#i wanted to practice side profiles more :3

[loveswirl]

what's an angel to do with a knife besides use it?

[gulliesforever]

silly guys whom i like

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]

[mariasont]

hi hi hi!!! i know you’re working on the bau sleepover buttttt i was wondering if you could write a aaron hotchner x reader fic where like what happened to garcia, reader gets shot and she’s in hospital and they don’t know if she gonna be okay and stuff. her and hotch have this mutual pining for each other and when she gets shot he kinda spirals. after being released, hotch takes her to her apartment and stays with her until they catch him and stuff. i know this is really long, thank you!!!

Some Profiler You Are - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi thank you so so sooo much for requesting <3 i kind of took this a more fluffy route and focused more on the recovery so let me know if you like it :)

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: reader was shot, comfort, angst like a teensy bit, fluff, changing of bandages, kinda shitty ending per usual

wc: 2k

"Do you want to sit down?"

No, you really didn't. After spending the last six hours in a state of near-motionlessness, sprawled across various surfaces, the last thing you wanted was to do was sit down. Your legs had taken on the consistency of overcooked noodles, so you made the grave mistake of misreading the quiet of the house as Hotch's absence, a mistake punctuated by the garage door's sudden rumble.

You should have known better than to assume he would leave you alone for even a second. Now, you were face to face, his scrutinizing eyes boring into yours, arms crossed across his wide chest. He was in a casual zip-up--a rarity that you never imagined him wearing before practically moving in with him. But you really did enjoy this relaxed side of him, he wore it exceptionally well.

Taking work off was a concept you knew was foreign him, yet here he was, not at his desk, hovering over you like a concerned parent. The entire office, yourself included, gaped at him as if he had sprouted a different head when he told them. His next move was even crazier--he insisted you stay with him while you recovered.

You protested. A lot. Shocker. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Again, Shocker.

You winced as you stepped forward, your hands automatically gravitating to the bandage that spanned around your thigh.

"You can't baby me forever, Hotch," you murmured, though your conviction wavered under the dull throb in your leg.

You braced yourself against the counter, trying to mask the discomfort you were sure was etched all over your face.

Filling the shoes of the communications liaison for the FBI post-JJ's shift to profiling, you signed up for a life of managing the media narrative, being the conduit between local and federal levels, and choosing the cases. You provided assistance in ways that aren't glaringly obvious.

What you didn't sign up for is getting shot.

The movies, the stories, even the firsthand accounts from coworkers--none of it could brace you for the raw, blistering pain of a gunshot wound. It fucking hurt. And the recovery? It was a different kind of torture, and you'd even argue that it was worse.

"It's not babying, it's common sense," Hotch countered.

He was frustrated. You had that effect. He stepped closer, his hand dragging down his face. "You took a bullet. It's still in your leg. It's perfectly rational for me to want to prevent any unnecessary strain on you."

"Feels dramatic," you shrugged, but he was right, like always.

Your grip on the counter tightened, knuckles growing white as you struggled to keep the pain under wraps. His brows lifted in response.

"I'm fine, really, Hotch. I hate this. You're probably dying to get back to work--don't let me be the reason you don't. Despite popular belief, I'm quite capable of fending for myself."

"I'm aware," he said, his attention briefly shifting to your bandaged leg. You were wearing shorts, a choice that felt less than appropriate, but practicality trumped formality under these circumstances. "Work will survive without me. I'm not sure I can say the same about you."

Your laughter was short-lived, swiftly turning into a stifled grimace as your footing slipped. Hotch's reflexes were quick, his hands steadying you--one against your ribs, the other just shy above the hem of your shorts.

"Point in case."

"Poking fun at a wounded woman? Shame on you, Hotch," you chided, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. His eyes darted to it momentarily.

He didn't move, his hands staying put, stirring a gentle, jelly-like feeling inside of you.

This was an odd sort of comfort, the kind you're not supposed to feel with your boss. You shouldn't be talking to him like this, shouldn't be in his kitchen, and certainly, his hands shouldn't be where they were. But the ache in your heart didn't seem to care about shoulds and shouldn'ts.

Hotch's presence was hard to ignore. He was reducing the space with every word.

"You're hardly acting like a wounded woman," he pointed out. "You should be in bed."

You tilted your head, sliding onto the barstool to carve some much-needed space between you. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and you needed distance to gather your wits before you did something that HR would definitely not look kindly upon.

The action was a mistake, a fact that became painfully clear as the feeling of something stabbing into your leg took hold. You tried to muster a smile, but you were sure it came across as a snarl. The last thing you wanted was to inflate Hotch's ego by showing that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

"Shit."

You followed his line of sight, landing on the fresh red seeping through the bandage and staining your shorts. Oh. That's not great. Don't think you can fool him with this one.

Hotch didn't hesitate, his response outpacing your own surge of panic, which was incredibly fast, because you were panicking and frankly not that great with blood. His hands were on your skin, easing the hem of your shorts upward to lay bare the wound you had stupidly  underestimated.

You're never going on a date again.

I mean, the only reason you even went was to get your boss of your mind. Since the first day, you'd been hopelessly drawn to him--how could you not be?

But there are a couple factors to consider.

Firstly, he was your boss, and the whole notion of a coercive relationship dynamic seemed problematic.

Secondly, there's the age difference; it had never been an issue for you--perhaps a reflection of your daddy issues--but you knew it would raise some eyebrows.

And thirdly, he didn't even like you back. That was, of course, the biggest issue. If not for this, the other concerns could definitely be overlooked. 

Before this whole incident, he barely acknowledged you beyond was professionally required of him. You knew you hadn't been part of the team long enough to bond--though you weren't sure Hotch did bond in the usual sense, but the point was made.

You were fairly sure you hadn't made much of an impression on him.

"Hold still." That was a tall order, considering it hurt more than a mother fucker.

You found yourself glaring at him--not that he was to blame, but you needed to anchor your frustration on something, or someone. Unknowingly, your grip had latched on the fabric of his zip-up, but he seemed unfazed. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, pressing it against the wound, only furthering the colorful vocabulary going on in your head.

"Fuck, Hotch."

You didn't make a habit of cursing in front of your superior, but the sharp sting forced tears to the brink, your body going rigid as you snapped your eyes shut. 

His other hand found its way to your uninjured thigh, giving it a firm squeeze--a clear attempt to divert your attention. It worked for a second. "I'm sorry, just keep this pressed here, okay?"

He motioned toward the cloth, and you complied, too drained to consider otherwise. Your brows knitted, and you bit into your lip until you tasted something metallicy, your mind desperately racing trying to think of anything other than the blood flowing freely from your thigh.

"Where are you going?" You knew how panicked you sounded as he turned away, stepping towards a cabinet. 

He rummaged briefly before holding up a first aid kit. Catching the brief alarm in your face, he quickly returned to your side, his hand finding the crook of your neck as you instinctively clutched at his shirt once again.

"If you dare say I told you so, I swear, Hotch, fists will fly," you ground out through clenched teeth.

He laughed, and now that did distract you, your eyes zeroing in on his perfect teeth. It was a rare display, and it only served to aggravate you further. Of course he had perfect teeth.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could feel you thinking it," you said, your voice rough as you willed the moisture in your eyes not to fall. "Maybe I should be a profiler."

"Definitely."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." You were lying. Everything suited him. He stepped back, and you reluctantly peered at the wound, only to find a neatly sutured leg. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"In this job, you learn to be handy with more than just a gun.”

You’d love to know what else he’s handy with.

He pulled your leg up to rest on his as he took a seat on the opposite stool.

Your body was buzzing, from the closeness, from his hands on you, and also from the pain, but you were trying to ignore that. He grabs a new bandage from the counter, hands trailing up your thigh so slowly you thought you might pass out. He was so gentle. There was no other word for it.

"How's it feel?"

You paused. Eyes fully locked on his precise movements as he wrapped you up. You were closer than you realized, practically sharing the same breath.

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, and he finished up his task, his hand lightly patting your thigh to show he was done. You didn't move your leg from his lap, and he didn't move his hand.

"I couldn't sleep for three days."

"What?" Your brows were furrowed, your focus sharpening on his face as the words left his lips.

"When I found out you had been shot." He cleared his throat, his thumb making gentle rotations on your calf. "I couldn't close my eyes without seeing red for days. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch who did that to you. I almost did."

You weren't sure how to process this information, or why he was telling you. "You and me both."

"I'm serious." And you could tell he was, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand firmly encircled around your leg. You felt a lump in your throat form as heat rose from your neck to your ears. "Do you know what that was like? I felt like my heart stopped."

"Why?"

"Why?" It was more a scoff than a word. He blew out a breath, his fingers pinching into the space between his eyebrows. "Is it not obvious?"

Your heart was beating a lot faster. You wanted to say something, anything but your throat was dry and every time you opened your mouth you found it snapping shut.

Hotch's expression softened ever so slightly, his voice low and bouncing off the walls as he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you."

Your breath stalled, as if every ounce of oxygen had been vacuumed from your lungs. The air felt heavy, almost tangible.

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat.

"That's not funny," you said. It wasn't. You weren't in the mood for jokes, and your brain couldn't comprehend he might be telling the truth. "You...you don't even notice me."

