get my back?” Luigi asks his friend, Lane. 

“Barely.” His friend chuckles, most of the paint on Luigi’s lanky figure was dried. He just needed assistance mapping out the ‘P’, since he and his friends were going to line up in the stands and spell out Penn. 

“Can you help me then?”

“No, I gotta get help myself, I’m not gonna paint you, that’d be weird!” Lane laughs. Luigi’s thick, bushy brows furrow, “what do you suggest then, Dr. Know-it-all?”

“Get the girls to do it.”

“Oh come on,” Luigi sighs, “I don’t want them to be uncomfortable.” Lane sighs, “they’re not gonna be uncomfortable. If they like us, anyway… You could ask Y/N..” Lane teases him, smirking and bumping his shoulder.

“We still have an hour or two.” Luigi nods, plenty of time to get painted on by his crush. You.

 So, with their heads held high, the boys walked the campus with their bodies painted blue and red to the dorms where you and your friends stayed. Your roommate was actually dating Lane — you never quite understood that. A knock at the door later, and the girl’s fun get ready for homecoming was crashed with body paint. 

Unfortunately for Lane, he forgot the second bottle of white paint. Your roommate accompanied them back across campus.

The other girls had disappeared, including the last blue-painted boy; leaving you alone with Mangione. You side eye him a moment, he stood awkwardly, rubbing his cracked, painted palms together. He had smuggled the white paint bottle.

You looked so cute to him, your creamy thighs, carefully lined lips and the white skirt with a blue blouse. He could feel himself growing a bit hard. It was embarrassing, you were so pretty and perfect to him, but he was a virgin — contrary to popular belief. He just liked you. He wanted you.

Luigi finally breaks the silence, watching you pull the rollers from your shiny hair. He clears his throat, “uh, Y/N?” His voice was a bit shaky.

“Yes?” You reply, your voice as smooth as honey.

“When you’re done… Would you mind helping me paint my back and uhmm.. The P on my stomach?” Don’t blush, Luigi. 

Oh he’s so cute, he’s so shy asking you, his bunched up curls and tall stance. You shiver at the thought of touching him.

“Sure.” You said simply, not wanting to seem too excited. 

After a bit you finally tended to him. You coated your hands in the paint and slathered it over his boney back. He wasn’t exactly the most buff guy, but he had a normal body for this age. He was really attractive, he wore those slutty gray sweatpants every girl begs her boyfriend to wear.

 In this case, you didn’t ask him, he came to you like that. 

It wasn’t your fault it was so obvious, the gentle outline through the fabric, you avoided looking at it, so he wasn’t weirded out by you. You always knew this guy was packing. Literally. He had you paint down to his waist, his v-line was so prominent.

For Luigi, your hands on him was like being dropped in heaven rather than the gates. He tensed a little at first but your warm palms soothe his occasional aches. He stood with posture and hopeful confidence, he liked you way too much.

“Okay, red’s done.” You state, showing him in the bathroom mirror as you wash it off your palms. “Looks great.” He says, you ended up using a blow dryer to get it dry faster. He had to sit down on the couch for a few, you did too. All that work plus doing your hair prior was tiring.

He looks over at you, his freckles show overlaying blush and his beauty marks are so perfectly placed on each cheek.

“What is it?” You questioned, wanting to know why he was staring so hard. He freezes and stares more, like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I…I think you’re really pretty.” His cheeky, little crooked smile. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Thank you, Luigi.”

“O-of course.”

You smile warmly and tip your head back, looking up at the ceiling a moment, then he speaks up, his voice cracks. “I like you.” God, he was nervous.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“I like you too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” 

He silently cheered and ran a lap around, celebrating in his mind, but outside he nodded and looked at you as though you’re the only girl to ever exist in this world. “I really like that skirt of yours too.” He blurts.

“Yeah?” You chuckle.

“Yeah..” He bit his lip subconsciously and looks down at your thighs, pressed together and pressed to the cushion, he was almost jealous the couch could be sat on by you. He wanted to kiss up your legs and praise every part of your body, and let himself get lost in his sexual desires for you, he wanted-

“My eyes are up here, Lu.” You smile. His hazel irises dart up, his cheeks impossibly turn more pink, and he starts to get cocky.

“They are," he says quietly. “I wanna look down here though.” He continued. Something changed, like the quiet, nervous atmosphere had shifted into an undeniable need, longing and prayers that it would evolve into something soon before one of you lost it.

You stood to get the white paint from the table, but Lu grabbed your hand and stopped you abruptly. “Luigi?”

“C’mere.” He whispers, pulling you down on his lap, somehow, at some point there was a spurt of confidence in him that shone like a star now. “Lu-“ 

“Shhh.” He says, looking at your body in his hands, although clothed he can only imagine what lies beneath it. He blinks, then reaches for your breasts. He looks for reassurance, once you nod he’s practically a goner. His large, slender fingers are groping and squeezing your boobs, so gently yet possessively in a way you liked. 

“You’re s-so..” Words are uncomprehending in his brain, all he thinks and sees is lust. He leans forward and kisses between your collarbones. Slowly up your throat, stopping at your jaw. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I need you so badly, Y/N.” He murmurs, looking at you greedily. 

With a tug, he popped open the buttons on your lace blouse, you were never one to wear a bra underneath a top like this — so when he was met with bare breasts, he almost frothed at the mouth. It took a moment before he gazes between your face and boobs, you nod; and he’s gone. Again.

His kiss was tender and he only suckled for so long before nursing the other breast, kneading one softly, then switching off. It felt so intimate, yet so sweet coming from him. You could only moan, letting your fingers curl up in his hair.

Then he cupped your ass, squeezing the flesh and all he felt was the dampened fabric of your panties under the skirt. His eyes meet yours like a needy puppy’s. “You want me…?” He asks, in a state of disbelief that this was real. 

“I do.”

