#and tango is emily

[pumpkakin]

team zit corpse bride au?? :o

[bonnix]

♥️+ Springtrap. I think this is an interesting prompt because pining for doesn’t always mean a person. But I mean it like it could y,know

👉👈 do whatever you feel most inspiration for :D

they used to dance

[x] [x]

[velvetjune]

came across Emily Pope dialogue I never heard before :D

[antwuzhere]

….. don’t tempt me

Flower Husbands could be so Corpse Bride coded. If we wanted them to be.

[pathologicalreid]

hazardous materials | s.r.

in which Spencer takes care of you after an accident in the lab

margovember

chemist!reader masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (hurt/comfort) content warnings: chemical burn, lab safety was ignored, first aid, cute banter, tattoos, chemist!reader, kisses word count: 1.24k a/n: every time i write chemist!reader i get bed chem stuck in my head except i've never heard the full song

“Time?” You asked, using the heel of your shoe to slam the door shut once you made your way through. Haphazardly, you dropped your backpack on the ground in front of the coat closet before rushing toward the bedroom.

Spencer was sitting on the couch, a glass of water on the side table and a book in his lap, he glanced over at you when you stopped at the back of the couch to say hi to him, “Forty minutes.” He reached out for your arm, a careful gesture just because he wasn’t ready for you to be out of his view yet, but his hand caught on your forearm.

You hissed at the contact, pulling your arm back and shaking it out, “Tight grip,” you tried to wave it off, but Spencer wasn’t easily convinced.

“I barely touched you,” he said, snapping his book closed and standing up, following you into the bedroom. “Let me see your arm,” he asked, opening the door when you tried to close it behind you.

Spinning on your heel, you shrugged at him, “Not without a warrant,” you told him. Your eyes burned as you begged yourself not to cry at the pain.

Your boyfriend reached out for you again, this time pulling you in by your belt loops, he herded you into the bathroom, holding onto your hips as he beckoned for you to sit on the countertop. The granite was cold even through your jeans, and Spencer took your discomfort as pain as he pulled your shirt off.

You grunted, frowning while he pulled your long sleeve over your head and dropped it in the laundry hamper, “It’s cold,” you grumbled, slouching as Spencer inspected the wound on your forearm. It looked a lot worse now than it had when you left the lab, the burned skin starting to develop a yellowish hue. “I have somewhere to be tonight, you know,” you reminded him.

This would be your second outing with the BAU ladies since you were first introduced to them a few months ago, Garcia had arranged tango lessons, and Emily was meant to be your dance partner. “What did you burn yourself with?” He holds your arm timidly, pinching your wrist between his index and his thumb and eyeing the burn with growing concern.

“Uh,” you hummed, bracing yourself for what is bound to be abject disappointment, “Nitric acid.”

Spencer set your arm down, resting it burnt side up on your thigh while he buried his face in his hands, “Baby,” he said from behind his palms.

When he said it in that tone, it was easily your least favorite nickname. “I didn’t think it was concentrated enough to burn,” you tried to defend yourself, looking down at the obvious mistake you had made. “It must have been mislabeled and no one caught it,” you told him, trying to shrug it off.

Dropping his hands, Spencer resorted to crossing his arms in front of his chest, “A lot of chemicals have been getting mislabeled lately.” It was an accusation, but not toward you, though you tended to be more lenient on lab safety than most of your colleagues.

“I…” You faltered, flexing your fingers and feeling the skin on your arm pull, “Yes, but—”

Spencer shook his head, “No, you have to talk to her.”

The her in question was your grad student, Leslie, who had made a similar mistake with hydrochloric acid last month, also leading to a chemical burn on your arm. You frowned at Spencer, making your expression as pleading as possible in hopes that he’d drop it.

“This can’t keep happening,” Spencer said, “I know you don’t want to make her feel guilty, but maybe she should. Maybe that’s how she learns.”

You furrowed your brows at him, “It wasn’t her fault.” You felt defensive over your lab assistant, knowing that she had asked you to be her thesis advisor made you feel the need to protect her.

He pressed his lips in a thin white line, “It was,” he corrected. “If you don’t say something, I’ll send an email to your boss.”

“Spencer,” you said, shoulders slumped in disappointment and the faint feeling of betrayal.

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer gingerly took your arm back in his hands, “I know that’s your thing around the lab, not wanting to cause trouble. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, but I need you to take care of yourself, and you can’t do that if you keep being so flippant about these ‘accidents.’”

You knew what he was doing, turning it into something you could do for him instead of something you’d do for yourself. “I’ll talk to her on Monday, and I’ll redo the UV spectroscopy on the nitric acid,” you surrendered, giving yourself the weekend to figure out how to broach the topic.

He set your arm down again, opening the cabinets in the bathroom and shuffling through miscellaneous belongings. Between the two of you, you had quite a remarkable collection of first aid, the basket that Spencer pulled off the shelf was intimidating, “Here, hold your arm over the sink,” he instructed, guiding you gently so he could rinse the burn with saline. “Does that hurt?”

“it’s just cold,” you answered, watching him make sure any debris was flushed from the wound.

His head bobbed, setting down the saline container and moving to coat the wound with a panthenol cream, “Were you wearing your hazardous materials pin?”

Your face warmed at his question. The one time you’d been the root cause of a spill, your boss responded by gifting you an enamel pin with the hazardous materials pin, “I was.”

“Maybe it needs to be bigger,” he proposed, filtering through the bin of first aid supplies and hunting for something specific, reading the labels on everything before he put it on the burn.

The corner of your mouth quirked up when you noticed he was trying to lighten the mood, “Or have lights on it,” you offered, imagining a border of LEDs around the pin.

Spencer hummed, finding silver sulphadiazine to cover the wound with, “Now, there’s an idea.”

You laughed breathily, “I could get it tattooed,” you waggled your eyebrows at him. “It would make a nice tramp stamp,” you told him, watching his gentle fingers apply dressings to your wound, securing them as carefully as he can so your skin doesn’t get irritated.

“But then I’d be the only one to see it,” he countered playfully, inspecting his handiwork.

Conceding, you nodded, “Unless the people in the lab get comfortable with a lot of things really fast.”

Softly, Spencer leaned forward and kissed you, “I want to keep an eye on this tonight,” he whispered against your lips. “If it doesn’t get better by the morning I’m taking you to urgent care,” he told you, kissing you again before gathering the first aid wrappings and putting them in the trash can.

He stepped out for a moment, returning with an old Princeton t-shirt of yours. You gingerly pulled it over your head, making sure not to bump your fresh bandages as you did so, “But what about my dance lessons?”

You hopped off of the countertop to be met by Spencer standing right in front of you, his hands placed gently on your waist before he whispered, “I can teach you to tango perfectly fine in the living room.”

[hotchner-edu]

Pandora's Box | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: During a girl's night with the BAU girlies, a game of truth or dare may just be the cause of Aaron's odd behavior.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of the devil's tango

The smell of freshly microwaved popcorn and cheeto puffs clung to the air of Penelope's apartment unit, the ringing of near-delirious laughter complementing the scent.

Emily is laying flat on the floor by Penelope's sofa, hair splayed out as she clutches her stomach. "Oh my god! You did not do that!" She laughs out, tears gathering in her eyes as JJ blushes a little and shrugs.

You four are gathered in the living room, fingers stained from snacking while playing the team's favorite party game— truth or dare. It was the night of the long-awaited girl's night, and you were all practically bouncing off the walls.

"It's not my fault! Anyway!" JJ chuckles and tries to change the topic, turning her head toward you, eyes glimmering in mischief. "Y/N, truth or dare?"

You groan and shovel some popcorn into your mouth. "Truth."

Penelope and Emily giggle in the background, knowing JJ always had some hard hitters when it came to truth or dare.

JJ grins widely and leans forward a bit. "Who in the team would you do seven minutes in heaven with?"

You let out an outraged gasp. "Jennifer Jareau! What are we? In high school?"

The blonde just laughs loudly and grins. "Oh come on! You only hate the question because you're the one that has to answer."

"Exactly." You deadpan jokingly and groan, preparing to answer when Emily interjects.

"And you can't say any of us!"

Frowning, you narrow your eyes at the woman. "Well, I was going to say you."

Emily smirks cheekily and slides her phone toward herself as she sits up, finally recovering from her laughing fit earlier. "I know, but that's cheating."

Huffing, you watch her throw her phone aside somewhere as they all stare at you eagerly. "Geez... okay, fine! Hotch! I'd do seven minutes in heaven with him." You practically shout in faux exasperation.

Penelope squeals and shakes your shoulders as JJ and Emily raise their eyebrows.

"Really?" Emily asks in shock, chuckling and leaning back on her arms.

"Well, yeah. I mean... hello. Are we all going to pretend he's not sexy?" You ask bluntly, inciting another round of squeals from Penelope as she gets ready to endlessly tease you about your admission.

JJ shrugs with a satisfied smile, pleased that you chose to answer so boldly. "Honestly, I thought you'd say Spence."

"Spencer is cute and I love him, but... c'mon. Like I have to restrain myself from slamming my head into my desk every time Hotch raises his voice at someone. And god! Don't get me started on his arms." You gush, playing up your lovestruck tone but being completely honest.

"Easy tiger." JJ mumbles under her breath with an amused smile.

Emily wiggles her eyebrows and grins. "Oh? Come on, don't skimp on the details."

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "You guys are vultures." You say jokingly and throw a piece of popcorn at her.

Penelope munches on a cheeto and shakes her head. "No, no! You never told us you felt this way for him, so we need answers!"

You concede, feeling tired of bottling up your crush anyway. "Alright, alright. Yes, I like him. I mean, it's hard not to." You explain sincerely before becoming playful again, "I think he covered me from an explosion once and I almost died feeling his hands on my waist. Like, how is it possible for someone to have such delicious arms."

"Delicious?" Emily echoes with an amused snort at your choice of adjective.

JJ snickers and nudges your foot with hers. "Careful, you're about to start drooling."

You nudge your foot back against hers and try to suppress the heat that's creeping up your neck. Unfortunately for you, Penelope is just getting warmed up.

"So, would you... y'know... do the devil's dance with him?" Penelope asks coyly, giving you a teasing smile.

"Hey, my turn is over now!" You say and chuckle, shaking your head at their antics.

Though, you should have known that they wouldn't let you get away that easily.

The three of them stare at you with puppy eyes, causing you to squirm on the spot. "Geez, yes, I would. I mean, he seems like he could use the stress relief." You joke before quickly adding, "And I'm only telling you guys because you guys look ridiculous with those expressions!"

"Ridiculous or not, it worked." Emily smirks victoriously.

Luckily, they seem to take pity on you after grilling you so hard, and they move on with the game.

The next morning, you're starting to regret having stayed up with the girls until three in the morning. Your eyes feel like they're being pressed down by bowling balls as you yawn for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Emily is in a similar state as you, head lazily propped on one hand as she sluggishly signs off on some reports in front of her.

“Let’s never do that again.” You grumble just loud enough for Emily to hear, rubbing your eyes.

She chuckles under her breath and nods a bit in agreement, eyebrows raising a bit. “Yeah, or let’s just get drunk and pass out like normal people.” She jokes.

You both snicker softly until you see JJ hurrying toward Hotch’s office with a stack of files in her arms. “Ah…” you say with a slow blink.