He shook his head. "I notice everything about you." His thumb stilled on your calf. "I'm your boss," he said, as if that explained everything. "There are rules, protocols. I couldn't...I still shouldn't..."

The confession stripped the room of its warmth, leaving a raw aching silence in its wake. You searched his face.

"When you got shot," he continued, "I realized that if I lost you, I'd regret not telling you how I feel for the rest of my life."

"Hotch, I..."

He leaned closer, causing your words to catch in your throat. His hand moved from your leg to your face. You were speechless, the world narrowing down to the man in front of you, to his eyes, the warmth of his hands.

"Say something."

"Are you kidding me?" Your heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from your chest. "I've been in love with you since I started. How could you not see that?"

He looked taken aback, as if your words were the last thing he expected. "Well—,"

But you didn't let him finish. "Some profiler you are."

You were practically climbing into his lap, hands framing his face, pulling your lips to his.

He chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. "Easy," he murmured, "don't make me fix that bandage again."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee. "Shut up, Hotch."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[incognit0slut]

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[cupidkenji]

Doctor, Doctor, please listen!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Tension (I tried), cursing, the smallest physical description of reader in the last portion (just mentions their stomach going over their pants), reader has scars from previous cases, rivals to lovers?, lmk if i'm missing smth Summary: 3 times you called him doctor, 3 times he wonders why. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but I don't really ever describe their bodies that much cause it's x READER and every body has a different body <3 WC: 3,596 I am literally so obsessed with criminal minds somebody save my soul OBLIVOUS IDIOTS WHO WANT EACH OTHER MY BELOVED. Title from mad hatter by Melanie Martinez don't even @ me for that

1.

“...she will be an important part of making your team function quicker. We fought hard to get her here. I ask that you all treat her with respect and not make me intervene.” 

Strauss finished her introductory spiel with a familiar “mom-glare” towards the team, walking away once she finished her speech. Unfortunately, her departure left you standing alone in front of the most intimidating man you’ve ever seen and four of his team members. You had been practically still until now. You hated the pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, causing a general freeze response to the stress of a new team. Fawn, you thought, the newest addition to the fight or flight categories and also the lovely thing forcing you to practically disassociate in front of your new boss and co-workers. 

“Welcome, Dr. L/N. We’ve heard good things. I’m Aaron Hotchner, I supervise the team.” He was leaning on the table before he stepped forward to shake your hand as he spoke. “This is Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid.” He pointed towards the corresponding people as he spoke of them. “Agent Rossi is away right now, and you’ll meet our T.I. later…she’s been excited.” If you hadn’t been good at your job, you’re sure you would have missed the way his lips turned up slightly at the edges when mentioning the woman. He didn’t seem so scary anymore, more like a father of the team. You’d been expecting a drill sergeant - your last team leader could have given a bull a run for it’s money with how much aggression that guy had. You welcomed the rush of excitement you felt at the discovery, mentally shaking off the stiffness you were carrying. 

“I’m happy to be here, sir. I’ve heard good things about the team, too. Your boss seems to think highly of your capabilities.” You addressed the room as you spoke. Public speaking was a skill you were still trying to master, so you practiced whenever you could. 

Your statement earned a chuckle from the table. Nobody bothered to explain the reason. You figured it was too much history to sum up on the spot. Your eyes wanted to linger on Reid. He seemed so young, and you wondered if he’d been told that his entire career - lord knows you had too. A fellow doctor. You assumed he was a bit of a stickler about the title, as even his boss kept it tacked onto his name when introducing him. You’d originally hoped to find some comfort in the man, on the surface he seemed a lot like you. He was probably too smart for his own good as well. Given the way he was staring at you, though, you felt the realization sink in that the man had no intention of welcoming you. 

“Why exactly do we need another profiler?” His voice held no malice as he spoke in the direction of his boss. There was more curiosity in his voice than anything, however you did pick up on the sense of superiority that sat just beneath the surface of his words. You guessed that’s how he behaved generally - as though he was superior. Still, your head tilted slightly to the side at the question. 

Damn. Tough crowd. 

You saw the intake of breath in Hotchner as he prepared to defend your place here but you spoke before he could start. “While I am a profiler, sir, first and foremost I am a psychiatrist - a doctor. As I’m sure you heard from Strauss, the board is unhappy with your recent efficiency rates and would also like to aid your team in dealing with mental health crises. I’ve spent my entire life studying the effects and conditions of the mentally diseased brain. I’ll be able to tell you the most efficient and effective way of interacting with these individuals, along with more accurately predicting their actions and methodology. I’m an agent, I took the same oath everyone here did but I was brought here for my expertise.” You were on a bit of a tangent, you knew that, but something about the smug feel of the man forced an emergence of competitiveness. He looked at you so indifferent, and you couldn’t help the tiny sparks of anger lighting beneath your skin. You kept a friendly disposition towards the man - you were a professional, after all, not a teenager - but you sensed a rivalry sprouting it’s roots.

The others at the table suppressed their smiles or looked down to hide it. Nobody had ever challenged Spencer like that. They could all feel he was a tad bit territorial. He was the guy people went to when they needed to know something. He was the Doctor of the group. They didn’t think he would take too kindly to another one encroaching his land. They saw the way he was tense, even more so after you responded. It was a riveting sight, though. The lot of them saw Spencer as a younger brother, and him meeting his match was something they were all so excited to see.

“Play nice, pretty boy.” Derek muttered to him, Spencer was slightly slouched in his chair now, not losing sight of you. Derek followed suit, turning his attention towards you. “We’re glad to have you, Doctor. We’ve spoken about an addition like you before, I’m glad to see the higher ups finally listened. I look forward to working with you - excuse me.” He left once his phone rang. 

The others took his exit as an excuse for their own, everyone giving you a warm welcome as they left. You reciprocated happily, telling everyone they could just call you by your first name, never having been one for titles. ‘There’s one difference.’ You thought, even your internal dialogue was bitter. Aside from him, there was a warmth here that you had been desperate to find in your last team. If you had to work passive aggressively with one uptight man in exchange for a team like this - you were going to take that deal. 

He refused to leave it seemed. He just sat looking inquisitively at the table, occasionally extending his stare to look at you before returning. How did you two end up alone in this room?

“Are you gonna have a problem with me, Doctor?” You shifted slightly on your feet. A notoriously nervous sign, one he definitely picked up on.

He stared again. It was his mind that kept him rooted in his seat. You were fucking alluring. He’d never met someone so like himself in his line of work. He was being a dick and he knew it but it seemed to be instinctual - some type of precaution, maybe. He didn’t know why you were being so respectful. Doctor. God, he didn’t know if the title had ever sounded so good being directed at him. His frustration only rose as he thought on the issue more. He wasn’t welcoming, it would be so easy to drop the formality, something he knew you knew would get on his nerves. But you didn’t. It didn’t seem like a question of dignity. You didn’t seem like the type to refuse a little pettiness - he sure wasn’t the type either. A thought stirred, an unsafe one he wanted to squash immediately but one he also couldn’t help but lean into. Did you want a power imbalance?

“No.” He stood abruptly, obviously still focused on the thoughts in his head. “Welcome to the team.” He addressed you one last time and then walked out of the room.

You followed shortly after, ready to make home on your couch and be done with being the newbie for the day. Your stress would follow you home, though, as the last thing you heard before you left the building was “Oh my god they’re perfect for each other.”

2.

The first few weeks were always the hardest. This was something you knew and were prepared for but it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’d been on countless missions having worked this job for a while now, but this was an entirely new dynamic to learn. You were an outsider for the first time in four years and it was scary. This case was shaping up to be a rough one, too. A man was having delusions telling him to kill. An extremely rare manifestation of his Schizophrenia, only elevated by the newly acquired aspect of him being an insomniac. 

Spencer hadn’t ceased being headstrong in cases either. Every time you wanted to help he made it his mission to overcompensate in order to snuff you out. On the contrary, he’d warmed up to you a little. It wasn’t major, he barely held any positive feelings toward you, but barely was better than not at all, so you coped. You two had managed a couple small talk conversations outside the battle of one-upping that you were currently losing. You absolutely hated it, but you liked him. You liked him a lot, actually. You don’t know when in the past few days that anger morphed into fondness but it had shifted hard. The casual dominance he exuded drew you in like a porchlight lures a moth. You doubted the opposite proved true for him, and that stung. You came to enjoy the banter, the competition, even if you were always playing the losing hand. It was the only way to get his undivided attention and the feeling of his eyes on you started to follow you home. 

You thought a lot about how you could get the relationship to pivot into something better. You didn’t want to be the girl he bickered with at work. You didn’t know what it was you wanted but you knew that your current fate sounded horrid. He was an ass, though, and he did not make it easy to admit those feelings. Every time he undermined you, you grew more attached and also more angry at yourself for doing so. It was because he’s so much like you, you thought. You knew from the way he interacted with his team that he wasn’t a cold guy, didn’t hold malice towards people for no reason. He needs time. He needs to know you, and God how badly you wanted to know him. 