He fidgets for a moment, he wanted to tell you, but you had an idea. To try something different but equally pleasurable for yourself, he had no clue what you were doing until you were doing it. Softly, you straddled one of his thighs and began moving your aching need against it. He watched in awe, his cock was getting harder from the warmth, the fabric friction and your sounds. The sounds…

He exhaled, holding you in place, he nudged his thigh forward, causing a gasp to escape you. Each second grew more needful for both of you, he was so turned on he couldn’t think straight. “Lu,” you moan, and moan. Gently dry humping his thigh, it was so tender. You were so wet you left a small stain on the thigh of his sweatpants.

He was desperate and being a virgin in this state, he needed something more. Luigi grabs your hips and moves you directly on his erection. He leans so he is almost laying back, with you on top, he encourages you to keep moving.

You do.

You humped him through the sweats, his hardness rubbing against you in all of the right ways, your eyes flutter and you can feel how desperate you’re getting to have him inside you. Luigi could barely handle it, he was whiny, enjoying the view of you rubbing against his tented pants. Every now and then he’d buck up against you…

It became too much, he was guiding your hips, making sure you felt him against your pussy and ass — he groaned, feeling the twitch in his pants become more consistent until you moved so much he panted, begging you. A warmth spread against your panties and you lifted up, glancing down to find Luigi came right there in his briefs and sweats. It was a little endearing to see the male’s cum in that place. He blushes profusely, looking at you with embarrassment. “S-sorry.”

“For what?” “I came too fast.” He whispered. “I don’t think so.” You laugh softly, gazing at the mess you made of him. You turn to face him and lean over, planting your first big kiss on his lips. He moans and cups your face, kissing you sloppily for a long moment. His tongue slipped in your mouth, mapping out, wanting to remember every detail of you.

“I want you.” Your voice rang in the air. “I want you too. Bad.” He pants, then debates — “But uhm… I’m a virgin.”

You grin, pinching his cheek softly. “Oh, Lu, you think that’ll stop me?” He gushes. You tug him up from the couch, then grab the paint bottle and head back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind the both of you.

One hour to gametime.

Your fingers moved across his abdomen and lower chest, tracing the letter P, he was so shaky and sensitive still from cumming in his pants — it didn’t help he couldn’t clean that up yet either. You took extra time and care to paint him right and once done, you teasingly wiped your paint-covered thumb over his dick in the sweats.

He whined, looking down at you, there was no hiding that! “Y-Y/N..” He cooed. Just that action made his member twitch with arousal and life again. “Yes?” Weak, Luigi was so weak to you. He kissed your neck as you cleaned the white paint from your fingertips, “p-please.” 

“Please, what?” You ask, looking at him as he shifts on his feet.

“Please… I need you to fuck me.”

“You’re sure you want me to be your first?” 

“Positive. That's all I want.. I want you, Y/N. Please.”

From confident to straight up begging to be inside you.

You finally cave in, and the poor thing was so inexperienced, but he wanted to do the work. He only wanted to please you. Following instructions, he shimmied your panties down from under your skirt and showed off your breasts again. All in the mirror. The counter was just the right height and he could bend you over it. You stayed there, letting him get himself ready, you told him, “do what feels right, don’t rush yourself.” He nodded and carefully went a step at a time, you arched a bit and he ran his large palms over your ass. Then he pushed down his sweats and briefs, his erection was almost worse than the one before.

Luigi gently stroked himself, shakily groaning as he stood straight, adjusted your hip and aligned himself, “there we go, don’t be shy.” You say calmly. He gently poked your entrance with his tip, rubbed a bit as you wanted. He was packing — just a lot more than you expected. His tip alone felt so big and he wasn’t even inside you.

“Slowly, now..”  He makes sure he’s still aligned right and gently uses his hand to guide his dick’s head into you. He watched you in the mirror. You gasp, not expecting that at all.

“Holy shit… o-okay..” You mumble, “Like I said, do what feels right.. okay?” Luigi nodded, feeling that confident cockiness coming back as he slowly pushed his length inside you, officially and fully, no longer a virgin. His face contorted, brows furrowed, he looks at your ass from this angle, the way your breasts spill out of the blouse.

He let you adjust to his size – more or so, he had to adjust to your slick tightness — he really had to focus here. All he could think of right now was how your pussy felt like heaven.

A flicker of need, and he began pushing in, pulling out, repetitively. You moaned, he did too, enjoying the feel. He got the swing of it pretty quick and ol’ sweet, nerdy Luigi was a little addict after five minutes. His hips slapped into your rear, filling the bathroom with pleasure and his length completely stretched you.

Two desperate souls, desiring. Joined together in passionate lovemaking. Luigi loved how your breasts bounced back n’ forth when he thrusted into you — how you moaned, your eyes shut and rolled back, all of it in the reflection for him to take in. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum.” He growls into your ear, kissing your neck as he brushes your hair aside.

“Okay.” You hum, he glances at you in the mirror. “I can pull out-“

“Don’t you dare.” You smiled slyly, cutting him off. Luigi blushed, confused, but not stopping his thrusts. “Are you sure…?”

“Yes.”

He was hesitant but fuck, he loses his virginity to you and he gets to cum inside you? Double win for him.

His movements became sloppy and erratic, needy and quick. You were a squirming, writhing mess — especially when he curiously reached under you and began rubbing at your clit. For someone with zero experience he found it quick. It made you whine, it made him feel so empowered for that moment…

“Lu, I’m gonna..” You pant, your back arching against him. He leans you up and cups around your ribs, holding you steadily so he can just thrust faster, it was a change but it felt amazing.

He made you really cry out in pleasure, your walls clung to him like a last lifeline and he groaned deeply, using it to his advantage to get off. He moved faster, despite your overwhelming orgasm, overstimulating you by continuously rubbing at your nub and nipping your neck, “You’re so fucking sexy.” He whispers, you had no clue where his sudden spark came from to be dominant, but you loved it.

Not even a full minute later, you felt him cum inside you – something you both probably shouldn’t have done but gosh, it was so worth it watching him collapse on your back, heaving and planting soft kisses on your shoulder. “That was amazing, God, Y/N, I love you.” He paused, blushing more when he realizes what he’s admitted out loud; but your expression says it all. 