“3… 2… 1…” Emily counts down playfully, just as Aaron stands up and leaves his office.

“BAU team— conference room, now.” He calls out smoothly, his eyes catching yours for the briefest second before he’s practically marching off.

You stand up and stretch your arms, watching as your team starts heading over for a new case briefing.

Glancing back toward Emily, you frown tiredly. "How is JJ so peppy today?"

"Perks of motherhood?" Emily suggests and shrugs.

You and her slowly trudge toward the stairs, catching up with Derek who seemed a bit hungover.

The man pauses and glances between you and Emily, grinning playfully. “You both look like hell. Fun night?”

“Not as fun as yours, I’m sure.” Emily chuckles as the three of you walk into the conference room. You’re about to head to your usual chair when you see Aaron sitting in the chair next to it.

You pause in your step and look back at Emily. Of course, seats weren’t assigned, but there had always been an unspoken rhythm of the team occupying the same seats.

Tilting your head a little, you can see some of your team members momentarily questioning it, but shrug it off as they sit down.

“Huh…” Emily says under her breath and hides a smirk, tapping your lower back to usher you to sit down. Aaron had stolen her usual spot, but she didn’t seem all that perturbed by it.

You sink down into your chair, keenly aware of your proximity to his warm body as JJ hurries to the head of the table to turn on the monitor.

As she begins to summarize the details of the case and the descriptions of the victims, you’re only half listening. Aaron keeps subtly shifting in his spot, and his knee even bumps into yours a few times.

You would definitely need to reread the file on the jet.

Aaron speaks up as JJ concludes with the details, voice low and level. “The request is urgent, so wheels up in thirty.”

The team begins moving immediately, and as you’re closing the file in front of you, you feel Aaron’s hand land on the back of your chair as he gets up. You tense a little as you could feel how close his hand was to your shoulder, trying to suppress the heat crawling up your chest.

As everyone files out of the meeting room to go grab their go-bags, Emily is immediately joining your side as she speaks under her breath. "That was weird."

"It was nothing." You try to brush it off, ignoring Emily's uncertain look.

Well. Maybe it wasn't nothing.

The moment the team arrived at the New Haven precinct in Connecticut, the atmosphere was off, to say the least. Of course, it was never enjoyable to have to look at pictures of mutilated victims, or deal with officers acting independently, but the feeling you were getting was a bit ominous.

"Is it just me or does something feel different?" You whisper to JJ as she finishes up a phone call.

She looks at you and tilts her head a bit, eyes filled with concern. "Not really... why? Do you think something's off with the profile?"

You shake your head and look away sheepishly. "No, not with the case. Just... with the team?" Your words come out as more of a question as you try to articulate the emotions swirling inside of you.

"Oh. I haven't noticed anything, but we can talk when we get back to the hotel if you want?" She offers with a kind smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, Jaje..." You say softly and try to redirect your focus back onto the case.

Stepping back, you get ready to return back to discuss the unsub's possible hideout locations with Spencer.

Before you can get far, you hear JJ calling for you again. "Could you tell Hotch that the city's agreed to hold a press conference in two hours?" JJ speaks up, eyes telling you that she had a lot on her plate at the moment.

"No problem. I'll see you in a bit." You nod at her and smile before spinning on your heel to look around for Aaron.

You spot him almost immediately, hunched over a desk and flipping through some papers as the police chief hurries away from him, barking out orders to some of the officers scattered around their desks.

"Hotch. JJ said that a press conference will be held in two hours. Spencer and I have narrowed down some locations, so we'll need to work quick." You practically word vomit, trying to ignore your racing heart.

Aaron straightens up and turns to look at you. "Alright, good. Rossi and Prentiss are on their way back too." He says, reaching back to the desk for his cup of coffee, still steaming as he raises it up to his face.

Your eyebrows rise up a bit and you smile softly. "Another cup? That's like your fourth one today."

The man gives you a small smile and nods, letting himself relax a bit. "Yeah, just for some stress relief." Despite how casual his tone was, the inflection of his voice for the very last words has you freezing on the spot.

You choke on your spit a bit, and he keeps his eyes on you. "Are you alright?" He draws out, mouth twisted in concern, but his eyes swirling with a bit of humor.

"Perfect." You wheeze out a bit and give him a strained smile before hurrying away.

Fortunately, you're not forced to overthink his words and the flashbacks of your girl's night confession to go with it, as the unsub makes a critical slip-up after JJ's press conference is broadcasted.

It's only after the unsub is being transported away for booking that you're able to come back down from the adrenaline. You're sitting beside Emily on the curb stretching your tired legs as she scrolls through her phone.

"So he really hasn't called you back? What an asshole." You mumble with a frown as she updates you about the guy she's been going on dates with for the past month.

"Back to the drawing board, I guess." She sighs with a noncommittal smile. Suddenly, you see her tense up, face drawn into a disbelieving gape as she pauses in her scrolling. "Oh my god."

"What? What's wrong?" You ask and turn to face her in worry.

"I called Hotch." She says blankly, slowly looking up at you with shell-shocked eyes.

"Okay...?" You trail off in confusion, eyebrows knit together.

"On Sunday. It says here that I called Hotch." She shows you her phone screen and there at the third slot of the call log is Aaron's contact. It wouldn't have been alarming to you had you and the girls not been together for the entirety of Sunday, but you all were, plus the call history was timed to have occurred at eleven pm.

"No way... check how long the call was." You whisper hurriedly, watching as she hurries to press the information button, nearly calling Aaron on accident in the process.

"Three minutes..." She breathes out in shock.

"No way..." You lean back and slap a hand over your mouth. "I think he heard my confession about him."

"What?" Emily hisses at you in panic, looking around at your teammates who were scattered around the sea of haphazardly parked Buicks.

You nod and rub your temples. "Earlier at the station, he made a comment about needing a stress relief."

"Okay, but that could mean nothing." Emily tries to reassure you, sputtering a little as she tries to come up with alternative explanations.

"I don't think so, Em." You groan and lean your head against her shoulder. "We've both noticed he's been acting different."

"Oh gosh... Did I butt-dial him?" She asks in shock to no one in particularly, laying her head against yours.

Chuckling dryly, you suddenly remember how she had been tossing her phone around during the game. "Yeah... I think it's even worse because I was sober when I said it."

"If it makes you feel better, I've done far more embarrassing things while sober." She says, staring off into the distance.

"I believe that." A small huff leaves you, tone subdued as a small smile of acceptance takes shape on your face. "Oh, and Em?"

"Hm?"

Your eyes flicker to Hotch's figure in the distance as he chats with Derek, arms crossed across his chest. "If I give you my resignation letter, will you give it to Hotch for me? I think I'm going to flee the country."

Much to your chagrin, Emily bands together with Spencer to convince you to not resign, having the younger agent ramble on about the adjustment process of finding a new job and the statistics of people who struggle with getting acclimated to a new work environment.

So rather than slipping your neatly packaged resignation letter onto Hotch's desk, you've taken to hiding out in Penelope's lair while you finish up your paperwork for the case.

Luckily, your bright-eyed friend allows you to pull up a chair at her desk, not even making a peep when you accidentally knock over one of her figurines.

You're hunched over as you write hurriedly, posture taking on a form that would make shrimps envious. As you're finishing up the last few pages of the report, a knock on Penelope's ajar office door draws both of your attention.

Standing with a hand on the door handle, Aaron is gazing at you with his eyes squinted a little due to the dimness of the room. "Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment, please?"

His voice is calm, giving no hints as to what he's feeling as he cracks open the door a bit more. Penelope gives you a side glance before slowly swiveling her chair back around to pretend to work.

"Sure." You say almost inaudibly, awkwardly making your way out of the door as his eyes follow you.

Once you're both out in the hallway, he shuts the door and nods for you to walk a few paces forward to minimize the chances of your lovable tech genius eavesdropping.

"I'm almost finished with my report, sir." You say softly, stopping when you both arrive at the end of the corridor.

Aaron lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes his head. "That's not what I'm here to talk to you about."

Mutely nodding, you wait for him to continue as your eyes move down to stare at the glossy floor.

"I'm sure you know by now, but Prentiss accidentally called me this weekend while you guys were talking." He says softly, beginning to look a bit shy. "And I just wanted to ask if you had meant what you said that night."

Your face is blistering with warmth as you try to deduce the best course of action. "I... yes. I'm sorry. I know that it must have been weird to hear, especially because I'm your coworker. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Aaron rests a hand on your arm to stop you before you can offer to resign out of shame, a warm smile painting his face. "It's okay. It wasn't weird for me... I just wish I didn't have to find out from a butt-dial." He chuckles and rests his hand on your arm.

You practically melt at the touch and you blink in shock. "Oh..."

"Honestly, I'm a bit out of practice when it comes to this kind of thing, but I was wondering if I could take you to dinner this Saturday." He asks softly, looking shyer than you've ever seen him before.

"I would like that." You respond breathlessly, not sure if you were dreaming.

Aaron grins and looks down at his shoes for a second as he tries to compose himself. "I'll pick you up around seven, if that works for you?"

"Yeah, that's perfect." Whatever future plans you had for Saturday were automatically being scrapped anyway.

"Great." He nods and gazes at you, his hand moving from your arm to your hand. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he steps back and allows you to get back to work in Penelope's lair.

As you're trekking down the hall with a giddy smile, you hear him calling your name. You turn around and see him smirking at you a bit.

"And just so you know, I like having my arms around you too."

[justyourusualash]

His Fault | A.H.

summary: the team calls hotch, but he doesn’t pick up. is he alright?

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: mention of the stabby incident, making out, sorta public, teeny weeny bit of crying, its a tiny bit worrisome in the beginning but then its super hilarious, the horizontal tango hit an unexpected commercial break (coitus interruptus)

wc: 720

a.n: guys this is my first hotch fic. its not the indian-american!reader ive been working on. im just trying to put myself on the tag soo here we gooo

“Uhh… guys?” Emily started and the rest of them looked at her with questioning gazes.

“Yes, Emily?” JJ asked, getting worried.

“I’ve been trying to call Hotch, and he isn’t picking up. And considering what happened the last time he didn’t pick up our calls…”

“He got stabbed in his own apartment.” Derek interrupted.

“I think we should go to his apartment and make sure he’s okay.” Emily finished, glaring at him.

“She’s right. But, how will we get in?” Penelope’s arrival was signalled by the jingle of her bracelets.

“Rossi has a key.” Spencer pointed out.

“For emergencies!” Dave exclaimed.

“This is an emergency! We don’t know where or in what state our boss is!” JJ argued and hearing that, Dave relented.

They entered his apartment guns held carefully behind their backs, with Penelope trailing behind them, just in case something was wrong. But, Hotch was not there. “Now what?” Spencer asked, looking around his boss’ apartment.

“Now we wait. If something is wrong we’ll get an indication of it and if nothing is wrong, Hotch will come back and we’ll explain everything to him.” Derek said and everyone agreed.

They waited for about fifteen minutes, when something slammed against the front door and they all brought their guns out again. They then heard the unmistakable sound of Hotch’s keys, the door opened and…

It was her fault that he was half-hard by the time they got to the restaurant, she just looked so good in that dress.

It was her fault that he was completely hard by the time they left the restaurant, she was teasing him so much.