You had sustained good relations with everyone the past few weeks you’ve been here. Meeting Garcia and Rossi had been a treat - both of them being delightful company. You’d heard them whispering about you and Spencer when they thought you weren’t around. The whole team seems to think that you’re basically fated to be together. It was unnerving how comforting that thought was to you. You hoped they were right. 

Spencer hoped they were right too. He’d heard the same whispers you had, chastising the team when he got the chance as if he didn’t think about you every moment he could. His eyes seemed to naturally land on you if you were around. He watched you walk around the bureau more and more lately, enjoying the gained confidence in your step as you cemented your place in the team. The sway of your hips or the swing of your arms. You mesmerized him no matter what you did. One time he got so caught up in his thoughts of you that Prentiss had to check he wasn’t having a silent panic attack. He clung to his sense of resentment, tried so hard to remind himself of the feelings he had when he first met you - you were beautiful, of course you were - but you were on claimed land and he was anything but eager for you to make home on it. That had faded fast, seeing how kind you were, scrambling to help and earn respect from everyone. The only reason he kept up the act of  “man who wants you gone” was so that he could keep talking to you. Spencer was a genius but he didn’t know how to handle someone like you. He’d been interested in girls before, hell he’d had girlfriends before but it had never felt like this in such little time. Such intense infatuation was crippling for someone who’s brain worked in patterns - this was new ground for him. 

“Everybody suit up. We have Foster’s location and we need to move quickly. He’s going after the source of his rage and we don’t have time to spare.” Hotch came down the stairs two at a time, spurring the team into action. 

“This man is highly dangerous but also highly deluded. The cases I’ve read similar to this say it’s best to speak gently. He’s sick but he can be reasoned with.” Spencer pulls from his memory as he sets his ‘FBI’ vest into place on his chest. 

“No, not this time. This man is too severe, his mind is too far gone. If these hallucinations of his are strong enough for him to touch them it’ll be extremely easy for him to rearrange or imagine your words differently. You need to be loud, direct, and assertive. Speak as little as possible. The quieter you are, the easier it will be for him to change what you’re saying in his head.” You also spoke while putting your vest on. You didn’t carry a weapon - a personal vow of yours, as you were more than classified to - so there were no holsters to fill. The contradictions between the two doctors of the team made everyone hesitate even though they lacked the time to do so.

Spencer looked at you, slightly out of breath from working so quickly. “You’re questioning my memory?” 

“I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor. I’m questioning your sources. There’s a higher risk level if we do what you’re suggesting. Let me do my job.” You made the final adjustments to your attire as you finished speaking. You returned his eye contact for just a beat too long, letting the others rush out of the building while you stood your ground, the two of you begrudgingly following after them a moment later.

You had been assigned a different car than him for the ride over. ‘Thank God’ was the only thing you could think when you saw him heading to the other SUV. After another confrontation - another public one, at that - you weren’t sure you could handle being pressed leg to leg with him in the backseat. Your words were a looping record in his head as he rode towards Foster. They were about to attempt a hostage negotiation with a man seeing people who weren’t there but all he could think about was that fucking word you refused to drop. 

I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor

You had to be doing this on purpose, he thought. He originally believed this had started because you knew stripping him of his beloved title would cause irritation. Now he suspected you knew how badly he wanted his name in your mouth and this was your way of torturing him. ‘It’s working.’ He thought. God was it working. He agreed with his team, you were perfect for him. You had knowledge to match his, kept him on his toes. One time the start of a ramble slipped through his “I don’t like you” façade and he felt his heart speed up at the genuine interest that roused in your eyes. You wanted to know him and he was an idiot for all the shit he was doing. 

He wasn’t surprised when your strategy worked and Ben Foster was taken into custody. You were the one to talk him down, and if you hadn’t already been accepted to the team, he knew then and there that they needed you. You were flawless. He knew you’d been doing this as long as he had and it showed. He pleaded with himself to stay focused, zeroed in on the weight of the gun in his hand to save face. His mind never left you, though, much like his eyes. This was the expertise you spoke of - no wonder they fought hard to get you here. 

“You were excellent in there.” It was just the two of you now. Even in the dull, flashing police lights, you were breathtaking. “Good job.” He said. Then he walked away because he was on the brink of kissing you and didn’t feel like breaking about 18 workplace rules while at the scene of a crime. You wouldn’t have been complaining if he did.

3.

Every time something like this happened it was difficult to remind yourself that not carrying a weapon was a choice you made willingly. You were currently sitting in the back of an open ambulance, about to be hoisted onto a stretcher and driven to the ER for stitches. You’ve been with the BAU for almost 3 months now and have miraculously managed to avoid injury in that time. This had been one of the easier cases. No chases or clues to follow, just a sick man who left a fairly obvious paper trail. You were the speaker on almost all cases. You were in charge of de-escalating a situation, making sure the bomb didn’t blow. You’ve never carried a weapon, always preferring to take the wounds of a job over using a gun to back up your words. You were a psychiatrist, you wanted to make people better, not vilify them. It worked, usually. People did tend to trust you more when you were unarmed. This time, though, it got you stabbed.

It wasn’t a bad injury, the blood had already stopped and was mildly dry by the time Spencer was joining you. Just one more scar to your collection. It was to the side of your quad, missing any artery by miles and just serving as a pain source at this point. A little numbing and some stitches and you’d be right as rain is what the doctor in the ambulance had said. 

“What happened?” He spoke softly to you. There wasn’t a rivalry between you two, not really. The banter hadn’t stopped, but it changed. It was playful and actually fun now. The both of you weren’t obsessed with outdoing the other anymore. Some casual boastfulness and a budding friendship is where you were at with him currently. 

“I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

He exhaled like he couldn’t comprehend the stupidity of your answer. You laughed at that. One enjoyable pastime you’d picked up in the past month was trying to bewilder him. The EMT said he needed to check the rest of your body for injury despite your protest of such a procedure. It was typical and you knew that, but you held onto the fear of your own body that middle school gave you. There was a man you liked here, and the thought of him seeing the bit of stomach that hung outside the waistline of your pants scared you more than you thought it would. You forced yourself to be rational in spite of this. It was Spencer, you wanted to be seen by him. 

“Holy shit.”

You chuckled at that. You forgot that maybe a warning was in order for the amount of scars that littered your stomach.

“Probably should have told you about those.” There were dozens. You amassed a countless amount of scars over the course of your job. Stab wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks. Unsubs, as much as you tried to empathize, were often violent at the end of the day and usually lashed out before they could be helped. 

He was staring - well, gazing more like. Not like someone stares at a car accident on the freeway but instead how someone stares at the moon - awe. He was in awe of you. Your strength, your courage, the fact that you went through all these individual events and still chose not to arm yourself. Some of these were in places that could have been fatal, and he thanked whatever entity may be listening that you persevered, begged them to continue that streak. He crashed hard into the desire to touch you, to run his hands over what little of your past he could see. He wondered if you would let him. If you’d fit into his palms the way he thought you would - if that was something you even wanted. The EMT was gone by now, having moved to the passenger seat for the ride to the hospital. 

“Could I - " He hesitated for a moment, this was definitely the wrong question to ask. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes glazed over slightly. Jesus. You felt your lips part a little.

“You want to?” Genuine surprise. You didn’t think you looked particularly desirable in your current state. He wanted to touch your fucking scars. Who does he think he is?

“Please.” He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes were glazed over too. You held his eyes as you nodded. The heat was so stifling that you laughed just a little at the tension.

“Fucking hell, Spence.”

Blood shot to his ears when you said his name. It had been well worth the wait to hear you say it like that - breathy and confused and so fucking pretty that he wondered how he ever lived before you said it. 

“Will you tell me about them?” He was breathy too, but he wouldn’t have you here, not like this. He just needed to feel you. 

“I’ll tell you anything you want, Doc.”

His hands were warm. It wouldn’t be the last time you felt them.

[shurisasthmaticgf]

wait a damn minute: max verstappen x black fem! reader

summary: in the midst of the biggest worldwide IT outage you realize your name has come up at the worst time possible

author's note: i wrote this on friday when the entire thing happened, i thought i posted it but turns out it was camped out in my drafts still. this is my first max fic so i hope it's an enjoyable read! feedback and comments are always appreciated and highly encouraged, i like to know what you all think of my work!

warnings: google translated dutch

the hungarian grand prix was only days away and you couldn't wait to surprise your boyfriend with a visit. it killed you to miss his races but you'd recently been promoted to a new position in your company which required more days in office than remote. you'd managed to balance work and personal life pretty well but when you weren't missing due to your new job, you had something else happen last minute. finally, after weeks of working long hours on end in an office, you were in the clear to start remote working more frequently.