“I love you too.”

The both of you cleaned up, you fixed his painted body (and had to change clothes yourself, since some bits that didn’t dry, got all over you.) Thankfully Luigi had a spare pair of sweatpants, stretchy, black fabric. “Hold on, I gotta redo it now,” you smile. Although it meant ruining your makeup, you got the paint on your lips and pressed a kiss against the sweatpants, just over his dick.

“Huh – oh.” Luigi moans as you do so, he flushes and watches you. His heartbeat was quick and he felt so giddy. Gosh, he loved your touch. Then Lane and your roommate returned, he had the ‘E’ painted on his stomach. Now everyone was ready to head out and enjoy homecoming.

It was fun, Luigi and his friends walked together, but of course Lane’s observant eyes glinted. “You have fun Luigi?” He smirks. “What are you talking about?” Luigi responds. “C’mon, I know you had sex with her.”

“What? How?”

Lane pointed at his sweatpants, which he quickly remembered that your lips marked. He rubs his neck nervously and smiles. “So, you finally lost it?” Lane bumps their elbows. Luigi gazed at you, at your smile – laughing with your girl friends. He felt a sense of pride when you look back at him, his stomach flutters. 

It also didn't help you had a big red handprint from Luigi's palm-covered hands on your lower butt cheek, which if you walked a certain way, was completely visible in that skirt. Luigi smiled, because he did that.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

TAGS: @vershautece @iinfinitelimits (lmk if u want to be added!)

you’re welcome

Cause I can't stop thinking about this man in a suit, and then ZZ Top comes on and now I'm just a mess. Someone send help, and by help I mean him. Send me him in a suit and I'll die happy.

too good for me - luigi mangione x reader

based on this request, thank you so much for sending in your idea anon, i really enjoyed writing this, i hope you enjoy it <333

the car ride to your parents’ house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional tap of your fingers against the window. luigi glances over at you, his hands steady on the wheel, his expression calm but concerned. you’re fidgeting, something you only do when your anxiety is spiking. your knee bounces, your nails pick at the hem of your dress, and your breathing is just a little too shallow.

“hey,” he says softly, reaching over to take your hand. his touch is warm, grounding. “talk to me.”

you exhale sharply, your shoulders slumping. “i just… i don’t know why i’m so nervous. you’re you. you’re perfect. you’re going to walk in there, and they’re going to love you, and then they’re going to wonder why someone like you is with someone like me.”

luigi frowns, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “stop that. you’re not ‘someone like you.’ you’re you. and i’m with you because you’re kind, smart, funny, and you make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world. got it?”

you nod, but the tension in your jaw doesn’t ease. “i just… i know how they are. they’re going to compare us. they’re going to say something about how you went to UPenn and i went to community college, or how you come from this perfect family and i’m just… me.”

luigi pulls the car into the driveway and puts it in park before turning to face you fully. “listen to me. whatever they say, it doesn’t change how i feel about you. and if they say anything that hurts you, i’ve got your back. always. okay?”

you manage a small smile, squeezing his hand. “okay.”

---

the moment you walk through the door, your parents are all smiles—for luigi, at least. your mother hugs him tightly, gushing about how handsome he looks, while your father shakes his hand with a firm grip and a nod of approval. you stand awkwardly to the side, your hands clasped in front of you, feeling like an afterthought.

“luigi, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” your mother says, leading you all into the dining room. “we’ve heard so much about you. UPenn, right? such an impressive school.”

“yes, ma’am,” luigi says politely, though his eyes flick to you, checking on you. you give him a small nod, trying to reassure him you’re okay.

---

dinner starts off well enough. your parents ask luigi about his job, his family, his plans for the future. he answers everything with ease, his charm disarming even your father’s usual stoicism. but then, as the conversation shifts, the comments start.

“you know, luigi, we always hoped our daughter would follow in your footsteps,” your mother says, sipping her wine. “an ivy league school, a high-powered career… but i guess community college was more her speed.”

you freeze, your fork hovering over your plate. your chest tightens, and you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. before you can respond, luigi speaks up.

“actually,” he says, his tone light but firm, “i think it’s incredible that she went to community college. she worked full-time while getting her degree, and she’s one of the hardest-working people i know. not everyone has the same opportunities, but she’s made the most of hers. i admire that about her.”

your mother blinks, caught off guard, but your father chuckles. “well, i suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

---

the rest of the meal continues with similar backhanded comments, each one making you shrink a little more into your seat. luigi, however, never lets it slide. he defends you without being confrontational, his hand resting on your leg under the table, a silent reminder that he’s there.

when your father excuses himself to use the bathroom and your mother goes to check on dessert, luigi turns to you. “let’s get some air,” he says, standing and offering you his hand.

you follow him to the porch, the cool night air a relief after the stifling tension inside. he leans against the railing, looking at you with those kind, steady eyes.

“you okay?” he asks.

you shake your head, tears welling up. “i’m sorry. i knew this would happen. i just… i hate that they do this. i hate that they make me feel like i’m not enough.”

luigi steps closer, cupping your face in his hands. “you are enough. more than enough. their opinions don’t define you. you’re smart, capable, and kind, and i’m so proud to be with you. don’t let them get in your head.”

you nod, leaning into his touch. “thank you. for standing up for me. for… everything.”

he smiles, brushing a tear from your cheek. “always. now, let’s get through the rest of this dinner, and then i’m taking you out for ice cream. deal?”

you laugh softly, the weight on your chest lifting just a little. “deal.”

---

as you walk back inside, hand in hand, you feel a flicker of hope. maybe, just maybe, you can start to believe that you’re enough—not because of what your parents think, but because of the way luigi looks at you, like you’re the most important person in the world.

and for the first time in a long time, you start to believe it too.