It was her fault that they were making out in the elevator of his apartment building, she showed him a peek of the navy blue lingerie she was wearing just for him.

It was her fault that he was letting her unbutton his shirt in the elevator, she put his hand on her thigh and it was gliding up with a mind of its own.

It was her fault that he all but slammed her into the door of his apartment, she just kissed him so good.

It was her fault that he let her push his shirt off of his shoulders when he closed the door by slamming her into it, she just tasted so-

“Hotch!”

He turned around reaching for his gun on instinct when he realized that it was his team, standing in the living room of his apartment.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment at 9:30 at night?!” Aaron exclaimed, shielding y/n as he handed her his shirt to put on.

“You gave me a key!” Dave argued.

“For emergencies! Stop snickering, y/n.” He looked behind him and bit his tongue to stop himself from smiling as he looked at her.

“Give me the keys and get out of my apartment.” He plucked the keys out of Dave’s hands and turned around to face his girlfriend. “These are yours now.” He said, placing them in her hand.

“What if you need something and you’re not close to your apartment and it’s closer to go from the office?” Derek asked as a ploy to get the keys back.

“You will get the keys back when I decide that you won’t storm my apartment if I don’t pick up a call from you guys. Now, out of my apartment please.”

He turned around after closing the door to find y/n looking at him with tears in her eyes.

“Baby!” He took her face in his hands, worried. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“You gave me the keys to your apartment!”

“I trust you, sweet girl.”

“We’ve only been dating for four months.”

“It’s long enough for me to trust you with my life, baby. That, and I kinda wanna come home one day and see you standing there with nothing but my shirt on.” He smirked at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Oh you horny, horny old man. I love you so much.” She smiled as she reached up to kiss him.

“I love you too, pretty girl” He beamed as they kissed all the way back to his bedroom. It was his fault he gave her the key to his apartment, he just loved her so much.

[minswriting]

What are the cm characters favourite place to do the devil's tango?

anon, the way this sentence made me giggle is crazy.

nsfw | mdni

aaron - aaron likes to think that he prefers to have sex in his bed but honestly, he loves fucking you in his office. the thrill of fucking you in a government building where anyone could watch turns him on much more than he would care to admit.

derek - derek isn’t too picky but he loves having you in the bedroom. he wants to take his time with you and ensure you’re both enjoying it.

luke - has no preference, wholeheartedly. luke will fuck you any time anywhere. public sex? hell yeah. wanna have sex in rossi’s bedroom while at a party? go for it. he’ll fuck you anywhere.

jj - the bedroom. i think jj believes that the bedroom is the place for all sexual endeavors.

emily - emily loves having sex with you anywhere in her apartment. shower sex however? she loves fingering you in the shower fr.

spencer - real talk, spencer loves sitting you on the counter in the kitchen while he goes on his knees and eats you out. you’re a meal, you need to be eaten in the kitchen. however, he will also fuck you any time and anywhere much like luke.

[spencersgirliepop]

two left feet

SPENCER REID X READER

warnings + tags: drunk reader, love confession at a bar, dancing

authors note: hope you enjoy! i think they’re so so sweet i looveeee spencer so much

The bar was glowing with that familiar amber warmth that came with post-case relief and the safety of being surrounded by people who understood you in ways no one else really could.

It wasn’t fancy — worn wooden floors, neon signs buzzing slightly overhead, and music that wasn’t quite loud enough to drown out conversation. But it was cozy, and after a week chasing down leads and losing sleep, it felt like heaven.

You were three drinks in — maybe four, judging by the pleasant fog floating in your brain and the way your cheeks tingled. The edge of the booth dug into your back as you leaned against it, watching your teammates laugh and joke.

Beside you, Spencer nursed a club soda, the condensation gathering on the outside of the glass but his fingers never moving. He was listening to Morgan tease JJ about her pool skills, but you could feel him watching you from the corner of his eye — always aware, always gently tuned to you like some human radar.

You turned to him suddenly, grinning.

“Spence,” you said, your voice lilting with a smile. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

He looked at you with a sort of cautious amusement. “Because I don’t… dance.”

You gasped in mock horror, placing a hand to your heart. “That’s practically a felony.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Technically, felonies involve much more serious—”

“Don’t you ‘technically’ me, Doctor.” You poked his arm, eyes sparkling. “Come on, just one dance. It’s not like I’m asking you to tango.”

His eyes softened, and you caught the way his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “I really don’t know how.”

“I don’t care,” you said brightly, sliding out of the booth and stumbling just slightly. His hand shot out before you could even register the wobble, catching your wrist with feather-light care.

You looked down at his fingers on yours and smiled. “Thanks, hero.”

“You’re very drunk.”

You grinned wider. “Not very. Just… brave.”

He blinked at that. “Brave?”

“Yeah. Liquid courage and all that.” You tugged gently at his hand. “So? Will you be brave too?”

He glanced at the rest of the team. Morgan raised his eyebrows in challenge, grinning. Emily gave him a thumbs up. JJ gave a tiny clap of encouragement. Hotch even offered a rare, slightly amused smirk.

With a sigh that sounded more like surrender than annoyance, he stood.

“Okay. One dance. But I warned you.”

You beamed like you’d just won the lottery and dragged him onto the small dance floor, where couples swayed lazily to a slow, classic tune playing from the jukebox. It was sweet and soft, a perfect contrast to the buzzing neon behind you.

Your hands slid up to rest on his shoulders, and you swayed in time with the music, guiding his arms to rest lightly at your waist.

“There,” you said. “Not so hard, right?”

His brows furrowed in concentration. “I feel like I’m going to step on you.”

“You won’t.”

“I might.”

“You’re doing great.”

He blinked down at you, and suddenly you realized how close you were — barely inches from the warm scent of him, the gentle curve of his jaw, the curious tilt of his head as he looked at you like you were a puzzle he never quite dared to solve.

You sighed contentedly and rested your head on his chest.

“See? Told you you could dance.”

He smiled, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re very persuasive when you’re tipsy.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes bright. “You know what else?”

“What?”

“If I wasn’t drunk, I’d probably be way too shy to tell you that I’ve had a hopeless, completely inconvenient, utterly massive crush on you for months.”

His breath caught.

You didn’t seem to notice. “Like… enormous. Like.. love. Your-scarf-collection-is-charming level of enormous.”

Spencer blinked. “That’s… very enormous.”

You giggled and leaned back into him, swaying with the music like you belonged there.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, and you thought maybe you’d crossed a line — but then he bent his head slightly, lips brushing near your temple.

“You can tell me again in the morning,” he said, voice gentle and warm. “Just to be sure.”

Your smile was sleepy, but genuine. “Maybe I will.”

As the music played and your bodies moved slowly in time, the world seemed to fall away — just the two of you, dancing clumsily but sweetly under low lights and laughter, and Spencer thinking to himself that maybe — just maybe — he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

[nedlittle]

apropos of nothing, here are some gay historical fiction novels that engage with historical queerness in thoughtful, complex, and interesting ways (organized chronologically)

hild by nicola griffith ↪ early 7th century england

a tip for the hangman by alison epstein ↪ 1585-1593 england

confessions of the fox by jordy rosenberg ↪ 1702-1724* england

the confessions of frannie langton by sara collins ↪ 1812-1826 jamaica to england

patience and sarah by isabel miller ↪ 1816 america

devotion by hannah kent ↪ 1830s prussia to australia

the sweetness of water by nathan harris ↪ 1865 america

whiskey when we're dry by john larison ↪ 1885 america

the city of palaces by michael nava ↪ 1897-1913 mexico

tipping the velvet by sarah waters ↪ 1890s england

at swim, two boys by jamie o'neill ↪ 1915-1916 ireland

the gods of tango by caro de robertis ↪ 1913-1920s argentina

uncommon charm by emily bergslien and kat weaver ↪ 1920s america

the book of salt by monique truong ↪ 1930s vietnam to paris

the amazing adventures of kavalier and clay by michael chabon ↪ 1939-1954 america and beyond

the flight portfolio by julie orringer ↪ 1940 france

the savage kind by john copenhaver ↪ 1940s america

a thin bright line by lucy jane bledsoe ↪ 1950s america

*this one has a framing device and footnotes from the present day but the bulk of the story is set in the early 1700s

[badathumanemotions]

After Hours

Spencer Reid x Reader x Emily Prentiss MDNI Category: Smut CW: Friends With Benefits, Co-Workers, Threesome, Strap On, Sex Toy, Vaginal Sex, Cum as Lube, No Prep, Pegging, Dom/Sub Undertones. WC: 5,024 Master List Spencer, Emily, and Reader have a friends with benefits arrangement. (Not Proof Read) @imagining-in-the-margins

Spencer Reid sat hunched over his desk at the BAU, the fluorescent lights above flickering in rhythm with his weary blinks. The mounds of paperwork and empty coffee cups served as a testament to the long hours he'd been putting in lately. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, and his tie hung loose around his neck like a noose made of silk. The tension of the latest case weighed on him like a lead blanket, stifling his usual brilliance and leaving him drained. The only thing keeping him going was the promise of relief that evening—a promise that had been whispered in the hallowed halls of the office in hushed tones and knowing glances.

Y/N looked up from her own paperwork, noticing Spencer's distraction. They shared a knowing smile, the kind that could melt the ice of the coldest of cases. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, the electricity between them crackled. The air grew thick with anticipation, and the office felt hotter than it had any right to be. They'd been dancing around this for weeks now—a delicate tango of desire and professionalism. But tonight, all that would change. Tonight, they would let their hair down and indulge in the kind of stress relief that HR would never endorse.

Emily Prentiss leaned back in her chair, watching the silent exchange with a knowing smirk. She knew the signs of their mutual frustration all too well. It was a dance they'd performed countless times before, and she was always ready to lead when the music played. She casually stretched, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal the soft, bare skin of her midriff. The gesture was innocent enough, but the message was clear: the clock was ticking down to their rendezvous.

The minutes dragged on like hours, each second feeling like a lifetime. The office buzzed with the mundane chatter of cases and deadlines, but their minds were elsewhere—on the promise of what awaited them after the sun dipped below the horizon. The anticipation was a drug, pulsing through their veins, making their skin feel too tight and their nerves too alive. They all knew the script—the quiet nods, the lingering glances, the unspoken agreement to meet at Emily's place once the day was done. It was a ritual they'd perfected over the months, a secret shared only by the three of them.

Finally, the clock struck the magical hour, and the trio packed up their things with an unspoken haste. They made their way to the elevator, the weight of their desire pressing down on them like a heavy fog. The ride down was silent, the only sound the ding of the elevator as it descended floor by floor. Spencer's heart thudded in his chest like a bass drum, and he couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N, who returned his gaze with a smouldering look that sent shivers down his spine. Emily's eyes gleamed with mischief, her smile a secret shared only by those who knew what the night had in store.

Once they arrived at Emily's apartment, the tension snapped like a tightly coiled spring. The door barely had time to close before they were on each other, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. The scent of their need filled the room, a heady aroma that seemed to thicken the air and make it harder to breathe. They shed their clothes like snakes shed their skin, leaving a trail of fabric on the floor as they stumbled toward the bedroom.