you managed to clock out of work right on time so the minute the clock hit 6:00 pm, you were logging out and grabbing your already packed bag. one of your coworkers passed by you in the elevator, he was the only one around your age in the entire department so immediately you both clicked. he lightly bumped you with his shoulder and commented, "three side profiles and a headshot or selfie." you furrowed your brows in confusion and he clarified, "photo requests for my husband of course." the two of you burst into laughter as you teased, "was the autographed photocard not enough for you, théo? i even decorated it and put it in a holder for your desk." the young man smiled fondly thinking of the small 3x4 inch card that sat on the corner of his main monitor. he brushed one of his locs from his face and dramatically sighed, "fine i won't be pushy...i only want the selfie." you shook your head and refused with a chuckle, "i'm not asking toto wolff for a selfie, théo." your coworker let out a fake sigh of disappointment and lightly pushed you in the other direction as you parted ways to your cars. you laughed and called out, "i'll see what i can do, no promises though!" his face lit up and he blew your air kisses before calling out a goodnight.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

just thinking about seeing your boyfriend racing again brought butterflies to your stomach. although he was doing well this season a few problems had cost him a few wins here and there. fans had jokingly mentioned that you not being at races was the cause of the missed first place wins because coincidentally, every race you've ever attended, max has won exactly that. for weeks fans have asked about your whereabouts and you'd practically ghosted them simply because you were working so much. you were known as one of the more down to earth f1 WAGs who had no problem interacting with fans in person and over social media. so you suddenly not showing up for max and not interacting with people online made them wonder what was going on with you during the past few weeks. now that work had chilled out, you were happy to be back online again, and even happier to be able to make it out to hungary this weekend.

the moment you stepped into your apartment you made a beeline for your bedroom to change out of your professional clothes. you snatched a pair of scissors, a spray bottle, conditioner, a towel, a comb, and a crumpled up paper bag and cozied up on the couch with shrek queued on the tv. you sprayed your head with the warm water in the bottle and spread a glob of conditioner all over the roots of your hair. you pulled one of your braids forward and snipped the end before unraveling it and picking out whatever knots formed in the 6 weeks your hair had been tucked away. thankfully this time it didn’t take too long to get your braids out, only 3 hours compared to the usual 5 when you didn’t have your boyfriend’s help.

right as the last strands of synthetic hair slipped out of your own curls, your phone rang the familiar tune and a picture of your boyfriend flashed on your screen. a warm smile spread across your face as his camera turned on to show face. you braided you hair on each side to get it out of your face as you spoke, “hi my love how was your day?” he rolled over to his side and grumbled sleepily, “long, usual press day so you know how that goes.” you frowned slightly, “i wish i was there with you today.” max hummed and admitted, “i do as well. but your work is more important so i can deal with this.” you watched as his eyes lingered on your face and you giggled while moving out of the frame shyly, “stop looking at me like that.” although it was dimly lit in hotel room you could see the light pink tint to his cheeks as he smiled, “i can’t admire my lovely girlfriend?” he yawned mid sentence and you insisted, “as much as i love talking to you i know you’re tired and you need to go to sleep. so i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” he sleepily agreed and murmured, “welterusten mijn liefste.” you blew him a kiss and whispered softly, "goodnight baby." [goodnight, my love]

instead of heading straight to sleep you chose to wash your hair rather than waiting until the morning to do so. the flight you managed to snag last minute to hungary was set for tomorrow evening and you hadn't packed anything. not wanting to get onto a plane with a damp head of coils, you decided to just deal with it tonight. the entire process didn't take as long since you were speeding through just so you could sleep. by the time you were done it was around 2 AM and you were more than happy with the results. a dozen thick twists hung past your shoulders until you wrapped them up into a scarf and covered them with your bonnet to head to bed.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

when you woke up in the morning you noticed your phone had over 50 missed calls, messages, and emails. your mind conjured up the worst possible thoughts as you called your boyfriend to see what was the matter. max answered on the first few rings and you anxiously stammered, "baby? maxie? what's going on are you okay? where are you?" on the other line max answered clearly confused on what you were talking about, "schat? i am fine, i'm heading to the track. nothing is wrong here, what are you talking about?" you started to calm down realizing that he was fine but you responded, "i thought- didn't you blow up my phone early this morning? i was worried something happened and-" your boyfriend interjected with a calm tone, "y/n, i promise you nothing is the matter-"

an incoming call from théo, your coworker cut max off and you spoke up, "i'm sorry i think it's work related because théo is calling me." max let out an annoyed sound and you laughed, "i don't get why you don't like him." max scoffed, "he is too touchy and handsy with you." there was a playful groan, "oh god here you go- max, we've been over this. théo is a 27 year old gay man from san francisco who's convinced he's princess diana's reincarnate. he's the least of your worries okay?" max conceded, "okay fine i guess...but i still have my eye on him." another call from théo interrupted your conversation and you added, "but he's blowing up my phone so i need to see what's wrong. i'll talk to you later okay?" max agreed and bid you goodbye before hanging up the phone.

meanwhile you answered théo's call and he was literally running through what looked like the parking garage of his high rise. he panted, "you- you nee-...oh god i'm out of shape- you need to get up right now.. i'll be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes so be ready downstairs." you looked around confused and your coworker/ friend explained, "there's some massive outage or something happening. i know we had off today but they're calling the entire office in to see if we can figure it out." you were already climbing out of bed and you pressed for more information, "what do you mean an outage?" théo shrugged and wiped sweat from his brow as he tried to make himself look less winded, "i dunno i was thinking a breach or something? whatever it is we'll find out but we gotta go right now babes." you hurriedly grabbed an outfit from your closet and started to get dressed and ready to go, keeping him on the line.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

when you finally managed to get to his car, théo pointed to your phone and told you, "check twitter too, the fans are making jokes that you did something to the platform." despite having no idea what the hell he was talking about you opened twitter to see the flood of tweets under your name on the trending topics list. a pit formed in your stomach and you nearly fainted when you realized what he was talking about. you were completely new to this job and panic coursed through your veins on the thought of losing everything you worked hard for. the look of panic drew a laugh from your best friend and coworker as he jested, "they're funny aren't they?!" you shook your head and nearly shouted, "no it's not i'm gonna get fired!" théo waved off your concern, "girl the issue is definitely not from you and nobody thinks so. besides, dante from marketing and eleni from HR were sending the funny ones to our group chat...not that this isn't serious but just to make light of a shitty situation you know?" you shifted in your seat unsure how to feel and he promised, "i guarantee it's fine."

when you actually got to work with théo you were pulled into a meeting where you all were briefed about the situation. they clarified that they knew it was an issue with an update that was sent out early in the morning. after the meeting your boss told you that he knew you weren't supposed to be working today but you did need to stay and potentially over the weekend as well to help your team mitigate the issue as much as you all could. despite it being a global issue and not directly an issue from the monaco office, you knew that he meant he needed you there to help deploy the solution when it came through. he let you have a fifteen minute break to rearrange your travel plans and make the cancellations you needed before having you start work.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the work day ended later than usual, the later hours were spent at your home office while you were on meetings with other people on your team. luckily you were able to catch up with the results of max's first and second practice sessions through peeking at live updates while you worked. when you got the okay to clock out, you nearly fell asleep on your desk but waking back up when your boyfriend's ringtone jump scared you.

you kept your head on the desk as you opened the video call, "hey you." max's features softened when he noticed the look of exhaustion on your face, "it was that bad huh?" you gave a silent thumbs up and sighed, "i wish it didn't happen...i was so excited to come surprise you and finally be there to see you again. i'm sorry i can't make it work." max rushed to your defense, "er zijn nog genoeg andere races over in het seizoen, je kunt in plaats daarvan naar die races komen kijken." you let out an annoyed groan, "i know but i wanted to be there this time. now you'll have bad luck." max chuckled at the mention of the running joke of you being his lucky charm, "it's alright. don't worry your pretty little head about me. now come on let's go to sleep, i know you're tired." you shuffled your feet against your bedroom floor as you took your phone with you to get ready for the night. [there are plenty of other races left in the season, you can come and watch those races instead.]

as you lay in bed with your lights off max asked, "did you see they asked me about you today?" you hummed a soft, "nuh uh." he smiled at the memory and explained, "i was in an interview and they mentioned that your name was trending on twitter and asked if i saw it. i only saw that your name was trending but i didn't see what for so they told me fans made jokes that you crashed the mercedes, mclaren, and williams servers so that i could win this weekend." a sleepy smile crossed your lips and you asked, "what'd you say?" he turned over in his bed and answered, "i told them it wasn't you because you don't make mistakes in your work. you're too good at what you do. also that you aren't the one that sends out the updates so people don't need to use your name in a bad light." you grinned wider already knowing what he was going to say, "and how did that go over?" max let out an sigh and small chuckle, "the guys have been making fun of me all night for it." you let out the loudest laugh max has heard from you in weeks making him somewhat more fine with getting teased by his friends.

your laughter subsided and you told him, "tell me about something interesting." max thought for a moment then started rambling on about the geologic history of the netherlands, watching as your eyes started to droop with the passing minutes. falling asleep with your boyfriend still on the phone became a habit especially in the early days of you dating. but now you were spending more time with him that occurrences like this just started happening once more, leaving you missing his presence at night. as for now, this was the best you could get.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the end.

[imaginesbymonika]

Not a violent dog | Last Part

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade's world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven't written in A WHILE so bear with me

Previous Part | Masterlist

For a while neither one of you says a single word. You both just gaze at the water, while your heart beats at an ungodly pace. You look and observe how the ducks are gliding - fast asleep.

"I'm sorry.", Logan eventually speaks out and you can feel how he looks at your side profile:" I'm sorry if me being here makes you uncomfortable." And you know he isn't talking about the bench, or what took place in the apartment.