---

the rest of the evening passes in a blur. your parents continue to make their subtle jabs, but with luigi by your side, they don’t cut as deep. he’s your shield, your anchor, and by the time dessert is served, you’re feeling more like yourself again.

as you all sit down with coffee and cake, your mother turns to luigi with a smile. “so, luigi, do you see yourself settling down soon? maybe starting a family?”

you nearly choke on your coffee, but luigi just smiles, his hand finding yours under the table. “when the time is right, absolutely. but for now, i’m just focused on making sure this one here knows how amazing she is.”

your mother’s smile falters for a moment, but she quickly recovers. “well, that’s… very sweet of you.”

your father clears his throat, changing the subject, and the conversation moves on. but you can’t stop the warmth spreading through your chest. luigi’s words, his unwavering support, they mean more to you than you can ever express.

---

when it’s finally time to leave, your parents see you to the door. your mother gives luigi another hug, while your father shakes his hand again. “take care of our girl,” your father says, his tone more serious than before.

“always,” luigi replies, his voice firm.

as you step out into the night, the cool air wrapping around you like a blanket, you feel a sense of relief. the evening wasn’t perfect, but you made it through. and with luigi by your side, you know you can handle anything.

he opens the car door for you, and as you slide into the passenger seat, he leans in, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “you did great,” he murmurs.

you smile up at him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

he grins, his eyes sparkling. “that’s what i’m here for. now, let’s get that ice cream.”

as he starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, you glance back at the house one last time. for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace. your parents’ opinions will always sting, but with lu by your side, you know you’re enough. and that’s all that matters.

Reader and Luigi basically being the old married couple of the group. A newcomer finds out that they aren’t actually together and it feels like breaking news because it’s basically assumed by most that they’re together. Maybe it isn’t until one of them starts getting actively pursued by someone else when it starts clicking why it makes them uncomfortable at the idea. Trying to leave this open ended for you.

The Jester’s Fucking the King — {Luigi x Reader }

Content: I’m gonna call this one NSFW— MDNI, friends to lovers, confusing feelings, Luigi has a physical touch fixation, you’re his fidget toy, fr tho, emotional manipulation lowkey, just a pinch (if you squint) of dirty talk, kinda love triangle

Wc: 3,458

Notes: yourself and Luigi have been Inseparable for six years, and the introduction of a new friend into the group throws a wrench into everything.

Before we start, I wanna make a quick note about the title, and where the hell it came from (lol). I was inspired by a tumblr post I came across awhile ago, and it stuck with me, I guess, because I randomly thought of it while I was writing this. That’s all. Enjoy xo

I took this and ran with it.

As usual.

"Who's this guy that she's bringing again?" you ask to the car at large, slumped in the backseat between your roommate Scarlett and the window. Your thumb swipes across your phone screen, watching Chloe’s location dot inch its way across the map while Luigi maneuvers through traffic and Ben fidgets with the radio from the passenger seat.

"I dunno, some guy she met in her new sculpture class this semester," Luigi mumbles through a barely-concealed grimace. The thought of adding another person to their carefully balanced social ecosystem clearly weighs on him. You know he's already mentally rehearsing his nice to meet you smile, the kind that takes more energy than he's willing to spend on a random Tuesday night.

"It'd better not be that kid Cole," you mutter, already dreading the possibility.

And because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, it was absolutely, undeniably, that kid Cole.

It hardly mattered what preconceived notions you’d had about him; they dissolved over time as Chloe started bringing him around more often.

The traits you once found annoying gradually morphed into something oddly endearing.

Still, he never quite seemed to understand the dynamic between you and Luigi.

On movie nights, when the six of you crammed into the living room, a messy sprawl of friends and blankets overtaking the couch and floor, you naturally claimed your usual spot; sprawled out across Luigi’s lap. Tonight was no different. You laid there with your back propped against the arm of the couch, scrolling through Instagram while your bottom half stretched longways over him, as if his lap had always been yours to occupy.

Every so often, you’d interrupt the movie to show him a meme or a video a mutual friend had sent. You’d lean in close, shoulders brushing, stifling your laughter together so as not to disturb the others watching John Wick. “That’s fucked up,” he muttered through a barely-contained chuckle, his eyes still on your phone screen.

Madison lives at home, her daily subway commute to campus a small price to pay for access to her parents' sprawling estate. Their backyard is a mediterranean dream, with a pool large enough to host the entire group of misfits, with room to spare.

You're draped over Luigi as he meanders around the pool's edge, both arms curved naturally around your waist beneath the waster. It's the kind of casual intimacy that comes from years of friendship, comfortable and worn-in. "Cole's actually pretty cool," he muses, tilting his head back expectantly.

You comply with the wordless request, holding the La Croix to his lips so he doesn't have to lift his hands from the water.

"Yeah," you agree, your eyes drifting across the pool to where Cole is pretending not to watch this whole exchange. His gaze darts away the moment yours meets his, like a kid caught stealing. "I really did think he was annoying at first, though."

Scarlett’s birthday party, your arms wrapped around Luigi’s waist, your head tucked beneath his arm as you swayed together and sang happy birthday. The whine as you shared a piece of cake, something about how “Luigi won’t even kiss me in public.” When someone said the two of you would have won prom king and queen if you went to the same high school.

Ben’s party followed just weeks later, the night still young and champagne bubbling through your veins. Luigi's hand clamped desperately over your mouth, but your eyes danced with mischief as you nodded enthusiastically at the circle gathered around you. "Yeah, Lu's got a PhD," you managed to say, and before he could stop you, the words tumbled out against his palm: "A pretty huge dick."

Cole watched.

"Did you know Cassie is seeing Dylan?" Cole asked, matching your frantic pace across campus. The morning fog swallowed your mumbled recitations as you mentally rehearsed your presentation for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, Cole, and I'm fucking Luigi.” you scoffed, the sarcasm dripping over every word like sticky molasses as you rolled your eyes. You yanked open the auditorium doors, disappearing behind them without a backward glance, mind already racing ahead to bullet points and transitions.

The very idea that Cole would believe such obvious campus gossip had you shaking your head as you slid into your seat.

But he did believe it.