Emily led the way, her dominance as palpable as the heat between them. She reached back and grabbed Y/N's hand, pulling her in close. Spencer trailed behind, his eyes wide with excitement and a hint of trepidation. The room was dimly lit, the fabric covered lamps casting a soft glow across the walls. The large bed in the centre looked like a stage set for their darkest fantasies.

Y/N's hand slid up Emily's back, tracing the lines of her spine before settling on the nape of her neck. They kissed deeply, their tongues dancing in a fiery tango as they stumbled backward onto the bed. Spencer watched, his eyes glued to the sight of their tangled bodies, his cock growing hard at the thought of what was to come. He felt a thrill of submission, knowing that tonight, he would be the one to watch and serve.

Emily broke away from Y/N, her eyes shimmering with lust and power. She turned to Spencer, her voice low and commanding. "Sit on the bed, against the headboard," she instructed, her finger pointing imperiously. Spencer obeyed without a word, his legs trembling slightly as he settled into place, his erection bobbing with every movement.

Y/N was then positioned with her back against Spencer's chest, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Spencer's arms wrapped around her waist, his hands ghosting over her skin as Emily took charge.

"Hold her legs open," Emily purred. He eagerly complied, his palms pressing against the inside of Y/N's thighs, spreading them wide. The intimacy of the position made his heart race. He could feel Y/N's warmth radiating against him, her breaths coming in short gasps as Emily positioned herself between her legs.

Emily began to tease Y/N's pussy with a feather-light touch, her fingers dancing along the sensitive folds. Y/N's eyes rolled back, and she moaned, her body arching towards the touch. Spencer's cock throbbed in response, straining against Y/N's back as he watched Emily's skilled movements. Her thumb circled Y/N's clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave Y/N wanting more. The sight of his friend's pleasure painted on her face was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and submission.

"You're so eager, aren't you?" Emily murmured, her voice a seductive purr. She traced her fingers down Y/N's stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. "But remember, it's up to me to decide when and how you come."

Y/N bit her bottom lip, nodding slightly as she felt Emily's hand cup her mound. The anticipation was exquisite, a sweet torment that had her entire body singing with need. Emily's eyes met Spencer's over Y/N's shoulder, a smug glint of pleasure in them. Spencer's own arousal grew as he felt the tremble in Y/N's body, the way she leaned into his touch as if seeking solace from the storm of sensation Emily was unleashing.

Emily's fingers slid lower, slipping into the warm wetness of Y/N's pussy. Spencer watched, his eyes transfixed as he felt Y/N's hips jerk in response. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the dampness of her skin against his palms as he held her in place. The scent of arousal filled the room, thick and potent, making his mouth water with the need to taste.

Y/N's moans grew louder as Emily's fingers began to pump in and out of her, the rhythm slow and deliberate. Emily's eyes met Spencer's, the challenge in them clear. He knew his role tonight was to watch, to serve, to submit to their desires. But the need to be part of this intimate dance was overwhelming. He felt Y/N's body tense and release, her muscles rippling under his touch as she rode the waves of pleasure Emily was crafting.

Spencer's cock was a steel rod pressed against Y/N's back, and the friction was maddening. He wished it was buried inside her, feeling her warmth and wetness firsthand. But he knew better than to interrupt the show. Emily's thumb circled Y/N's clit, faster and harder, and Spencer could feel her legs quivering in his grip. Her breath grew ragged, and her eyes squeezed shut as she approached the precipice of orgasm.

Emily leaned in, her breath hot and damp against Y/N's sensitive flesh. "You're so close, aren't you?" she whispered, her voice a siren's call. "But not yet." She withdrew her hand, and Y/N's eyes shot open, a silent plea in them. Emily's smile was cold, a knowing smirk that sent a shiver down Spencer's spine."

With a graceful twirl, Emily stood from the bed, her naked form casting shadows on the floor. She sauntered over to her nightstand, her hips swaying with each step. Y/N's eyes followed her, her breath hitching as she opened the drawer and pulled out a silicone strapless dildo. The sight of it sent a jolt of excitement through her, and she felt her own arousal spike in anticipation.

Emily turned back to them, the dildo held loosely in her hand. She straddled Y/N's body, aligning the dildo with her own slick entrance. Spencer watched, his heart racing, as she pushed the toy inside herself with a soft groan. The other end, thick and curved, nudged against Y/N's pussy, the promise of a shared pleasure.

With a deliberate motion, Emily pushed the dildo further into her own heat, the base pressing firmly against her clit. She leaned over, capturing Spencer's mouth in a bruising kiss, her tongue demanding entry as she claimed him. He tasted her dominance, her control, and he melted into it, his cock pulsing with every inch she took.

Suddenly, she broke away, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Now, watch," she whispered against his lips. She positioned herself so that the dildo was at the perfect angle, and then, with a wicked smile, she began to thrust into Y/N. The other woman's eyes went wide with surprise and pleasure as she felt the fullness of the toy stretching her open.

The sight of Emily's body moving against Y/N's, the sound of their flesh slapping together, was almost too much for Spencer to handle. He could feel the vibrations through his own body, and the pressure against his cock was exquisite. His hands tightened on Y/N's thighs as he watched Emily's breasts bounce with every thrust, her muscles rippling with the effort.

Y/N's moans grew louder, her hips meeting Emily's with every push. The dildo filled her completely, the curve hitting all the right spots. Spencer's mouth went dry as he watched her face contort in ecstasy, her eyes rolling back in her head. He could feel her body tighten against him, her muscles contracting as she approached climax. The power dynamics of the scene played out before him like a live-action porn scene, and he was utterly enthralled.

Emily's movements grew more fervent, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The dildo slid in and out of Y/N with a wet, needy sound that seemed to echo through the room. Spencer's cock was painfully hard, trapped between Y/N's back and his pelvis, begging for attention. He knew he wasn't allowed to touch himself—not yet—but the temptation was almost unbearable.

Y/N's body began to tremble, her moans turning into whimpers of pleasure. "Emily," she breathed, her voice strained and desperate. "Please…"

Emily's pace grew frenzied, her own pleasure building as she watched Y/N teeter on the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, she pushed the dildo deep into Y/N, the toy's base grinding against her clit. Her orgasm ripped through her, a violent storm of sensation that had her back arching and her nails digging into the bedsheets.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, and she screamed out her release, her pussy spasming around the dildo. Spencer felt her body tighten, her muscles contracting in waves of ecstasy that seemed to echo through his own. He could see the desperation in her face, the raw, unbridled passion that Emily had brought to the surface.

Emily's own climax washed over her like a tidal wave, her hips bucking and her pussy clenching around the inserted end of the dildo. Her orgasm was a symphony of sensation, a crescendo that had been building up, and now it crashed over her with the force of a hurricane.

As the waves of pleasure receded, leaving their trembling bodies in its wake, they took a moment to catch their breath. The room was thick with the scent of sex, a potent perfume that seemed to cling to their skin. Emily's chest heaved, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction as she stared down at Y/N, who was still lost in the aftermath of her own release.

"Now, it's time for the next act," Emily murmured, her voice like velvet. She slid the dildo out of herself, a wet sound that had Spencer's cock twitching with need. Y/N looked up at her through a haze of pleasure, her eyes glazed with desire.

Emily's hand reached down, gripping the base of the dildo firmly. "Put this on," she ordered, her voice low and commanding. Y/N took it, her hands shaking slightly as she inserted the wearable end of the toy, adjusting it until the thick, curved shaft jutted out from her pelvis.

"Now," Emily said, her voice a seductive purr, "it's Spencer's turn." She slid off Y/N and turned her attention to Spencer. He watched, wide-eyed, as she approached him, his breath hitching in his throat. The need to be part of this intimate dance was now a raging fire, consuming him from the inside out.

Emily's eyes never left his as she straddled him, her wet pussy sliding against his cock. She positioned Y/N so that the tip of the dildo was pressing against his asshole, the coolness of it making him gasp. "You've been a good boy, watching us," she cooed, her hands sliding up his chest. "But now it's time for you to be a good little slut."

With a wicked smirk, she leaned in and whispered, "You know you want it, Spencer. You want to feel Y/N's cum inside you." The words were a hot brand, searing into his psyche and making him crave the filthy, depraved act more than he ever thought possible. His cheeks flushed, but he nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Good boy," Emily purred, her hand sliding down to grip his cock. She gave it a rough squeeze, making him gasp. "But we don't need to prep you, do we? You're so desperate for it, you're practically begging."

Spencer felt his face heat up, but he couldn't deny the truth of her words. The thought of the dildo lubed up with Y/N's cum filling him up was driving him wild with need. He nodded, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Yes, Emily."

Y/N took the cue, pushing forward with a gentle but firm pressure. Spencer felt the tip of the dildo breach his hole, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure that made his eyes fall shut. His body adjusting to the intrusion as she slid it in deeper. Emily watched with a sadistic glee, her eyes never leaving Spencer's face as she tightened her grip on his cock, stroking it in time with Y/N's movements.

Y/N took her time, her eyes locked on Spencer's, gauging his reactions. With every inch she pushed in, she felt his body tense and then relax, his moans growing louder. The sight of his face—a picture of pure, unbridled lust.

Once the dildo was fully seated in Spencer, Y/N paused, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. She waited, not for permission, but for the moment when she knew he was ready for more. Spencer's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth gritted, but she could feel his body begging for it. He was hers to use, to claim, and she revealed in that power.

With a wicked grin, Y/N began to thrust into him, her movements slow and deliberate at first. Each push sent a bolt of pleasure through Spencer, the sensation of being filled so completely was something he hadn't quite prepared for. The dildo stretched him, filled him, and the feeling of Y/N's firm thighs against his own was an erotic symphony playing against his skin.

Emily, not one to be left out, straddled his waist, her own wetness coating his cock as she began to grind against it. The friction was maddening, a sweet torture that had him begging for more. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Look at me," she demanded, and Spencer's eyes snapped open, meeting hers.

Her eyes held a fiery dominance that sent a shiver down his spine, and he knew he was about to be claimed in a way he never had before. As Y/N's thrusts grew deeper, Emily took his length in her hand, stroking him in time with the rhythm. The sensation of being filled and pleasured simultaneously was almost too much to handle.

Emily leaned down, her breasts brushing against Spencer's chest as she took his mouth in a searing kiss. She tasted like power and need, and he could feel her pulse racing against his tongue. With a wicked smile, she broke the kiss and slid down his body, her wetness coating him as she went.

Her hand guided his cock to her entrance, the tip nudging against her slick folds. Spencer watched, his eyes wide with anticipation, as she took a deep breath and slid down onto him. The sensation was indescribable, a perfect mix of tightness and heat that had him gritting his teeth to hold back his own orgasm.

Emily's eyes never left his as she took him in, inch by inch, her pussy stretching to accommodate his thickness. Her moan was a symphony of pleasure, a sound that resonated through his very core. The sight of her, her breasts bouncing with every descent, her eyes glazed with desire.

Spencer felt the pressure building inside him, the need to come a gnawing ache that was only heightened by the feel of the dildo in his ass and Emily's tight heat around his cock. He could feel every muscle in his body straining, his breath coming in ragged pants. He was a conduit for their pleasure, a vessel for their desires.

Y/N's pace grew more erratic, her thrusts now punctuated by her own moans of need. Spencer's hips rolled to meet hers, his body moving on instinct, his mind lost in the symphony of sensation. He was consumed by the pleasure, a willing slave to the two dominant women who had claimed him.