You take a deep breath:" It's not your fault. I mean- It kinda is, but then again it's not." God, this whole situation was making you feel light-headed. A soft but low chuckle escapes him, and you could melt on the spot. " From what l've heard he was one hell of a dick- which feels on brand for me." You don't answer him. There is this lump forming in the center of your throat that won't let any noise leave your lips. "I'm sorry my other me did what he did.", he whispers, voice laced with honesty:" You didn't deserve that."

And that's all it takes for you to break into tears again.You hide your face in your hands and move forward until your elbows make contact with your knees.

You always knew that it would catch up on you one day-that he would catch up on you. Not in the flesh, but more like as a feeling. A noise or a scent. And Logan's heart breaks at the sight in front of him. Delicate but shaky small sobs escape your throat, and you just really really want everything to stop. "Hey.", Logan whispers again, while his hand hesitantly reaches out for you again. Only now it finds its way to your back and while it draws soothing loops on your back you inevitably lean into his touch.

After a few minutes, you slowly sit back up straight. Your hands lift to wipe your tears away and when you rotate to finally look at him you can catch a glimpse of the wet spots underneath his eyes. Looking at you with so much devotion, it's almost suffocating you. "I just don't know-", you simply say:" I don't know why he left the way he did."

"He-", Logan pauses for a second before licking his lips:" Wade told me that he got killed, right? I don't know much else about him, but he probably tried to shield you from those people. I know that's what I would've done." The last part is practically a whisper, and he probably said it primarily to himself, but you nonetheless heard it.

Your once angry eyes turn gentle:" Is there a version of-of me in your world?"

"Was.", the man in front of you quickly adds:" You died on a mission, right in my arms. There wasn't much anyone could've done for you, the mutant killing bullet hit your chest as if it was nothing.” , he takes a deep breath and looks into the chilly air. His eyes move from one star to the next:" I don't know much about your Logan, or any other Logan who exists out there- but I strongly believe that everything we do is to keep you safe. I mean... look at you." He moves his head to the side to peek at you, and a painful but cocky smile materializes on his features- so on brand:" I don't think there's one single universe out there in which you're not as gorgeous as you are right now."

You simply shake your head but can't help the blush that begins to lay over your cheeks. "I promise you, his last thought was probably your face." His words once again bring a new set of tears to your eyes and you swallow thickly:" And dying in your arms, God... I cannot imagine a better place." Logan chuckles softly while he wipes his eyes. He lowers his hands into his lap as you shift closer to take one of them into your own:" I know she wouldn't want you to blame yourself. I- I wouldn't want that."

"I'm not her, at least not entirely.", you begin and squeeze his much larger hand:" And this is probably such a strange thing to ask, but- but would you maybe like to grab a coffee with me sometime? Start over again?" Logan looks up and when you two meet eyes it's as if all air gets knocked out of his lungs. Because that's how his Y/N asked him out all those decades ago. He only nods and the hold on your hand tightens:" Yeah, l'd love that."

[rcsewcrld]

Hi Rose! I’ve just found your profile and saw you’re accepting requests so here you go:

Poly!wolfstar or poly!marauders where reader is completely in love with them but thinks they don’t like her back. When they confess their love for her she doesn’t believe because she thinks that what they have is already perfect and she doesn’t have a place in it. It takes them a lot of effort to make her believe it. Lots of angst with happy ending

really? || poly!wolfstar x fem!reader | 1.5k words

a/n: hi so this is very cliche and possibly very bad bc i’m very out of practice so i hope you appreciate that and i hope that this is what you wanted. i promise my writing will get better once i get back into the swing of things! also, thank you very much for requesting and i’m so sorry i took so long, something came up but that’s slowing down now so i’m back to it! also i’m really sorry it’s not very angsty but i just wasn’t in that frame of mind i’m so so so so sorry :(

content: as gn as possible but some fem hints in there sorry (im just too used to it :((), minimal use of y/n and pronouns, also bridgerton reference guys😭

“S’wrong, darling?” James queried at your spaced out expression during breakfast in the Great Hall. 

You shrug, “Dunno, James.” The bespectacled boy furrowed his brows but was soon distracted by something Peter was showing him on his other side. You did, in fact, know what was wrong. The two boys sitting opposite you were the bane of your existence this morning. They were also the object of your desires.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Best friends of 6, coming up to 7 years and boyfriends of 3 months. The most painful, yearning, pining 3 months of your life. The relationship between you, Sirius and Remus had always been ambiguous between the lines of platonic and romantic, but one fateful morning Sirius and Remus walked towards you in the corridor, holding hands and exuding a sickeningly sweet air of love.

“Earth to Y/n/n… you okay, sweetness?” Dark grey eyes locked with yours, pairing with the saccharine nickname you couldn’t help but smile dreamily at him. 

“Mhm,” you mumbled, “M’fine, Siri.”

“Good. Couldn’t have you spaced out like this all day,” he furrowed his dark eyebrows, “would never get through Potions if I didn’t have my lovely partner to talk to.” He finished with a wink that almost had you melting into a puddle on the stone floor. Peter and James shared a look at your, somewhat pathetic, lovesickness. 

“Ready to go then? Lessons start in 5 minutes.” Remus interrupted the charged gazing between you and Sirius.

“Of course you’d be the one to make us prudishly early, Moons.” Sirius stood up alongside Remus, clapping him on the back harshly as they started to walk off, followed closely by you, James and Peter.

“5 minutes is not prudishly early, Pads…”

———

“Ms Y/L/N, daydreaming again?” Slughorn’s voice broke you out of your stare. Your task today was to brew a successful amortentia potion. Sirius, eager as ever to discover the smell of what he loves, bounded up to the storage cupboard to collect all your ingredients. Also, something about ‘What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady lift a finger under my watch?’

“Sorry, professor. Sirius is getting all the equipment so I just zoned out for a moment. Won’t happen again.” You visibly straightened up and put on your best apologetic voice, because you really weren’t sorry at all. You had been ogling Sirius. His shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of smooth, pale skin, his shirt tightening slightly at his arms where his lean muscles were bulging slightly with the strain of stretching. He was visibly far less built-up than someone such as James who was nothing short of stocky, but being a beater still took lots of arm power.

As Professor Slughorn migrated back to his desk, Sirius came back over to your workbench, albeit, more carefully than he left it, as he was now carrying an abundance of supplies ready to begin brewing.

“Siri, y’know I could’ve helped you?” 

“Don’t sweat it, love.” He brushed it off.  

You began brewing the potion and it was going smoothly. (As much as Sirius tried his hardest to be a nuisance in class, he’d never purposefully sabotage you)

A pop from across the classroom made you a jump a little and averted your’s and Sirius’ attentions to James and Remus on the other side of the room. Remus was scoffing and rolling his eyes as James’ face was covered in soot, hair standing up on end. 

“Poor Moony.” You tutted, focusing back on your own potion. Originally, Remus had been partners with Lily, no complaints, perfect work, until Slughorn decided that James and Peter being a pairing was far too chaotic and forced Remus and Lily to re-partner, to quell the chaos caused by James and Peter’s pairing.

“He’ll be alright.” Sirius chuckled as you sprinkled the final ingredient into the brew.

You watched as the potion turned a pinkish colour and turned to Sirius with a pleased smile, “It worked!” He held his hand up for a high five that you quickly returned. 

“Ready to take a whiff, Black? Y/L/N?” Slughorn said as he approached your workbench. You both nodded and Sirius pushed you forward. The entire class had gone quiet, attention on your bench. You took a deep breath in over the cauldron.

First, cigarettes, and a deep, musky aftershave that was awfully familiar.

After a few moments it morphed into the scent of a crackling fireplace, new books and… chocolate.

“So? What do you smell?” Slughorn queried.

You broke out of your trance, glancing around the classroom at all of the pairs of eyes staring at you, awaiting an answer, specifically Sirius and Remus. The two people you had definitely just smelled, “Uh, um- I smelled,” You didn’t know whether to lie or not, “um, flowers?”

James snorted a laugh from across the room, quickly shutting up after a harsh elbow to the ribs from Remus.

“Care to elaborate?” Slughorn raised a questioning eyebrow. You shook your head vehemently and stepped back towards Sirius’ chest, who hurriedly took your place, eager to smell the potion.

“Books… chocolate,” Sirius paused to wink at Remus who glared at him, embarrassed, “…and, vanilla?”

Your eyes widened at that and you sucked in a very audible sharp breath, reminded of the vanilla perfume that you apply rather generously every morning. Sirius locked eyes with Remus across the room, sharing a look that meant We’ll talk later.

Slughorn clapped his hands to diffuse the awkward tension and called on Barty Crouch Jr’s workbench.

———

“Marls, I can’t just tell them I like them. I don’t wanna impose on what they already have together…” You huffed, pulling your knees up to your chest. Marlene wandered over from her bed and sat down next to you.

“Babe, I love you, but you are so oblivious.” She lamented.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“She really has no idea does she…?” Lily sighed from her bed.

“Those two boys are hopelessly in love with you, Y/N. And if you can’t see that then you are oblivious. Sirius’ amortentia smelled like you and Remus. The boy he’s already in a relationship with.”