He stood frozen in the hallway you'd left him in, staring at the closed doors like they might offer some explanation. "Yeah? I know.” he mumbled to your ghost, the words settling confused and heavy in the empty corridor.

The absolute certainty in his voice would have made you laugh, if you'd been there to hear it.

The seasons had shifted, and with them, Cole's hope had quietly ebbed away. After months of watching you, he'd finally accepted what everyone else seemed to know instinctively — even if Luigi wasn't in the picture, you were simply out of reach.

Saturday night found your usual crew at your claimed table in Madison’s backyard, the surface cluttered with emptied drinks and scattered Uno cards. Luigi absently twisted the rings on your fingers — a mindless habit he'd developed somewhere between freshman year and now — while chaos erupted around you.

The familiar symphony of shouted accusations about who was hiding the Draw Four cards mixed with the glow of phones being passed around, TikToks and screenshots sparking new waves of laughter.

Cole watched the way Luigi's fingers danced over yours, and for the first time, the sight didn't sting quite so much.

“I still can't believe Dylan and Cassie are dating," Cole mused through a cloud of smoke, beer bottle dangling precariously from his left hand while a joint was stuffed between the fingers on his right.

The table fell silent, five pairs of eyes fixing on him with varying degrees of confusion and amusement.

"Who told you that?" Scarlett's voice cut through the stunned silence and the resurrection of a dead and gone campus rumor, her phone screen illuminating her face as Dylan's name flashed across it. "Where did you even hear that?"

Cole's eyes pinballed around the table, finally landing on you and Luigi.

Your hand was caught in one of Luigi's absent-minded gestures, knuckles pressed against his lips while he listened — a habit so commonplace to everyone else that they'd stopped noticing years ago. "Uh— wait—" Cole fumbled, taking a desperate pull from the joint as if the answer might be hiding in the smoke. He passed it to his left and asked through a cough, "Are they not?"

“No, you idiot.” Scarlett threw a lighter at him, which he narrowly dodged.

"Well- why did- “Cole's words stumbled over each other as he locked eyes with you across the table. Your brows knitted together, genuinely bewildered by his desperation. "I- you said they were," he insisted, hand gesturing vaguely in your direction like a drowning man reaching for a life raft.

Scarlett's head whipped toward you so fast her earrings clinked, a new lighter in her hand that was suddenly transformed into a weapon of interrogation, the flame pointed in your direction. "You what?"

"I didn't say that!" Your hands flew up defensively, face flushing as you ransacked your memory for any conversation that could've led to this moment.

But your mind offered nothing but static.

"I asked you if you could believe they were- and-“Cole gestured helplessly at Luigi, who was studying your profile with the intense focus of someone who'd stopped processing verbal language three hits ago. His fingers hadn't stopped their absent dance with your rings once you lowered your hands again from your surrender to Scarlett’s mercy, muscle memory outlasting coherent thought.

Cole felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate dimension where everyone spoke a language he'd never learned while those same pairs of eyes dissected him with the kind of judgment only drunk twenty-somethings could muster, making him feel about two inches tall. "And you said 'yeah, and I'm fucking Luigi,'" he defended weakly, the words sounding more ridiculous with each passing second.

"Yeah!" You practically launched across the table, laughter threatening to bubble over as understanding finally dawned. "Because I'm not!" The force of your declaration nearly knocked over someone's beer, but you were too busy watching Cole's face transform as the shoe finally, finally dropped.

Luigi, for his part, just kept twisting your rings, lost somewhere between the fourth dimension and your knuckles.

Cole's jaw went slack, his eyes darting around the table again where this time everyone had suddenly developed an acute interest in hiding their smirks behind their hands — a masterclass in delayed politeness. "What?" He practically shoved the joint away when it circled back, as if too-late sobriety might make this make more sense. "But- but the dick size jokes and- and you tell everyone he won't kiss you in public."

"Oh, you poor thing." Chloe dabbed at her eyes, tears of mirth threatening to ruin her mascara. "She's always done that shit." The words came out half-strangled by suppressed laughter.

Months passed, and Cole transformed into your personal guardian angel. One desperate NEED SUGAR NOW OR DEATH text to the group chat, and he'd materialize with your favorite convenience store candy before anyone else had even read the message.

He collected details about you: the way your nose scrunched at certain perfumes, how you could quote every line from that one movie, the specific shade of purple that made your eyes light up. When he finally told you he liked you — really liked you, more than he'd ever liked anyone — you said you liked him too.

The gravitational shift was subtle at first — like planets realigning. Your usual perch in Luigi's lap gradually migrated to the chair beside Cole, a transition so natural that few noticed, not even you.

It came to a head one Saturday when Luigi texted his absence from movie night, claiming a sudden illness.

The excuse was paper-thin, and you both knew it.

You stood outside his building, jabbing the buzzer with the familiarity of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. "I know you're not sick, Luigi." Your voice crackled through the intercom, bouncing off the walls of his apartment where he lay curled into himself on the sofa, rigid as rigor mortis. "I can see your Oura ring stats." The betrayal of technology made him groan, and the offending ring went sailing across the room, a tiny meteor of exposed lies.

His father knows the developer.

That's the only reason he'd agreed to wear the damn thing — a circular shackle of obligations that now betrayed him from somewhere under his coffee table.

Your finger finds the buzzer again, gentler this time.

"C'mon, bub. I miss you." The sweetness in your voice hits him like a sucker punch, memories of simpler times wrapped in those words. "It can be me and you tonight. We can have a bestie night." The offer dangles like a Time Machine to the past — back when your world was just two planets in perfect orbit, before it expanded into a solar system of friends.

Before Cole ever came around.

Luigi appears in the doorway like a ghost, just as you're about to admit defeat. Your face splits into a grin, but it falters when you really look at him. "God." Your eyes track the sharp edges of his collarbones beneath his shirt. "Have you been eating?" The question trails behind you as you follow him up the familiar path to the second floor.