The pressure within Spencer grew to an unbearable crescendo, his muscles taut as a bowstring. Emily could sense his impending release, her own arousal spiking at the thought of him coming undone beneath them.

Y/N's thrusts grew more deliberate, her aim precise. With a wicked grin, she angled the dildo just so, the tip hitting his prostate with each deep plunge. The first time it grazed that sensitive spot, Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, and a guttural moan tore from his throat. Emily felt his cock jerk, and she knew they had found the sweet spot.

"Oh, fuck," Spencer whispered, his voice strangled. The sensation was intense, a white-hot bolt of pleasure that shot through his body. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and his entire being was alight with desire. His hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he tried to hold on, to keep from shattering into a million pieces.

Emily's eyes never left his as she began to ride him with renewed vigour, her hips rolling and bucking in a dance that was as ancient as it was erotic. She was a goddess, a queen, and he was her willing subject. Each bounce sent a jolt through his cock, a symphony of pleasure that had him on the edge of his sanity.

Her breasts swayed with every thrust, the sight of her riding him a vision that was burned into his mind forever. He could feel the beginnings of his climax building, a pressure that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The room was a blur of sensation—the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the feel of the dildo filling him up and Y/N's hands guiding him through the motions.

But it was Emily's eyes that held him captive, her gaze a brand that seared into his soul. "Please," he whimpered, his voice strained. "Please, let me come."

Emily's smile grew, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards as she felt Spencer's desperation. She knew he was close, his body trembling beneath her. "Not yet," she whispered, her voice a sweet torment. "Not until I say so."

With a grace that belied the urgency of the moment, Emily repositioned herself, her movements as fluid as water. She turned, her legs straddling Spencer's hips, leaving her facing Y/N. She reached back, her hand finding his cock, slick with her juices, and guided it back to her entrance.

Their eyes locked, the unspoken question in Y/N's gaze. Emily's response was swift and sure. Her hand slid around the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her in for a kiss that was as fiery as it was possessive. Their tongues danced, a duel of desire that sent sparks flying. Spencer could feel the heat of their passion, the intensity of their connection.

With a fluid grace that seemed almost inhuman, Emily began to ride him, her hips moving in a mesmerizing rhythm that had him panting. Each downward thrust brought her closer to Y/N, whose mouth was eager and hungry against hers. They kissed as if it were the last time, as if the world was ending and all that mattered was this moment of shared ecstasy.

Y/N's breasts bounced with every movement, and Emily couldn't resist the temptation. Her hands slid up to cup them, her thumbs playing with the sensitive peaks.

"Look at me," Emily murmured, her voice a velvet command. Y/N's eyes snapped to hers, the haze of pleasure sharpening into focus. Emily's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?"

Y/N nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp pants as she felt the pressure building within her. Each thrust of the dildo into Spencer sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, the sensation of being so intimately connected to Spencer a heady rush.

Emily watched them, her own arousal growing by the second. Her hand slid down her body, her fingers finding her clit, already swollen and sensitive from her earlier release. Y/N's moans grew louder as she pumped the dildo into Spencer, her own climax approaching like a freight train.

"Fuck, Emily," Spencer gasped, his body a tightly wound spring ready to snap. "I can't hold on much longer."

Emily's eyes gleamed with a sadistic satisfaction as she watched Spencer's desperation. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against Y/N's as she whispered into the other woman's ear, "Make him cum, baby. I want to feel him spill inside me."

Y/N's eyes widened with excitement, and she picked up the pace, her movements becoming more erratic and passionate. Spencer's body was a canvas of pleasure, his moans and gasps painting a picture of ecstasy. Emily's hand worked in tandem with Y/N's thrusts, her fingers moving in a circular motion over her clit, driving her closer to the edge.

Spencer felt the climax building, his body a symphony of sensation. He could feel the tightness in his balls, the ache in his cock. "Please," he begged, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Please, let me cum."

Emily's eyes met Y/N's, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. The room was a cacophony of moans and gasps, the rhythm of their bodies in perfect harmony. Y/N's thrusts grew stronger, more demanding, the dildo slamming into Spencer's prostate with a precision that had him teetering on the edge.

"Cum for us, Spencer," Emily purred, her voice a siren's call. "Give us what we want."

The words were all it took. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the apartment, Spencer's orgasm hit him. His body arched off the bed, his hips bucking wildly as ropes of cum shot out of him, filling Emily. Y/N's eyes widened in awe, watching the display of raw, unbridled passion.

Emily felt the warmth of Spencer's release, the thickness of his cum filling her, and it was like a spark to kindling. Her own orgasm crashed over her, a wave so intense it stole her breath away. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her muscles pulsing in time with her heartbeat as she rode the wave of pleasure.

Y/N watched, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and envy, as Emily took her pleasure. The sight of Spencer's body, lost in ecstasy, was almost too much to bear. Her own need grew, a desperate ache that she knew only one thing could satiate. She pushed the dildo into Spencer with renewed vigor, the friction against her own clit driving her closer to the edge.

Spencer's orgasm was a thing of beauty, a testament to the power that Emily and Y/N held over him. His body arched, his muscles tightened, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Y/N's hips never stopping, milking every last drop of pleasure from his trembling form.

As Spencer's climax subsided, Y/N's own need grew more urgent. She could feel the pressure building, her clit swollen and sensitive from the friction of the dildo. She rode him harder, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she approached her own peak.

With one last harsh thrust, she tipped over the edge into her own orgasm. Her body spasmed, the dildo buried deep within Spencer as she found her own release. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head back, the waves of pleasure crashing over her like a storm at sea.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Then, with a final tremor, Y/N pulled the dildo out of Spencer, the wet sound echoing through the room. She collapsed onto the bed beside him, her body slick with sweat.

Emily leaned over Spencer's form, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she watched him try to catch his breath. "Good boy," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "You did so well."

Y/N leaned back, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her hand still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm. She reached down, her grip tight around the base of the dildo, and with one swift movement, she pulled it free. It was a sensation that sent aftershocks of pleasure through her, making her whimper.

With a sultry smile, she tossed the toy onto the bed, watching as it landed with a soft thud. It lay there, glistening with their combined juices, a silent testament to the passion they had just shared.

Y/N leaned back, her chest heaving with exertion. She felt… spent, yet invigorated. Her eyes met Spencer's, and she saw the same raw emotions reflected in his gaze. "Good boy," she echoed Emily's words, her voice a caress that sent shivers down his spine.

They all lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and satiated bodies. The sweat glistened on their skin, mingling with the remnants of their climaxes. Spencer's eyes drifted closed, a content smile playing on his lips as Emily and Y/N cuddled closer, their soft bodies pressing against his. Despite the stickiness and the faint smell of sex, there was something incredibly comforting about the intimacy of the moment.

Emily's hand trailed lazily over Spencer's chest, her thumb tracing patterns on his skin as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. Y/N's head rested on his shoulder, her breaths deep and even as she too revelled in the afterglow.

In the quiet of the post-coital haze, the unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. They were all silently glad that they had this arrangement, this deliciously twisted dance of domination and submission that played out behind the closed doors of Emily's apartment. It was a secret garden of pleasure, a place where they could shed the weight of their jobs and their inhibitions.

Spencer felt the warmth of their bodies, the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they all tried to catch their breath. He knew that without these moments, without the fiery passion that Emily and Y/N brought to his life, he would be lost, drowning in the cold, clinical world of the BAU. Their arrangement was more than just sex—it was an escape, a sanctuary from the darkness that surrounded them.

Y/N rolled onto her side, her hand sliding up to stroke Spencer's cheek. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt the tension of the day melt away. The three of them had found something special, something that went beyond the confines of their job descriptions and into the realm of the taboo. It was a balm for their weary souls, a reminder that they were more than just agents, that they were alive and capable of feeling.

Emily watched them, her own chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of contentment. She knew that Spencer craved this—the release from his own mind, the chance to let go of his control. And Y/N, she knew, enjoyed the power, the ability to make him beg and whimper. They were all getting what they needed, a delicate balance of give and take that only they understood.

The silence stretched out, a warm embrace that enveloped them all. It was a testament to their connection, this unspoken understanding that no words could ever fully capture. They had found refuge in one another, a place where they could be vulnerable and strong, where desire didn't have to be whispered but could be shouted from the rooftops—or at least the four walls of Emily's apartment.

[beardedhotchner]

El Tango De Roxanne

(Part 2 of Spencer Reid x Prostitute!Reader)

Part 1 Part 3

A/N: Enjoy part 2, Amia xxx

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Prostitute!Reader

Summary: Songfic inspired by El Tango de Roxanne - Reader is a prostitute and worries her pimp will kill Spencer if he knows they've fallen in love. Reader has to push Spencer away, but he's too busy getting upset that she might be having sex with someone other than him.

T/W: Prostitution, trafficking (?), physical abuse, sexual abuse, reclamation of Reader's body(she reclaims herself and her wants), arrested, interrogation, Morgan is kinda an ass, so is JJ, dad!hotch vibes, arguing, swearing, kinda OOC Spencer

To say you were angry would be the fucking understatement of the year.

Your body stiff and tense. You were seething. A tall man in a suit (Hotch? You vaguely remember Spencer telling you about his steely faced boss) approached with him. You shot daggers to your boyfriend, holding out your wrists to the other man. He looked at you in confusion, bypassing you for Callie, who still clung to you even with the betrayal in her eyes.

"Camille Bakster, you are under arrest for solicitation..." You don't listen to her miranda rights, holding back tears as the 16 year old is taken from your side. Spencer reaches out for you and you hold out your wrists.

"Arrest me." He looks at you in horror and confusion, your eyes filled with a numbness he hoped never to see again. "Reg is gonna kill me if he finds out I wasn't arrested with them. And that you know me by name. So arrest me. Even if it's fake. Do something." Spencer nods in understanding, pulling his cuffs out he begins to 'arrest you', taking you in the back of his SUV. A bald man sits in front with him, a black haired woman in the back with you. The air inside warm and stuffy with the tinted windows, the leather seat hot on your legs.

"Kid. You should've told us-" The man says to Spencer. You watch your boyfriend shake his head and you interrupt him.

"He didn't have to tell you nothing. I don't do anything." It was true. You hadn't for a while now, Spencer always booked the nights you're supposed to work for Reggie. So you hadn't technically been soliciting since you met in that hotel elevator all those months ago.

The bald man laughs, "yeah you just happen to be walking around with a known pimp and a girl who's obviously a prostitute, while your dressed like that-" Its Spencer's turn to talk now.

"Don't fucking talk about her like that." His voice was cold. You hadn't heard him swear outside of the bedroom before. Even while mad at him, you couldn't deny it drove you wild. You fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together in a bid for relief. "You don't ever get to accused her of that. Or talk to her like that, Morgan." The other man, Morgan as Spencer called him, nods, seemly accepting this.

"Okay, man. I apologise." You don't bother to glance at the woman next to you. You can tell she's staring. And she's definitely shocked when Spencer snaps, and again, when you ask for the cuffs to come off.

"Reg can't see me in here. Can I get them off?" Spencer nods to the woman and you see her hesitate before her unlocks them. As soon as they're off, your rub at the red indents on your skin. "Fucking hate being cuffed or tied up." You explain, feeling the need to for some reason, as if Spencer's team (his found family) were entitled to it.