“That could’ve been anyone’s vanilla perfume.” You shrugged, certain that the boys couldn’t want you in any way.

Lily rolled her eyes, “Tell them, Y/N.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth anxiously but nodded in agreement, “Wish me luck, girls.”

You trudged down the stairs to the common room, head low and anxiety swarming your brain.

“What’re you doing down here so late, darling?” 

You jumped at the voice, not expecting anyone to be occupying the common room at such a late hour. You looked up to find just the two boys you were looking for… Sirius splayed dramatically (somehow) in an armchair and Remus curled up into the corner of a couch.

“Oh, hi guys…”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, dovey!” Remus feigned offence and caused you to roll your eyes. You don’t know why you were so nervous. These guys were your best friends. Even if they rejected you they’d never stop wanting to be friends with you. Remus patted the space on the sofa next to him, indicating you to sit there and you obliged.

“Actually, I’ll have you know I was looking for you two.” 

“Oh, really?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

Here goes nothing.

“I like you guys. Like in the not friendly way. And I totally get if you don’t feel the same way and don’t want me to join you guys, ‘cause I don’t even know if you’re into that, but I just wanted to tell you because it’s been eating me up inside-“

“Shut up.”

“Sirius!” Remus scolded, smacking his boyfriend on the arm with the book he was holding. You remained silent, eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to mask your sadness with confusion. Slowly, you began to stand up, ready to make a run for it.

Abruptly, Sirius exclaimed, “Where are you going?

“You told me to shut up.”

“Oh yeah, that…”

“Dovey, he’s just shocked, that’s all. We feel the same way, see?” Remus comforted

“I can’t believe you didn’t bloody know we fancied you!” Sirius sat up straighter and pulled you from Remus’ side to sit on his lap, causing you to flush.

“Wait, you really like me?”

“Yes.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes.”

“Like, actually?”

“Yes.”

“And this isn’t a prank?”

“No.”

“So James and Peter aren’t hiding around a corner ready to throw treacle and feathers on me right now?”

“No.”

“And you really, actually, truly like me?”

“*Yes*!”

“Bloody hell, woman!” Sirius smashed his lips onto yours, leaving you breathless as you relax into his embrace, threading your hands through his hair before you pull apart.

“Is that enough evidence for you, sweetheart?” Remus grins as you nod, albeit hesitantly.

“Look at me. Sirius Black. Not only is he dating the fittest boy in Hogwarts, bar himself, of course, but he’s now dating the fittest girl!”

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius’ antics.

“Wait, so we’re dating now?”

“Yes! Christ almighty…”

[leovenuslatina]

love galore💖

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

what your future spouse will do to impress you

✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩

psa - tarot readings are not set in stone

take what resonates leave what doesn’t

you’re fully in control of YOUR own life

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

* take a deep cleansing breathe

and pick a pile that calls to you *

✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩

✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩

{Pile One - 7 of swords, queen of pentacles,the world}

༝༚༝༚

what your fs does to impress you pile 1 is fix themselves!!!! they meet you and realize they need to show up as the best person for you so they go above and beyond to fix any of their flaws and even attend therapy to make sure they are the type of person that deserves you. to impress you your person will use money but not in a showing off kinda way in a way where they are being helpful. at any opportunity they can they they want to provide for you and support you they’ll want to take care of you to show you they’re the type of person you can marry and depend on, one that will be there your whole life. to impress you pile 1 they will commit quickly they’ll know they want you and only you and will be as loyal as can be.

༝༚༝༚

^extra^

abundance is my birthright

practicality

prosperity

wealth management

avoiding conflict

therapy

certainty

completion

positive

rewards

satisfaction

✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩

{Pile Two - 8 of swords, knight of cups, 4 of wands}

༝༚༝༚

pile 2 the way your fs will impress you is by showing up when you need him the most i see something happening where you need emotional support or maybe something has you really down early in the relationship. they will be there for you ! they will show you that they can be your shoulder to lean on when you need them the most. any problems or obstacles you may face you will never face them alone with your fs by your side. your person may be a creative and to impress you they will make you something with their bare hands just to show you how much they care for you! to impress you pile 2 they’ll introduce you to all their high profile friends who could maybe help YOU in any way like maybe you have a business or something and you fs will want to to everyone to make your business grow. to impress you they will always take you where you want to go just to see your eyes light up. you fs will want to help you accomplish all your goal they want to be by you while you reach your biggest dreams. i’m seeing your fs is a charmer !!! and to impress you they will always sweep you off your feet.

༝༚༝༚

^extra^

arrival

invitation

always want you around

new opportunities

dreamer

celebration

happiness

completion

pleasure

new beginnings

✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩

{pile three - 2 of cups, the sun, 10 of wands}

༝༚༝༚

to impress you my pile 3 your fs will offer you immediate friendship they will show you that they actually care about you and will want to get to know who you are completely before taking things further.

to impress you pile 3 they will always want you to experience the upmost happiness when they’re with you. like pile 2 your fs will want to see you achieve all your goal and help you as much as possible being like a cheerleader right by your side. some more things they’ll do to impress you is if anything comes up to both you they will stick up

for you right away. they don’t want anything to hurt you or make you feel bad like you’re own protector.

they lift you up anytime you need it and alway make you rest if you’ve ever taken on too many work projects. they will want to take care of you any way they can. they’ll impress you by always know your moods and almost reading your mind about anything you need.

༝༚༝༚

^extra^

love

partnership

mutual love

overcommitted

burdens

challenges

✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩✧༺┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦┆༻✩

[yanderestarangel]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊11 | 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘!𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄

♡‧₊˚✧˖° request from: @little-bug-butt ♡‧₊˚✧˖°

A/N: I love this Johnny Cage- he's so dilf I'm very simp for him, I hope you like the post dear, thanks for the idea! PS: sorry tagging your @, my tumblr simply deleted my draft with your request <3

TW: age gap, afab reader, praise, smut, nsfw, v!sex, oral ( f!re ), sugar daddy concept, semi public sex, daddykink, degradation kink, blowjob, dirty talk, anal, sex!toys, power play, sub!reader, dilf!johnny, sexual positions/kama sutra, rec!sex, no pronouns used other than 'you', spoilers about the canon line of mk11, little angst.

♡ - After Sonia's death Johnny was lonely and a little too mentally shaken, Cassie was living her own life - even though he was still her father, she needed her own time to work and meet new people, unfortunately, the man It became increasingly lonely, so he decided to use some old contacts and discover the 'sugar daddy' concept - he would be reluctant at first when using the site, he clicked through several profiles, until he found yours - which caught his attention practically immediately, your beauty and interests, you seemed like a great company for him, and he stayed for approximately an hour asking if he should call you in the chatbox or not, he looked more like a scared teenager than a 50+ year old ex Hollywood actor.

♡ - But he took courage and finally started a chat with you - and to his relief, you were an extremely sweet and friendly person to him, the poor man had all his hopes up, you stayed talking for hours, in calls and text messages. Cage really wanted to meet you soon, but you wanted a little more time for both of you to get to know each other better. He would be a little impatient about having to wait a few weeks to take you to dinner, but finally, you agreed to go with him, and he was definitely very nervous.

♡ - Johnny chose the best suit he had, accentuating his muscles and applying a perfume with a strong citrus essence, fixing his hair with gel and proudly showing off the side gray strands that insisted on appearing more every day - not that he cared, after all, he knew you were a hot dilf - he bought the best limousine he could get and met you at the restaurant door; He had brought a bouquet of flowers, your favorites - he wrote down everything the two of you talked about, and all your likes and dislikes, it wasn't that difficult to get your favorite color right. "-You're even more beautiful in person (Y/N)... I hope we get along well tonight." Johnny said smiling as he offered you the gift, you could see the slight blush on his face but he looked away, taking you inside the luxurious restaurant - which he rented that night just for the two of you -

♡ - Dinner was going well, but Johnny was trying to control himself as much as possible. You were a beautiful person, your smile lit up the darkest corners of the fighter's soul, you even showed solidarity when he spoke about his wife's death, placing your hands on top of his, in a gesture of support and half a dozen sincere words and kind... That made Johnny smile for the first time in lonely years. The problem was also focusing on being a gentleman, his dick was pulsing and it was sore in his pants, damn, he really wanted to have a romantic dinner and not have sex on the first date, but with every sweet look you gave him, he made the older man feels his own shaft getting harder. He quickly pushed those thoughts away - especially the ones that projected images created of you sitting on his dick, with his hands wrapped around your neck - and focused on making your night good and enjoyable, and yes, obviously he's going to pay the bill. dinner regardless of your protests, he wants to treat you like a prince/princess, but luckily for you, he was a man who gave in to desires very quickly.