The apartment feels wrong — like walking into a black and white version of a color photograph you know by heart. Every blind drawn tight against the afternoon sun, as if he's been developing emotional negatives in the dark. "Hey, what's going on?" Your fingers find his forearm, anchoring him before he can drift away again. "This is kinda giving me flashbacks to when you failed your final."

He flinches like you've pressed on a bruise, eyes scanning his self-made darkness as if seeing it for the first time - the familiar choreography of his pain laid bare by your observation. "This definitely feels different from that." His voice comes out hollow, each word carefully chosen to dance around the real issue.

"Better, or worse?"

"I don't know."

He sinks back into his spot on the couch, the oversized blanket making him look smaller than you've ever seen him. His eyes fix on the half-finished Lego set on his coffee table — the Millennium Falcon he'd started weeks ago, now collecting dust mid-construction.

Three hundred pieces still sealed in their bags, waiting.

"Is it your mom?" you try, but Luigi shakes his head. "Is it school?" Another head shake. "Work?" No. "Was it your aunt Lisa again? That bitch—" He cuts you off with another shake. "Is it me?"

The question hangs there, and Luigi pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, refusing to meet your eyes.

He lets out a long breath, knowing he's trapped himself here — in this moment, in this conversation, in this truth he's been avoiding.

No way out.

"What?" You cross the room in three quick strides, dropping beside him and tugging at the blanket he's using as camouflage. "What do you mean, Lu? C'mon." Your hands search for any part of him that isn't wrapped in fleece, but he's determined to stay hidden. "What did I do?"

Luigi's eyes catch yours for a fraction of a second before darting away. "I really just want to sleep." The words come out muffled as he tries to fold himself smaller, but you're faster, yanking the blanket down before he can disappear completely. "Please."

"Luigi.” Your voice cracks, and you don't try to hide it. You've never had to beg him for anything before, not in all your years of friendship. "I can't leave knowing you're upset with me." It's the rawest truth you have, stripped down to its bare bones on the couch cushions between you. "Come on. Talk to me."

The silence grows so thick you could suffocate in it, until Luigi finally breaks it with a mumble. "How come you only make jokes about fucking me?" His throat works visibly before he adds, "And not anyone else?"

The question hits you like a slap. Your eyes drift across his coffee table, taking inventory — the joint still smoldering in the ashtray, his anti-anxiety meds beside it, a forgotten Gatorade from the night before.

Everything a testament to hours spent alone with his thoughts.

You drag in a deep breath, searching for words you've never had to examine before. "I mean — that's what we do, you know-"

"No," he cuts you off, voice sharpened. "It's what you do."

"Lu." Your spine straightens as confusion settles in. "Why is this suddenly an issue? I've always- I've always made those kind of jokes about us. How everyone thinks we're dating all the time." You stretch yourself forward, trying to catch his eye, but he keeps his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. "I just lean into it, I guess. I didn't know it bothered you."

He sighs, the sound muffled as he drags his hands down his face. "It doesn't bother me."

"Then," frustration bleeds into your voice as you throw your hands up, lost in whatever conversation he's having three steps ahead of you. "What do you fucking mean?"

"I- I mean-" His tongue clicks against his teeth, each word coming slow like he's translating from another language. "It doesn't bother me in that way."

"In what way?"

"In the way that means you saying you'd fuck me bothers me."

"But you just said it bothers you."

"No,” he says, “I didn't."

Heat rises up your neck as your patience frays.

Your mind twists itself into knots trying to decode whatever puzzle he's laying out between you. "Look at me." The command comes out sharper than intended as you try to yank the blanket away from him. "Fucking look at me!"

The blanket rips from your hands with unexpected force, sending you sprawling onto his hardwood floor. Your oversized sweater is the only thing saving your tailbone from a bruising. "You fucking asshole." The words come out hot as you fumble for your boots to put over the socks that betrayed you in their slipperiness, and just as you manage to wrangle one on, Luigi emerges from his cocoon, fixing you with a look that stops you cold.

"I mean I guess-“ He clears his throat, looking down at you with that familiar steady gaze, but there's something different layered over it now, something raw. "I mean- Why wouldn't you fuck me?"

The question hits like a fist to the cheekbones.

You freeze, one boot half-laced, mouth hanging open as heat floods you to your temples.

Of all the directions this could have gone, you never expected this brand of brutal honesty, delivered while you're sprawled ungracefully on his living room floor and wrestling with your shoelaces.

Your eyes dart between the coffee table and his face, pieces clicking together with nauseating clarity. "What kind of question is that?" The words come out sharp as your fingers hook uselessly around your boot laces.

"Well, what kind of joke is it to go around telling everyone we fuck?" He throws your logic back at you with devastating precision. "What's so funny about that?"

You bury your face in your hands, a groan muffled against your palms. Every memory floods back at once — all those times he tried to stop you from making dick jokes, all those moments people assumed you were dating and you played it up while he went quiet.

Six years of friendship viewed through this new lens makes your stomach lurch, and another heavy sigh tears from your chest.

"Can you at least tell me?" Luigi's voice comes out barely above a whisper, watching you curled up on his floor like a wounded animal.

You finally lift your head, meeting his stare head-on. "Do you want me to say I'd fuck you?"

The silence wraps around you both like a physical thing, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as color floods his cheeks. "Huh?" You arch an eyebrow, challenging. "Want me to say how hard I'd do it?" Your discarded boot connects with his shin. "How I know you whimper."

As if on cue, a small sound escapes him — half whine, half breath. He's still staring at you like you've knocked all the air from his lungs, struck speechless while you press your newfound advantage.

You move closer, settling between his knees as the blanket slips from his shoulders. With gentle pressure, you ease him back against the couch. "Want me to tell you how none of it was ever really a joke?" Your hand rests against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath your palm. "How every time that you felt me push my ass against your dick wasn’t just your imagination?”

Luigi reaches for you then, fingers trembling as they find your skin — reverent and careful. He's always been tactile with you, always finding excuses to be close. He knows the map of your hands better than you do, how your breathing changes when you drift to sleep, all the little things that make you who you are. "I knew it," he whispers as you settle against him, both of you finally exactly where you're meant to be.