The woman smiles at you, almost sympathetically, "So what do you do? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Emily-" Spencer starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. You're quick to lean forward, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Even when mad, you didn't like seeing him upset. It tore you up inside.

"I'm Reg's girl. His Angel." You clarify, "He took me in when I was younger, and I was a hooker. For a while. It was all I knew. But I met Spencer. And I don't anymore. Instead, I sit in empty hotel rooms waiting for a client that I know won't show, because I don't solicit anymore." Spencer's hand was resting on yours as you continued to rub his shoulder gently. Your other hand picks at a thread on your red dress, your eyes darting up to Emily's.

"How do you know they won't show up?" Morgan presses, his hands tightening on the wheel as we follow the convoy of cars to the station.

"Because they don't." You weren't going to snitch on your's and Spencer's secret meetings. Especially as you weren't sure where the FBI stood on a man paying his girlfriend's pimp off to stop his girlfriend from having to prostitute herself. Spencer relaxes under your touch and you knew you had made the right decision not to drop him in it.

A phone rings and when Morgan answers it, reminding whoever called that they were on speaker, a high pitched voice comes across the speakers, "Spencer Reid. When were you gonna tell us you had a gorgeous girlfriend? She looks stunning in that red dress!-"

"Garcia." Emily chuckles, "his girlfriend can hear you." You call out a 'hi' earning yourself a suspicious look from Morgan in the rear view mirror.

The voice of Garcia fills the cab again, "Oops well I'm not lying. You look great, honey!" Spencer shakes under your hand and you know he's holding back a laugh. "Hotch wants them all separated. Unfortunately, as well as Reginald and his team, both the girls are gonna need to be interrogated too-"

"No." You say loudly. "Callie doesn't deserve this. She's barely 16. Let her go home. She has a kid. She is a kid!" Your argument seems to fall on deaf ears as they continue to talk around you.

"Hotch wants her kept away from Camille. He's worried there's a conflict of interest -" Garcia is cut off once again, this time by Morgan.

"No kidding there's a conflict of interest. Reid's girl seems to think Camille is a saint-" He glances at you in the mirror once again.

"I don't think she's a saint. She's a kid who's been through too much-"

"Doesn't matter. She's still a hooker-"

"Morgan shut your mouth-" that was Spencer. He snaps this as you shout:

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you know us!?"

"No. But I think you've gotta be involved some bad shit for Pretty Boy to hide you-"

"I didn't hide her. I just didn't vocalise it-"

"Fuck you!"

Emily is the one to cut in again, Garcia's voice being lost under the overlapped voices, "Enough. You're all bickering like children."

"Like Callie is." You bite back, as Emily snaps the cuffs on you again. You jolt at the coldness before realising you had arrived at the police station. "Spence-" You start but he ignores you, stepping out of the car, pulling you out the back.

You could lie and say you didn't like being manhandled by him, even in this situation. But there would be no point.

His grip on your bicep tightens as he drags you pass Reg's boys, their eyes raking over you as always. He stops to talk to Hotch as you walk past a holding cell. Reg's hand grabs at your arm through the bars, "What the fuck, Angel?" He asks, his voice oddly calm for the rage brewing in his eyes.

"I dunno, Reg..." You whimper, playing into Reg's idea of you. The more submissive you are, the more dumb he'll think you are. A good failsafe for getting out of trouble with him. "Please tell me you have a plan..." It seems to work as the rage slightly dampens as he looks at you.

"I'll get us out. Fuck the rest of them." He mutters, squeezing your hand in what was supposed to be a reassuring gesture. But it just confirms the pit in your stomach. He wants to leave his boys and Callie to the mercy of the FBI, he only wants you and him to get out unscathed. And he expects you to play along with his story too. Fuck.

"Hey." Snaps Morgan, pushing Reg back, "Get her in the room down the hall." He orders Spencer, who is quick to oblige, dragging you with him.

Okay. You definitely can't lie and say you're not turned on by his manhandling.

His grip loosens immediately after the door shuts behind you. He whispers soft apologies as he undos your cuffs. Attaching them to his belt with one hand, the other comes to rub your wrists gently. Soon, both hands are soothing the marks as he mutters sweet nothings to you.

"My pretty girl... I'm so sorry..." he starts, your heart squeezes at the sad look on his face, his brown doe eyes filled with pain.

"Spence, it's okay." You promise, moving your arms around his neck, finally getting to hold the man you love. His arms snake around your waist, happy to have you with him again. You don't stay like that for very long though. As the door opens again, both your arms drop to your sides. Spencer's hand lingers on the small of your back as a greying man and a small blonde enter.

"Spence-" The blonde starts, "you can't be in here while we talk to her." You pull a face. You don't like others calling him 'Spence'. That was something only you did. It didn't help that this woman was obviously gorgeous and most likely intelligent. However, Spencer's eyes don't leave you as he replies clipped.

"That's fine, JJ." He pulls you into a gentle kiss, his hair tickling your face as his soft plump lips capture yours. You hear a cough, but ignore it as Spencer's tongue slips into your mouth, his hands grabbing at your hips. Your own arms around his frame, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other threaded in his hair. You gently bitting his lip and he swallows a moan, pulling back. His face is flushed, his lips red and swollen. You can't help but look smug at your masterpiece. "Play nice. Answer properly." He advises. His voice drops to a whisper as he presses his lips against your temple, "You're mine, im not going to let anything happen to you."

You nod, kissing his cheek gently, squeezing his hands before letting him leave. You turn back to the other two, JJ and the grey haired man.

"Agent Rossi." He introduces himself as gesturing to the seat opposite him as he takes his own. You don't sit. Instead, stay standing where Spencer left you.

"I'm Agent Jareau." JJ says, you nod as if you already knew. She sits down, obviously sizing you up.

"You're the mom of Spencer's godsons." She looks almost shocked that you'd know that, but nods. Rossi, next to her, looks impressed.

"Yes, Spencer is the godfather of my sons." Her tone is short, as if she wasn't expecting Spencer to share so much information with his 'hooker'.

"I like your books." You say to Rossi, turning to face them both. "You're a good writer. You dumb it down for girls like me." You see Rossi's eyes narrow at that comment. He doesn't believe you're as dumb as you pretend. "Spencer reads them to me," you continue, "I can't read his copies as he's got so many notes in the margins, gets distracting and I can't focus."

"Can I ask you something?" Rossi asks, his hands clasped in front of him. He's reading into everything you say. It's a good thing you've been pretending to be someone all of your life... well... until you met Spence. You nod, taking the seat finally. "How did you meet Reid?"

You smirk, "Las Vegas. You guys were there for a case. My date spilt his drink on my dress at the bar, I left him at the table to go back upstairs and change." You eyes flicker to the mirror across one side of the wall, you assume Spencer is there and smile softly. "White dress, top shelf scotch. Didn't fancy sitting in it all night. I ran into Spencer in the elevator-"

"He didn't mention meeting anyone." JJ cuts you off, crossing her arms defensively.

"-Because that was only the first time we met. You guys were there for a week." You explain, almost sharply. Turning back to face the pair, you carry on, "I literally ran into him. Knocking us to the floor. I apologised about thousand times over. He replied with something about the odds of happening... I was going to ask for his number but we already arrived at his floor before I could. I vowed to myself if I saw him again, I would ask."

Rossi nods, waiting for you to continue. He remembers that case. Spencer kept checking his phone over and over, a new habit for the young doctor. He was smiling to himself more and eager to leave for the hotel every night. That was when Rossi knew something had happened, something that made Spencer more... calm. He was happy. Seen. Reid had been in a great mood since then.

"The next day, he was rushing about with Hotch-" They look shocked that you know Aaron's nickname. "-that is the tall, dark guy in the suit? Agent Hotchner, yeah? Well, those two were rushing about and Spence hit me with a case file while he was explaining something. You know, cause he talks with his hands." You giggle at the memory, warmth flooding your chest. "He knelt down to pick up my bag and my stuff and handed him my phone number that I had written out on a napkin the night before. I held onto it incase I ran into him again. He texted like 5 minutes after that, apologising for his clumsiness. I saw him every day until you guys left, sometimes only from across the room. Once at breakfast, before you guys woke up. He brought me a ham and cheese crossiant. It was pretty damn good." I could picture the blush painted across Spencer's face behind that mirror.

"How come Spencer hasn't mentioned you?" JJ asks. She was starting to grate on you a little.

"Ask him. Probably the same reason I haven't told my friends about him." They both stare at you expectantly, "It's no one else's business what two consenting adults do. " You smirk, tapping your manicured nails against the desk, "Unless you want the details?"

Pressing people's buttons was easy, especially when they reveal them as quickly as JJ did. "Hmm?" You're in a stare off with her now, so you can't exactly stop yourself from the smart ass comment rising in your throat, "You wanna know how good Spencer fucks me? What makes him squirm? Or you wanna know my kinks? What makes me scream out his name-" JJ looks away, embarrassed, and Rossi catches your focus again.

"-No. You're right. We don't need to know what two consenting adults do..." He starts, "but Camille isn't an adult." That caught your attention and your eyes snap to Rossi. "She has a son, right? A 14 month old. He's adorable."

"Where is he?" You ask, your heart sinking at the mention of Noah. You had supported Callie through her entire pregnancy at Reg's demand, kept her safe and well-looked after. You looked after Noah as soon as he was born. Being one of the only girls without her own children, you helped Callie out a lot. You tried not to get invested, told yourself it was only because Reggie asked. But that small boy was like your own. He may have well been with the number of times Callie would disappear, and Reg ordered you to look after Noah. "Is he okay? He's not usually away from us both at the same time..."

"He's in the next room. He's okay. He was having trouble sleeping-" Your head snaps to the mirror, silently pleading with Spencer behind it.

"I don't care. Bring him to me, please?" You ask, the facade dropping, "Has he been fed? His last feed from me was... yesterday afternoon. Callie and I were in the hotel all night..." You shook your head, hiding the tears in your eyes.

The door beside you opened and your face lit up at the sight of Noah in his car seat. You stood up, crossing the room quickly. Rossi assures you Noah was fed and he was checked over by a nurse, too.

Unclasping his seat belt, taking him into your arms, you cooed to him, "Hi baby boy." You bouncing gently as he opened his eyes at the sound of your voice, his small smile lightening your heart. You barely look to see who brought him in to you. Holding your hand to his back as you hold him on your hip, the small boy's head rests on your collarbone the way he loves. "There you go, baby." You praise him, smiling widely at him relaxing in your hold.

Rossi and JJ nod to Spencer as they leave the room, you were till to entranced by the toddler to notice your boyfriend hovering nearby. They both saw your facade drop as soon as the boy was mentioned.

"He's just as cute as you said." He mutters beside you. You finally tear your eyes away from Noah, finding Spencer's brown ones watching your face, your reactions. He was so attuned to you already. You were sure he never really needed to watch you the way he did. But Spencer was adamant that he loved watching you no matter what. Another reason your heart soared around him: he was so thoughtful and generous in his love.