♡ - Johnny guided you to the limo - opening the door for you, he gestured for you to enter first, before entering himself. The interior was lavishly decorated with luxurious seating, a stocked bar, and a huge TV screen mounted to the ceiling - it all started with innocent, shy touches, but anticipation and desire hung in the air between the two of you, the movie star's voice rising. mixed with the wine you were drinking, while Cage's warm, veiny hand found your thigh, massaging it lightly with circular movements, then, as you talked again about the terms of the 'suck' relationship, you cheekily called him "daddy" and that was the end of Johnny's sanity. Reaching out, he grabbed his wrist and pulled it tightly towards his hardened member, pressing into his pants. "-Do you feel how eager I am for you? Fuck baby... I really wanted to be a gentleman, but you drive me crazy, do you want that too? I swear I won't force you into anything." And when you agreed, he just grunted in response as he ordered the driver to speed up and close the access window between you and the front of the limo.

♡ - Johnny pulled your clothes down in one quick movement, revealing your chubby and shaved pussy to his hungry eyes. It was even more perfect than he imagined – tight and begging for attention. "-You're mine now, baby boy/baby girl.." he moaned softly, his breath hot against your flushed skin. As if reading your mind, he pulled out his own cock from his pants, letting it spring free—a thick, veiny member coated in precum, ready for action. "-Now, spread your legs wider for me dear, open that pussy wide for daddy..." he commanded gruffly, his eyes ablaze with lust. The limo rocked back and forth on its suspension as he pounded into you relentlessly, his large hands firmly gripping the seats above your head.

♡ - That was your first date and your first sex, even though you insisted that he didn't need to give you gifts after sex, he insisted again - and this also happened after the first date, with Johnny cumming between your breasts and then you giving a kiss on the forehead and a swarovski emerald necklace, with a satisfied and even probably passionate smile on his face. His gifts are very expensive, if you want an imported car he will buy it for you right away, if you want to go to a parade on the other side of the world for a brand you like... He will find a way to put you in front row and with enough money in your account for you to buy more than enough exclusive pieces, the most futile luxury he could give you. But in the end, what he really wanted was your company, he wanted your affection and nights of laughter and silly conversations together while jazz played in the background of his mansion, maybe some slow, lazy sex after a long day, with him listening your moans and high-pitched squeals in his ear.

♡ - He is a very sexually active man, so expect to fuck him in various positions, some of them being: 'Bandoleer', 'The Grip', 'Afternoon Delight', 'The Clasp', 'The Curled Angel', 'The Plow', 'The Snail'. Johnny also has daddykink - so he will always want you to call him 'daddy' or 'my lord' or any power nickname, he will praise you while he fucks your pussy, especially if you ride on his face moaning and getting a dumb, trembling mess of pleasure because of him. "-Yes baby- fuck- no no, you're not going to cum yet ok? That was our agreement my angel, you're only going to cum when daddy lets you, otherwise I won't give you my card this weekend.." He would moan loudly against your clit, making you squirt on his face and making him cum without even penetrating you, staining the sheets of semen beneath both of you. "-Holy Fuck- boy/girl... You know daddy is going to punish you now, don't you?"

♡ - He spreads money notes on the mattress, a proof of how much he can spend monetarily on you, how powerful he is, while sticking his thick shaft in your holes "-Is that what you like little slut? Being my whore? My exclusive whore." - anal is also included, Johnny will buy anal plugs/vibrators and force you to go to dinners and events with the sex toys inside you controlling every high or medium vibration in your body, whispering dirty talk in your ear. "-Beg me to take that vibrator out of your little dear hole... And maybe I can fuck you right here." This would end with him thrusting into you once again inside the bathroom where the event was taking place, grabbing your face tightly and forcing you to look in the mirror, while his balls hit your clit painfully. "-Look at yourself honey, see how daddy Johnny can destroy that pretty pussy" a slap was given hard to your ass, making you arch even more towards him. "-Take all of this, like the good boy/good girl you are."

♡ - Johnny also loves blowjobs, especially in semi-public places, every time you guys go to buy you some clothes... It ends with you kneeling in front of him, with dollar bills spread across your cleavage while he recorded every gag you made it hit his member. "-Smile for the camera little prince/princess, you look beautiful while sucking my dick like a desperate slut." He would definitely cum on your face and take a photo to put on your wallpaper, in addition to spoiling you like hell that day. But aside from the sex and shopping and luxuries - Johnny really liked you, he really fell in love with you beyond being a sugar baby and a sugar daddy - and you could see it in his eyes every time you hugged each other and lay in the pleasant silence of the night. However, he was too afraid of expressing himself and ruining everything... Just keeping track of your sugar daddy for a long time, maybe, someday he would have the courage to tell you his true feelings for you.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[radiant-reid]

omg cate the dad bod!spencer post😭 could u please write smth about that but like, not him being insecure about it because i see that all the time! but him using his new weight and filled out form to pin his gf/wife on the bed, face down and just breed her <3

i was a couple mojitos deep when i wrote this

Spencer Reid is so hot.

It's the only thing you're thinking about while he's undressing in the walk-in wardrobe without the door closed, leaving so many beautiful inches of his body to your sight.

The heat inside you is definitely his fault.

"Did you see Belle's art this morning?" He asks as he walks through the door, looking absolutely delectable, only dressed in pants that hang low around his hips.

"Mhm." You mumble, pretending to be reading your book.

Spencer catches you ogling him. It would be practically impossible not to, especially for a profiler who has lived with you for years. "What's your pretty little brain thinking about?" He walks closer to the bed slowly.

"You." It's the honest truth that he knows, and there's not much else to say.

His gloating grin grows as he walks across the room to the foot of the bed, climbing on and crawling up the bed. It gives you the perfect view of his body, where his chest is softer now, his stomach protrudes more, and he's filled out. It's so attractive. Your legs fall open under the covers, letting him stop in between them.

"Yeah? What do you want with me, baby?" He asks.

"Spencer, don't." You hit him on the shoulder, predictably shying away from telling him what you want. "You know what I want."

"Tell me." He growls.

You glide your palm down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his pajama pants. "Another baby." You say before you can help it, which is not the answer either of you expected.

He doesn't flinch at the confession, his eyes darkening. He leans in to meet your lips for a quick kiss. "You're serious?"

"Very serious." You assure him. "We can handle two, right?"

Spencer doesn't miss a beat in nodding. "Yes." He answers. "No more discussion needed."

He works quickly once you nod, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. You pull the covers off, lifting your ass off the bed and pressing your hips against his, where you can feel the evidence of how much he wants you.

"Needy, baby." He coos, hands gliding up under your tank. His wide palms press into your sides while his gorgeous long fingers spread across your stomach.

“Could say the same thing about you.” You bite back, reaching behind yourself and making contact with the hard length in his pants. “Did I do this?”

He groans as you touch him, easily being distracted from getting you undressed. “You’re the only person in the world that can do this.” He tells you lowly.

“Prove it, Spence.” You request, challenging him. “Put a baby in me.”

It acts like an accelerant to the fire inside him and in one swift move, your sleeping shorts are being tugged down you legs, flung across the room.

“First time last time, you know?” He reminds you, still feeling cocky about it. “Think I can do it again? Because I know I can.”

You scoff, determined to tease him to ensure you get the best sex possible. “You’ve got no way of knowing if it was the first time.”

It’s true that you don’t technically know since back then you were having sex so much your daughter could have been convinced on a number of occasions, but you’re both confident it was the first time.

Where you’re expecting words from him, you get actions first. His weight pins you to the bed as his hips rest on top of yours, and it makes you let out a moan without him even touching you. “Wanna try that again?” He offers.

You shake your head into the pillows. “Stop teasing.” You scold when he slots his thigh between your thighs, softly brushing your dripping core with his pant leg.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want.” He promises. He draws his thumb through your wet folds, making you moan as he hums in satisfaction. “Warm up round?” He offers.

Adamantly, you shake your head. “For round two. I need you inside me now.”

He does what you ask, lining himself up and gliding into you in one swift motion. “Fuck.” He groans instantly. You can’t see him put you know that he’s throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Feels so good.” You agree.

It’s not just his cock hitting inside you at the perfect angle. It’s how good he feels on top of you, how his gorgeous body molds so perfectly onto yours.

You muffle your loud moans in the pillow, absolutely not wanting to get caught and have to stop the intense pleasure all over your body.

“God, I want to put a baby in you so badly.” He groans, on hand sneaking back under your tank to touch your nipples.

“Do it.” You plead, rolling your hips against his when he thrusts fully inside you.

He dips his head so his breath is right against your neck before starting to kiss your skin. He speeds up, pounding his hips against yours each time.

“Spencer!” You moan out his name followed by a trail of expletives.

“I know, baby. I know.” He coos softly against your ear. “Touch yourself.” He prompts and you struggle slightly under his weight to draw your fingers to your clit. “Help me make you cum.”

You’re over the edge in seconds, pleasure waves pulsing through you and all your senses focusing on how good it feels.

“Fill me up, Spence.” You beg, tangling your hand in his hair.

He pants against your neck as he stills, releasing cum deep inside of you while he moans out your name.

He falls forward onto you, slightly sweaty chest sticking to you, as you both come down from your highs together. His weight grounds you and it’s warm like being hugged by him.

“That was so good.” You declare, catching your breath.

He nods in agreement. “Love any chance I get to fill you up.” He kisses your shoulder. “And make more perfect babies with you.”

“I just love you.”