You'd spent so long pushing these thoughts away, rationalizing every touch as just his nature — absent patterns traced on your skin during movies, fingers intertwined during conversations, gentle pressure points mapped across your arms during lengthy lectures.

Each gesture filed away as mindless habit.

But this was different. Every point of contact now carried weight, intention.

"I'd fuck you too," Luigi murmurs, drawing you closer, face pressed against your sweater. His hands spread warm and steady across your back, holding you like something precious, something he's afraid might slip away. “And I’d whine as much as you wanted.”

The next week comes floating by once again, Cole hurrying beside you as you rush to your next lecture, desperately trying to untangle your earbuds, hearing Luigi’s voice echo in your mind, laughing at you for your resistance toward Bluetooth devices. “I - I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to-“

“I’m fucking Luigi.” You turn to Cole, your expression deadpan but fixed, serious but not all that concerned before the doors of the auditorium are flung open, and once again, you vanish behind them.

Cole bursts into a fit of giggles at the thought, realizing now that believing such a thing would be mean he was naive — he’s since learned from his mistakes. “Yeah.” He murmurs to himself, “And Cassie and Dylan are still dating.”

weak for you

summary: after you send luigi a soapy titty pic, he decides to jerk off to it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

luigi’s phone buzzes against the nightstand, the soft vibration cutting through the heavy silence of his hotel room. he barely hesitates before reaching for it, already hoping it’s from you.

and sure enough, your name glows on the screen, followed by a message that makes his heart ache in the best and worst way.

you: i miss u :(( can’t wait for u to come home tomorrow ❤️

he misses you too. hes been away from you for about a week now, away on a work trip that he didn’t even want to go on in the first place, all shacked up in a shitty, overpriced hotel room bed. it’s too cold without you. too empty. too unfamiliar. he’s used to your warmth, the way you curl into his chest, the way you fit so perfectly against him. now, when he reaches out at night, all he can find is cold sheets and silence. and he hates it. thank god he’s able to come home to you sooner rather than later.

his fingers move quickly as he types back.

luigi: miss you too, can’t wait to see you tomorrow baby

luigi: what are you doing right now? :)

a few seconds pass before another buzz.

you: just got out of the shower :) <3

he shifts uncomfortably in bed, running a hand down his face as his mind betrays him. the thought of you, fresh out of the shower, skin warm and dewy, hair damp as you wrap your warm body in a towel sticks in his head like a dream he can’t shake.

he’s suddenly hyper aware of just how how hard his cock is getting, shielded underneath his boxers. he sucks in a sharp breath, forcing himself to think, to type out a response, but it’s impossible when all he can focus on is thought of you, all naked and beautiful.

luigi: oh yeah? can i see? ;)

just a few minutes later…

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you’re an evil, evil woman.

that’s the first thought that crosses luigi’s mind as he stares at his phone screen, jaw slack, fingers frozen over the keyboard like his brain just turned to mush.

you were beautiful, that much he knew. but in the photo you just sent him? he doesn’t know the right word to adequately describe just how you look now.

there you were, your breasts smothered in delicate, frothy trails of soap, pearlescent in the dim bathroom light. remnants of warm water made everything look impossibly soft, almost unreal.

hes always loved your breasts, sometimes he thinks that the universe made them just for him. they’re soft, and fit perfectly in his hands. they make perfect pillows too. if luigi could choose when he was to die, he’d choose to die wrapped up in your arms, head burrowed against your breasts like a baby, while you caressed his curls, lulling him.

but the more he stares at the picture you sent him, the more he realises that he can’t ignore the throbbing problem in his pants.

he can’t help it, he reaches down and frees himself from his boxers, feeling the cold air of the hotel room pierce against him, and begins to stroke himself slowly while staring at the picture of you on his phone.

he lets out a soft whimper and leans his head back against the pillow, holding the picture up in the air. his mind begins to exhibit various scenarios to him, one being laying next to you in bed, his head resting against your chest, his mouth feeding from your breast while you stroke his cock with one hand, while threading your fingers through his hair with the other.

he wishes it was your hand stroking him instead of his own.

his mind also shows him bending you over the kitchen table and absolutely wrecking you, dominating you. he has your hair in a makeshift ponytail, and he’s rutting his hips into you so desperately while you scream and beg for more. his free hand repeatedly lands harshly on your ass, leaving behind scarlet marks and making it sting.

luigi has always loved fucking you from behind.

he strokes his cock faster, it now being red from the over exertion.

“feels so good baby, yeah…” he whimpers, letting out a breathy moan as the intense burning in his stomach slowly begins to get bigger, more intense.

then, he gets an idea.

he’s still holding his phone with his left hand, so he presses the X button on the top right corner of the photo you sent, and taps the microphone to record a voice message, all whilst still fucking himself with his free hand.

he lets loose. all you’ll hear when you receive it will be the obscene sounds of profanities, moans, and whimpers. but he doesn’t care, he wants you to hear how weak he is for you.

he hits send.

“shit.” he moans, his cock tingling, the coil in his stomach so close to snapping. he stares intently at his phone, awaiting a response from you as he fucks himself all the way to the edge.

letting out a final noise of satisfaction, his toes curl and he finally hits his climax, spilling hot white ribbons of his seed all over himself as he whimpers your name like a prayer.

he’s coming down from his high, thinking that hes finally satisfied, until three dots pop up on his phone screen. snapping him back to reality.

you’re typing. that means you’ve listened to what he sent you. you’ve heard him.

his phone buzzes twice, followed by your two messages flashing on the screen.

you: i love you baby

you: facetime me now ;)

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

this is so fucking rushed… and it’s the first time i’ve ever written anything smutty too omg forgive me

previous work

Hola, acabo de publicar una nueva historia "Cenizas de un amor". Espero que les guste mucho y le den una oportunidad muchas gracias. ✨https://www.wattpad.com/story/375784597-cenizas-de-un-amor?utm_source=web

boyfriend!hotch

drunkenly confessing your feelings for lu over voicemail…

You’re drunk. Very drunk. And despite every logical part of your brain telling you not to, you call your best friend Luigi.