"Almost as cute as my other favourite guy." You muse, leaning into Spencer's chest, his arms encircling you both. Small murmurs pass between you both and to Noah. You stayed like that for a while, the small clock on the wall indicating it had been well over an hour. It felt right. Being here like this with Spencer. Maybe.... maybe this is the future you want-

Your inner thoughts are stopped by the entrance of Hotch. Stern look on his face, he reaches for Noah. You turn away from him, demanding an explanation with your glare. Noah fusses gently before settling once again, his eyes closing.

"Camille wants to see him-" He begins to explain. You try to school your features but you needed to see her. "She's in the next room. Reginald is down the hall, his men are in a holding cell around the back-"

"I'll take him to her-" You start, cut off by Spencer's hand on your arm.

"No, love. She can't know that you're not on their side." You pull a face at that. You weren't against Callie and resented that they thought they had your alliegence just because of Spencer. They were right of course. You'd stick by Spencer like he does for you. But that didn't mean you liked these people. Nor trust them with Noah. "Hotch has a son. He knows how to hold a kid. Noah will be okay with him, I promise."

Spencer wasn't one to use the word 'promise' lightly. Even if you didn't trust him with your entire being anyway, that would've been enough to make you cave.

"Fine." You let Hotch take the small boy into his arms. The practised ease of the motion lifts some of the weight on your chest. Watching as Noah stares at this newcomer intrigued before turning back to look for you. Giving the boy a tiny wave, you attempted a reassuring smile.

The boy waves back, smiling widely toward you. It quickly drops when he realises you aren't following him. You hear his cries for you, soft whimpers of "Mama!" You never encouraged him calling you that, not intentionally. Callie silently seethed with rage when it happened the first time. Reg was the opposite. Almost glowing. You couldn't help but react the same, smiling everytime he called you it.

He disappears from your sight with Hotch and you can't help but hold on a bit tighter to Spencer. A small choking sound comes from your throat and Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead. Soft reassurances fill your ears as you sink to the ground. Spencer follows, his arms steady and solid around you.

"I've got you." He promises.

You could help but wonder if that was going to be your downfall.

You fucking hoped not.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in December 2024 🌈

Find these books and more here.

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Happy reading!

❓What was the last queer book you read?

[ Release dates may have changed. ]

❤️ Sugar-Coated Kisses - Echo Lark 🧡 Christmas at Watson Memorial - Clara Ann Simons 💛 Warm-Blooded - J Greene 💚 It Takes Three To Tango - Jem Wendel 💙 The Black Curse - N.A. Moore 💜 Heavenly Tyrant - Xiran Jay Zhao ❤️ Encrypted Hearts - E.V. Bancroft 🧡 Dangerous Devotion - Robin Jo Margaret 💛 Sew in Love - Rhea Fox 💙 Saint - Chani Lynn Feener 💜 Her Ladyship's Christmas Companion - Theresa Meiningen 🌈 A Sky of Emerald Stars - A.K. Mulford

❤️ Inked in Blood and Memory - Allison Ivy 🧡 The Key - Jo Morgan Sloan 💛 Home Between Homes - Flynn Woods 💚 A Kiss for the Holidays - C.S. Autumn 💙 Loving the Linebacker - Amaya Knight 💜 Close to Home - Allisa Bahney ❤️ Christmas Shelter - Eva Gonzay & Julia C. Brown 🧡 This Isn't Everything You Are - J. Marie Rundquist 💛 Keep It in the Dark - Justin Arnold 💙 Santa & His Elf - Bink Cummings 💜 On the Subject of Kittens and Mittens - Katie Silverwings 🌈 Winter's Whisper - M Bonneau

❤️ Boyfriends - refrainbow 🧡 Innis Harbor - Patricia Evans 💛 A Complementary Connection - Eskay Kabba 💚 Point of Sighs - Melissa Scott 💙 Bind You by Blood - Shepard DiStasio 💜 The Resurrectionist - A. Rae Dunlap ❤️ Fractured Dreamer - A.K. Adler 🧡 The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 💛 Becoming Disabled - Jan Doolittle Wilson 💙 A Caress of Water - Nico Silver 💜 How to Survive As a Villain 1 - Yi Yi Yi Yi 🌈 The Silent Concubine - Qiang Tang

❤️ Hadrian - Harlowe Savage 🧡 A Series of Rooms - A.J. Barlowe 💛 Inklings of Invisibility - S.L. Dove Cooper 💚 The Cobbler and His Elves - C.B. Wren 💙 A Nightclub for the Holidays - Arden Coutts 💜 Armor of Dusk - Jess Galaxie ❤️ Twisted Shadows - Allie Therin 🧡 A Deception of Courts - Ben Alderson 💛 Trial Run - Carsen Taite 💙 How to Flirt with a Witch - Tiana Warner 💜 Roughed Up - Kate Hawthorne 🌈 House of Crimson Curses - Ruby Roe

❤️ Sister Snake - Amanda Lee Koe 🧡 Roland Rogers Isn't Dead Yet - Samantha Allen 💛 The Rivals - Jane Pek 💚 Private Rites - Julia Armfield 💙 The Christmas Switch - Briar Prescott 💜 Ribbonwood - Ruby Landers ❤️ Shifting Lanes - Joanne Kwan 🧡 Twice-Spent Comet - Ziggy Schutz 💛 A Crush for the Holidays - E.L. Ough 💙 Resist - Lasairiona Lewis 💜 Free from Falling - E.L. Massey 🌈 The Legendary Master's Wife - Yin Ya

❤️ Tide Breaker's Curse - Ivy H. Marikova 🧡 Twist Her - Terri Ronald 💛 How to Fuck Like a Girl - Vera Blossom 💚 Dog Days of Christmas - Krystal Wolfgang & Kimberly Wolfgang 💙 Warmer, Colder - Alexia Onyx 💜 Salt in the Wind - Jenna Pine ❤️ What We Carry With Us - Joseff McKenneth Goodwin 🧡 Reinvention - Karol Yan 💛 Christmas Carols - Maxime Jaz 💙 I'm Not Your Pet - Fae Quin 💜 Something Extraordinary - Alexis Hall 🌈 I Might Be in Trouble - Daniel Aleman

❤️ Deck the Palms - Annabeth Albert 🧡 Don't Get It Twisted - Wren Taylor 💛 Ice & Sweet - Charlie Novak 💚 Speak EZ - Elle E. Ire 💙 The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish - Xue Shan Fei Hu 💜 Horns For Hell - Rafael Nicolás ❤️ Flamboyant Fictions - Ian Fleishman 🧡 Where the Heart Is - Jenni Simonis 💛 Sorry I Kissed Your Dad - Achilles King 💙 Merry Weihnachten - E.J. Noyes 💜 An Alpha for the Holidays - Emily Axon 🌈 The Blessed - Anne Shade

❤️ Our Sinful Love - Amy H. 🧡 Gambler's Conceit - Adara Wolf & R. Phoenix 💛 Fate and Flambe - Leena Metcalfe 💚 Figure You Out - Hannah Danielle & K.F. Starfell 💙 Amaranthine - Aricka Alexander 💜 Twisted Loyalties - Barbara J. Webb ❤️ Echoes of Us - Alex Cross 🧡 The Shadowbearer's Curse - Jasmyn Morning 💛 Too Many Beds - Various 💙 We Are the Beasts - Gigi Griffis 💜 Unspoken - N.N. Britt 🌈 Rainbows After Storms - Luka Kobachi

❤️ The Shutouts - Gabrielle Korn 🧡 Robin's Worlds - Rainie Oet & Mathias Ball 💛 What the Woods Took - Courtney Gould 💚 Rescue Me - N. Slater 💙 Seb & Ailin - Michele Notaro 💜 The International Love Story - Jonas Noelting ❤️ Waterlogged - Nance Sparks 🧡 The Guardians - Sheri Lewis Wohl 💛 The Changeling's Faerie Prince - K.D. Ellis 💙 Until at Dawn We Wake - Charlotte Dalwood 💜 How to Get a Life in Ten Dates - Jenny L. Howe 🌈 Hammajang Luck - Makana Yamamoto

❤️ The Rules of Royalty - Cale Dietrich 🧡 Tired of Waiting for Tomorrow - Allison K. Garcia 💛 One Last Run - Bryce Oakley 💚 Reckless Hearts - Jax Calder 💙 Christmissed - Blythe H. Warren 💜 How Could You - Ren Strapp ❤️ Blackened - Tyler Briggs 🧡 Gratification in Gluttony - Nik Knight 💛 The Mogul Meets Her Match - Julia Underwood 💙 How to Be Heard - Roxane Gay 💜 The Case of the Missing Maid - Rob Osler 🌈 Shades of Us - D.L. Sims

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

🎭 Scene Imagine: Smoke & Seduction (Imagine the gif above is you and William instead- while reading this)

Notes: Actually, this is for my Fnaf AU, just like the original Fnaf but set in the 40s... and the storyline? It might be different, but who knows, I'll post about it later. Credits the lovely idea from: @ kazroze on Twitter/X

The dim glow of a single lamp paints the room in amber hues. A vintage phonograph crackles in the background, the needle gently gliding over the record. A slow waltz—or perhaps, something deeper, sultrier, like a tango—fills the space.

William holds you close, his touch firm yet teasing, like he’s always dancing on the edge of control. His lips curl around the half-burned cigar, silver-gray eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you.

He's enjoying this—not just the dance, but your reactions, the way you follow his lead, how your breath hitches when he pulls you just a little closer.

And then—the moment.

As the music slows, he dips you effortlessly, his free hand cradling your back. You feel the warmth of his breath as he leans down, close enough for your noses to brush.

Then—surprise.

William's smirk widens and before you can even register what’s happening. His lips part just enough to let the cigar slip from its hold—only for him to steal a kiss as he claims yours instead.

It’s brief, intoxicating, the taste of smoke and something undeniably him lingering against your lips.

And just as fast as it happened, he tilts his head back, the cigar falling right back between his teeth like a magician’s sleight of hand. The ember still burning, as if untouched, the smoke curling lazily around his face.

William exhales—slow, deliberate—blowing a wisp of smoke against your skin, watching with unrestrained amusement as you process what just happened.

William (smirking, voice low): "Magic, darling."

Because, of course. It was always a performance, a trick, a sleight of hand—but one he pulled just for you.

🔹Why This is So ‘William’

Theatrics Above All: Everything he does has an air of flair—he doesn't just kiss, he performs it, turns it into a goddamn show.

Mastery of Control & Devil-may-care energy: He would absolutely kiss you with a lit cigar in his mouth and then carry on as if nothing happened. The way he leads, the way he sets the pace—he’s always just a step ahead.

That Damn Cigar: He makes it a part of his signature, his routine—because why wouldn’t he show off, even in something so small?

His Brand of ‘Romance’: Teasing, smug, confident—he enjoys seeing your reaction as much as he enjoys the kiss itself.

TL;DR: William is a man who doesn’t just steal a kiss—he stages it.

✨ Absolutely, utterly William. Literally✨

Also this entire scene drips with that old Hollywood, dramatic, self-assured charisma—the kind of theatrics he lives for. The man treats everything like an act, a performance meant to mesmerize, and you?

You’re his favorite audience.

BONUS: William Afton & His Ever-Burning Cigar: A Headcanon

William Afton is that kind of man—the one who always has a cigar lazily perched between his teeth, no matter the time or place. It’s like a permanent fixture, a part of his signature presence, just as much as his silver eyes and that damn smug smirk. He doesn’t just smoke a cigar—he owns it, makes it a part of his identity. And no one—not Henry, not his employees, not even death itself—can seem to take it away from him.

And everyone else, like the staff and Henry, always wonders why he never has a "stroke" lol.

The Immortal Cigar: No one has ever seen William light his cigar, nor have they ever seen it fully burn out. It just… exists, forever smoldering, like some supernatural entity bound to him. Does he replace them? Is it the same cigar every time? No one knows.

Henry’s Eternal Concern™: Henry Emily, forever the exhausted voice of reason, has long since given up trying to lecture William on the health risks. At this point, he just mutters things like:

“William, that thing’s gonna kill you.”

“How the hell is it still burning? You’ve had it since this morning.”

“You’ve been talking for an hour straight. How is it still lit?!”

"At this point, I think the nicotine’s preserving your body like an Egyptian mummy."

Employees’ Reactions:

Some of the workers at Fazbear’s place bets on how long the cigar will last before he puts it out. (Spoiler: he never does.)

Others whisper theories—maybe it’s a special kind of cigar, maybe it’s a trick, or maybe William just isn’t human.

The janitor swears he once saw the cigar relight itself when William walked back into the building after a meeting.

Casual Disregard for No-Smoking Signs:

At company meetings? Cigar.

In the break room? Cigar.

Literally standing next to a "NO SMOKING" sign? Cigar.

Inside the animatronic maintenance room? Henry wants to strangle him.

If a kid asks about it, William will just grin and say something like:

"Oh, don’t worry, dear—‘s just for show.”

(Cue Henry wheezing in the background because NO, IT’S NOT, WILLIAM—)

Does It Ever Affect Him?

Somehow, William never coughs, never wheezes, never even looks remotely affected.

If anything, it only makes him more smug when people point it out.

One time, a security guard sarcastically asked:

“Hey, boss, you ever gonna, y’know, put that thing out?”

William, deadpan: “Why? You worried ‘bout me?” [smirks, puffs cigar in their face]

The guard walked away mentally unwell.

Possible Supernatural Implications??

Maybe the cigar isn’t normal.

Maybe it’s tied to him, like a manifestation of something deeper.

Maybe, even in death, the smoke lingers—like a ghost of him remains, curling through the air long after he’s gone.

🚬 William Afton's Emotions Manifesting in Smoke 💭

William isn't just a man of words—he’s a man of unspoken gestures, of controlled theatrics, of making the smallest things feel like they mean the world. So if his smoke is an extension of himself, then, of course, it would betray his emotions when he isn’t careful.

How His Emotions Influence the Shape of His Smoke

Love / Adoration → Heart-Shaped Smoke

He never means for it to happen. One moment, he's just exhaling, lost in thought, eyes lingering on you, and then— a perfect wisp of smoke curls into the shape of a heart before dissipating.

The moment he notices, he immediately waves his hand through it, dispersing the evidence before you can see.

His ears burn, and he scowls at the cigar like it personally betrayed him. "Bloody hell..." he mutters under his breath, taking another drag, this time ensuring it's just a normal, straight puff of smoke.

Annoyance / Frustration → Jagged, Sharp Smoke Trails

When he's irritated, the smoke becomes erratic—harsh, broken wisps that don't settle into any particular form.

It’s restless, uneven, just like his mood. He might not say he’s pissed off, but his cigar sure as hell does.

If you point it out? He huffs, turning his head slightly. "Tch. You’re imaginin’ things, love."

Amusement → Spirals / Loops

When he’s entertained—whether it’s teasing you or just enjoying himself—his smoke moves in lazy spirals, almost playful in the air.

If he’s feeling particularly smug, he might even blow little rings that stack atop one another like a performance.

Bonus: If he’s challenging someone, the rings get tighter, almost like targets. It’s his way of saying, "Come on, then. Impress me."

Deep Thought / Obsession → Lingering Smoke That Refuses to Disperse

When he’s hyper-focused on something, the smoke doesn’t drift away like normal—it hangs in the air, thicker, denser.

Almost as if his thoughts are so consuming that even the smoke refuses to leave him behind.

You could wave a hand through it, and it would still take its time fading away.

This happens most when he’s thinking about you, and he doesn’t even realize.

Anger / Possessiveness → Dense, Unbroken Smoke

If he’s truly pissed off—or worse, feeling territorial—his smoke becomes something almost alive.

It moves with an unnatural weight, curling around him like a living thing, lingering like a warning.

It doesn’t break apart. It stays solid, looming, unwavering—just like his emotions.

If another man is too close to you, the smoke seems to drift between you and them, a barrier that wasn’t there before.

You notice. He pretends not to.

When He Finally Lets You See It

The first time you catch his smoke forming something—maybe a heart, maybe something softer—you call him out on it.

His silver-gray eyes widen ever so slightly before he immediately exhales another puff to cover it up.

"Hmph. Load o' rubbish, that," he mutters, turning his head away. But you see the corner of his lips twitch.

After that, he’s more careful. But sometimes, just sometimes, you’ll catch him slipping—and that’s when you know exactly what’s on his mind.

"Love in Smoke" — William Afton's Unconventional Love Language

Headcanon & Analysis (ithinkimgoininsanebecausewhatthehellamiwrite)

William Afton is a man who communicates in ways that aren’t always spoken—he thrives in subtleties, teasing touches, sharp gazes, and smirks that speak louder than words ever could. So, of course, it makes perfect sense that in this AU, where his ever-burning cigar is practically an extension of himself, it would become a part of his love language too.

He’s the type of man who makes a spectacle out of intimacy, who enjoys control, theatrics, and pushing boundaries—not necessarily in a dominant way, but in a way that says: "I want you to react to me. I want to see what you’ll do."

How He Uses Smoke as a Love Language

Blowing Smoke in Your Face—Teasing or Territorial Gesture

Afton's the kind of bastard who’d exhale a slow, deliberate stream of smoke right in your face just to see you squint, wrinkle your nose, or swat at it.

His eyes glint in amusement as he hums, “What’s the matter, love? That delicate little face of yours too fragile for a bit o’ smoke?”

But if someone else were to do it? No. Absolutely not. That’s his thing.

Trapping You in a Smoke Ring

Imagine him holding you against a wall, one arm bracing beside your head, cigar between his fingers.

He takes a slow drag, his lips curling into a smirk, then—puffs out a perfect ring of smoke around your face, trapping you inside it.

“Go on, then. Breathe me in, doll.”

It’s not just about teasing—it’s about owning the moment, making sure you’re focused on him and only him.

Sharing the Smoke—A Different Kind of Kiss

This is where things get intimate. It starts as a joke, maybe.

He sees you watching him, eyes lingering on the cigar between his lips.

"What, love? You curious?"

Before you can answer, he takes a deep drag, leans in way too close, and breathes the smoke straight into your open mouth.

His eyes never leave yours. The heat of it, the taste of him mixed with tobacco, the deliberate slowness of his exhale—it’s intoxicating in a way that has nothing to do with nicotine.

"Good, innit?" he murmurs, voice like gravel, thumb brushing absently against your jaw. "Just relax. Let me show you how it’s done."

Lighting a Cigar Using a Kiss (Ultimate Power Move)

You’re sitting on his desk, legs draped lazily over his lap. The air between you is thick—charged.

His cigar has gone out, and instead of relighting it normally, he holds it between his teeth and gives you a lazy smirk.

“C’mere, love.”

He tugs you in for a slow, deep kiss—one that leaves you breathless. And as he pulls away, the cigar is relit.

He exhales a thin stream of smoke with a chuckle, watching your reaction. “Magic, huh?”

No one knows how he does it. You don’t ask.

The Look—That One Look

The way William looks at you when he does these things is what truly makes it intimate.

His gaze is never the same for anyone else—sharp, dark, filled with something unspoken.

It’s possessive, but not in a suffocating way—more like he’s memorizing you, branding the image of you into his mind.

That’s what makes it so lethal.

🐇 Scene Imagine (another one cuz WHY NOT) — “Breathe Me In”

You’re seated on his desk, one leg crossed over the other, watching as William leans back in his chair, cigar pinched between two fingers. The office is dimly lit, the scent of old wood and tobacco curling in the air like something nostalgic.

His silver-gray eyes flick toward you, sharp beneath the low glow of his desk lamp, glint like molten mercury, restless and unreadable, a storm trapped behind glass.

"You're staring, love."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Maybe I'm just waiting for you to choke on that thing."

William chuckles, low and indulgent.

He takes a deep drag, the ember at the tip glowing bright—then, without warning, he exhales, a slow, deliberate puff of smoke curling in your direction.

You flinch, waving a hand in front of your face, and William just grins. Smug. Amused. Infuriating.

"Oh, come now. Don’t be shy. You wanna give it a try?"

You raise a brow. "What?"

Before you can react, he shifts forward, cigar slipping between his teeth. His free hand grips your chin, tilting your face up, and he leans in close—so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

Then, he exhales—slow, steady, intentional—letting the smoke drift past your parted lips.

Your breath stutters. The scent, the warmth—it’s him, invading your senses in a way that’s both dizzying and deliberate. His thumb brushes against your jaw, grounding, teasing.

"That’s it, doll." His voice is all gravel, smooth and rich. "Breathe me in."

For a moment, neither of you move. The space between you is thick—charged. And then, just as quickly, he pulls away, the smug grin still curling at his lips.

The cigar is back between his fingers, like nothing ever happened.

He smirks. "Y'look dazed, love. Want another go?"

You don’t answer. You can’t.

And William? He just laughs.

William makes everything a game, even intimacy. The smoke, the teasing, the touches—they're all deliberate. He wants you to feel it, to be hyper-aware of every single moment with him.

Because that’s what he does.

He leaves traces of himself behind—in smoke, in touches, in the way he looks at you.

[luigilore]

Hey I was wondering if you could write something about lu dating a girl but she’s like insecure about the way she looks bc it’s her first time doing yk 💃🏽🕺🏼(sideways tango). It doesn’t have to be anything too long. Sorry if it’s a weird ask lmao

-🍍

hi babe!! it's not weird at all omg

and lu would be soo good and understanding and gentle… he would be very slow and would really want to help alleviate any nerves u have, would not want you to feel overwhelmed so he would continually check in with you and monitor ur expressions & reactions… and that female pleasure book he had on goodreads (come as you are by emily nagoski) seems like it talks a lot about a holistic outlook to female sexuality and the important context of feeling comfortable, empowered, loved, etc… and i think that would apply here, maybe he even reads that for you, your relationship, and your first time ughh <//3

he knows its such a vulnerable and intimate thing i dont think he would take sex lightly so i think it would mean a lot to him that you’re choosing him to be ur first!!! like ugh he’d be soo in loveee

also would want to do missionary for ur first time and lu would be very encompassing over you so that helps making you feel less exposed. he keeps saying, "it's just me," whispering it as he kisses down your neck to your tits... "so beautiful and all for me." would rlly emphasis to you that it’s just us, just the two of you :’)

[ilovemehfandomz]

Ok hear me out! Corpse bride BUT! Plus like Life series so like my idea is like Scott as Emily or the corpse bride and then like Tango as Victoria and like Jimmy as like Victor maybe? Like can anyone one else see it???