He doesn’t pick up, so you leave a voicemail.

“Luuuigi…” You drag out his name like a secret, slurred at the edges. “M’drunk… and I like you. A lot. A lot a lot a lot.” You hiccup, giggling to yourself. “That’s a secret, though. But I can’t keep it a secret anymore. Like… more than a friends way.” A dreamy sigh escapes you. “Love you… Anyway, byeeee.”

And with that, you hang up, completely oblivious to the chaos you’ve just unleashed.

Luigi runs a hand through his curls as he listens to your voicemail, standing frozen in the dim glow of his phone screen.

His first reaction? A sharp inhale, his pulse quickening. His second? A hand over his mouth as he exhales a slow, steady breath, trying to suppress the smirk pulling at his lips.

Of all the ways he imagined this happening—if it ever did—this wasn’t one of them.

He calls you. No answer.

He texts you. No reply.

His stomach twists. Drunk. Alone. And you just confessed to him like it was nothing more than a casual remark.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s knocking on your door.

“Come iinnn…” your groggy voice calls out.

Luigi steps inside, his sharp hazel eyes scanning the room. You’re sprawled on the couch, one arm draped dramatically over your forehead like a tragic damsel from an old film.

You blink up at him, confusion flickering across your face. “Luigi? Why are you here?”

His lips part, then press into a thin line as he exhales through his nose. He shifts his weight, pushing a hand through his curls. “You called me,” he says, then adds, almost hesitantly, “…said some other things.”

You squint. “Did I?” Then, suddenly, you burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your whole body. “Guess I forgot.”

He watches you, one brow arching. “Clearly.”

You stretch like a cat, then pout up at him. “You always get like this when I drink.”

Luigi lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, because you drinking alone and ignoring my texts is exactly what I wanted to deal with tonight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He drops a case of water onto the floor beside the couch. “Because I came prepared.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you seriously—”

“Three bottles every hour,” he informs you matter-of-factly, crouching beside you. “Or at least until you stop acting like a Shakespearean tragedy.”

You groan, letting yourself sink into the cushions. “Ugh, you’re such a nerd.”

“Yeah? Well, this nerd just saved you from a hellish hangover.” He cracks open a bottle, handing it to you. “Drink.”

You do, only because he’s watching you so intently. He leans back on his heels, studying you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing.” His lips twitch. “You’re just really honest when you’re drunk.”

Your stomach flips. “Oh?” You try to sound nonchalant, but it comes out nervous. “Mhm.” He tilts his head slightly. “You sure you don’t remember what you said?”

You shake your head, looking away. “Nope.”

His eyes gleam. “Interesting.”

A flicker of panic sparks in your chest. Did you say something that bad? Did you embarrass yourself beyond repair?

Before you can spiral, exhaustion washes over you, the warmth of alcohol lulling you into drowsiness. You shift, leaning against him, your forehead pressing lightly into his shoulder. “Stay,” you mumble. Luigi tenses slightly before relaxing. His arm curls around you, rubbing slow circles against your back. “Anything you need,” he murmurs, voice softer now. Your fingers brush against his shirt, gripping just slightly. He exhales, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he watches you slip into sleep.

It’s only then that Luigi allows himself to fully process what just happened.

You like him.

A lot.

And now he’s sitting here with you wrapped around him, heart pounding, unable to stop himself from smoothing his fingers through your hair.

“You gave me a scare, you know,” he mutters to your sleeping form. “But I guess you’re full of surprises.” His gaze lingers on you, his usual sharp and teasing expression softening. Then, eventually, he lets himself fall asleep, too.

When you wake up, everything is… warm.

Too warm.

Your cheek is pressed against something firm, your legs tangled with someone else’s. And—oh god—your hand is resting dangerously close to…

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you lift your head, blinking the sleep from your eyes.

Luigi.

Luigi, who is currently knocked out beneath you, looking entirely too peaceful, his usually strong features relaxed in slumber.

You stare.

Oh.

Oh no.

Did you—?

Your eyes dart to your clothes. Still on. Okay. That’s… good? Bad? Your head is pounding too much to tell.

Before you can overthink it, a deep, groggy voice cuts through the silence.

“Enjoying the view?”

Your whole body jerks.

Luigi’s eyes are barely open, but there’s a smug curve to his lips, amusement laced through his sleep-heavy tone.

You sputter. “I—! No—! I—”

He chuckles, stretching with a slow, lazy elegance. His hand lifts to rub at his face, then he peers at you with an unreadable expression.

Then, in a voice far too casual for the situation, he says, “I like you.”

Your brain stalls.

“Like…” You squint. “Like, like-like?”

He smirks. “What are we, twelve?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. “Wait.” A sudden realization dawns. “Did I say something last night?”

Luigi leans in, eyes dark with mischief. “Nope.”

You narrow your eyes. “…Liar.”

His smirk grows.

Your heart races.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. He immediately pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you. It’s slow and warm, a little uncertain at first, but the way he kisses back—firm, assured, just a hint of teasing—you melt into it.

When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing a little heavier.

“You have work soon,” you murmur, suddenly remembering. Luigi sighs dramatically. “Tragic, really.”

You grin. “What if you were just a teensy bit late?”

He hums, pretending to consider. “And what would I get in return?”

You lean in, letting your lips ghost over his. “Guess you’ll have to stay and find out.”

Luigi lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Tempting.” He stands. Before leaving, he tugs you forward by the wrist, planting one last kiss at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be back later, sweetheart.” His voice is low, promising.

And as you watch him go, you already can’t wait for later.

tag list 🏷️ my loves ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ @cherrysolo @slavicdolls4mangione @iinfinitelimits @poohkie90 @luweegeeswifey @number1yearner @noname123sposts @straw8berry @lavenderbabyyy @littlestl4mb @amoungusbartholo (lmk if u wanna be added or removed xx)

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!