[simp4wom3n]

Only You

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request @perfectartisanwerewolf

Summary: After Jenna overhears a conversation suggesting that Percy has a crush on her new girlfriend Y/n, her insecurities get the better of her, before Emma lends a helping hand. ~ Word Count: 3.092k ~ Warnings: one swear word otherwise nothing

A/N: HI!!!! my god writing again actually feels amazing it's not even funny. It feels so goddamn good to be back so I hope you guys enjoy this one <3

"Uno!", you slam your second last card down in triumph, slumping back into the couch with a smug smirk as an array of complaints and groans from your costars fill your ears. "How are you on uno already!?" Emma laughs in disbelief, looking at you as you shrug your shoulders.

It had become almost routine for everyone to hangout after a hard week of filming, often choosing to play uno in one of your apartments. In that time, you had established yourself as practically unbeatable at the game, only ever being beaten once by Jenna - and despite claiming that you let her win she will never let you live it down.

"She's just amazing, like she is at everything." Percy chimes in, looking at you with a small, almost suggestive smile. You give him a quick smile in return as you feel someone shift next to you, causing your head to turn, your eyes landing on your girlfriend. Cuddled into the side of the couch and staring blankly at the pile of cards in the middle of the table, the warm smile that typically adorned Jenna's features had disappeared - her current expression mirroring Wednesday's iconic deadpan.

You and Jenna had only officially been together for about a month now, and the cast were none the wiser - or at least most of them (Emma had her suspicions). Despite the cast being so tight-knit, you wanted to wait to share the news so you were able to just enjoy 'the honeymoon phase' of your relationship without any prying eyes.

That being said, a definite downside was that both of you were overly cautious about displays of affection in front of the others, so as you watched Jenna shift uncomfortably, you fought the urge to touch her, hold her hand, or pull her into a hug.

Deciding to gently nudge her with your arm, her eyes meet yours as you tilt your head in question, sending her a silent 'are you okay?'. Her lips quirk into a small smile as she returns a small nod, a reassurance most people would believe but one that you saw right through, noticing the somber and hesitant look in her eyes.

Your questioning eyes remain on her side profile as she turns away from you, returning her focus to the game you had almost completely forgotten about. You knew something was bothering her, but you were unsure as to what. 'She's just had a long week' is what you told yourself, your worried eyes still glued on your girlfriends figure.

"Ow!" you grunted as you received an elbow in your side from Emma, your trance broken as you shifted your gaze to the other girl sitting next to you. "It's your turn" she laughed at you as you muttered a meek "sorry", turning towards the table.

"A plus four are you kidding me y/n?! ugh I give up." Emma groaned as you placed down your final card with a small chuckle. There was a mix of groans and laughs around the group before, once again, Percy spoke up.

"See I told you, she's amazing"

It had been a long night.

What started as a typical games night among the cast had turned into pure torture for Jenna - and unfortunately she didn't enjoy it as Wednesday did. For you and Jenna, being each other's girlfriends was still fresh, the two of you still solidifying your relationship as not only friends, but lovers. So having to watch Percy shamelessly flirt with you all night had her heart aching beyond belief.

It wasn't jealously she felt (ok maybe she felt a little bit), it was more just pure insecurity. She trusted you. Of course she did. But she couldn't help but feel like she wasn't good enough for you.

You were so infuriatingly perfect.

Everything about you was perfect. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth - and not to mention you are disturbingly good at Uno. But as lucky as that makes her, it also means that everyone else sees how amazing you are. Without people knowing about your relationship, Jenna felt as though you could easily be ripped from beneath her, leaving her on her own as you inevitably find someone who is better for you than she could ever be.

So as she walked towards your trailer, her insecurities plaguing her thoughts, she takes deep breaths as she rehearses how she's going to ask you to tell your friends about your relationship. She understood it was a big step, and there was still a part of her that didn't want to tell anybody, to keep you all to herself, but if it would make her feel better, she knew she had to ask.

Walking through the cast's trailers, passing by Emma's, Joy's, and even Percy's, all she wanted was to see you again, to hug you again, to kiss you again.

Her journey to your trailer was a short one, just having to walk past a few of your other costars trailers in order to get there. She had been craving intimacy with you all day. All she wanted to do was to hug you and to kiss you.

Her steps, however, were halted when she heard a particularly loud conversation coming from inside one of the trailers.

Percy’s trailer.

She wasn't typically one to eavesdrop, but in her current state, her curiosity got the better of her. She just couldn't help herself. She took a slow step closer to said trailer, her eyes scanning her surrounding to check that no one saw her rather suspicious position before listening in.

"Dude she totally likes you! it's obvious" a male voice spoke, possibly Georgie but she wasn't sure. "See I thought so too! she's been giving me all these signals lately I just don't know when to make my move." Another male voice replied, one which Jenna quickly recognised as Percy's.

Her heart simultaneously swelled and sunk, the thought of Percy possibly liking someone else filled her heart with hope that maybe she could keep her own little world with you for just a little longer. To be able to keep her love for you private, something she treasured with all of her close relationships. Just the thought of that chance had a small smile creeping its way onto her lips.

"Y/n totally likes you dude. Make your move, don't be a pussy."

Her world had come crashing down, the rest of the conversation falling on deaf ears. Her breath had caught in her throat as the world started to spin and her heart sunk with her smile quickly dropping. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears as she frantically looked around, needing to get away from this conversation as fast as physically possible. Her quick steps eventually take her in the opposite direction of your trailer, unable to face you after what she just heard.

Did you like him back?

Did your relationship mean nothing to you?

Was it all fake?

Her mind was moving just as fast as her feet, putting as much distance between you and her as she possibly could. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she had lost track of where she was going, that was until she bumped into something.

Her head rapidly turned in the direction of her obstacle, not knowing what she was going to be met with but knowing that whatever it was was stopping her from running away, so she wasn't happy about it. What she definitely didn't expect was for her eyes to be met with Emma's confused expression.

Her rapid breathes began to ease as Emma firmly gripped her shoulders, scanning her face, which, unbeknownst to Jenna, had fresh tear tracks running down her cheeks with tears consistently falling.

"Jenna oh my god. Are you ok? what's wrong?"

Unable to find the words, Jenna responds with a rapid shake of her head as her warm tears continue to roll down her cheeks. Emma says nothing else as she grabs Jenna's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before dragging her towards her trailer.

Once inside, Emma quickly closes the door before bringing Jenna into a crushing hug. Jenna gripped onto her shirt as if she would float away if she had let go. Her tears began to pool on Emma's shoulder as she gently rubs Jenna's back, allowing her to sob quietly for as long as she was able to.

With her cries finally ceasing, Emma pulled away slightly and pulled Jenna over to the couch, softly placing her down before taking a seat next to her. Jenna's face was bright red, her eyes bloodshot as she remained silent and still, now only sniffling and hastily wiping away her tears.

"Is this about y/n?"

Jenna's head whipped towards Emma's voice with furrowed brows, a new wave of tears pooling in her eyes at the mention of your name. "How... how did you know?" she brokenly whispered, her heart once again pounding in shock.

"Oh come on Jenna." she smiled softly, tilting her head as she gives her best friend a knowing look. "I know both of you better than anyone. Did you really think I wouldn't notice." she lightheartedly chuckles at Jenna's shocked expression.

Jenna just sits there, mouth agape as she is unable to comprehend what she has just heard - and here she thought you were both subtle. Broken out of her trance by Emma's hand slipping into hers, she felt a stray tear roll down her cheek as Emma squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked gently, not wanting to pry or make Jenna uncomfortable. Sucking in a breath, she exhaled shakily as she felt the familiar burn of tears resurface.

"Last night... Percy was flirting with her and she seemed so unbothered that... I don't know it just made me feel so... insecure? I guess" Emma nodded in response as Jenna continued. "And then today...I-I overhead Percy talking to Georgie in his trailer and-and they were talking about how 'y/n definitely likes him back' and how he should 'make a move'."

With tears now streaming down her face, Jenna struggled to find the words to describe how she felt. The pure heartache that she was experiencing was something she had never felt before. She could feel her heart slowly breaking with each word she spoke, painfully reliving the events she had desperately tried to run away from.

"A-and now I'm questioning everything. We've only been d-dating for a month a-and... I don't know, what if she doesn't like me anymore... w-what if she really does like him back." Before she could continue rambling, Emma interrupted her, "Hey, hey, look at me."

Jenna's broken eyes meet Emma's as she gave her a sympathetic smile. "Look... I may not know a lot about this kinda stuff, but one thing I do know is that y/n loves you. Every time she looks at you she gives you literal heart eyes, every time she walks into a room, she doesn't care who else is in there, she goes straight to you. She's a love sick puppy if I've ever seen one."

"Really?" "Yes really!" A small smile had spread its way onto Jenna's lips at the thought. She really hoped that what Emma was saying was true because she would be lying if she said she wasn't head-over-heels in love with you too. "As for Percy, he's just an idiot with a blind hype-man." This caused Jenna to chuckle, the seed of doubt that was previously growing in her mind slowly but surely dying.

"How about this. To prove it to you, how about I invite everyone over to mine when we've all wrapped tonight and you can see for yourself?" At Emma's suggestion, Jenna nodded enthusiastically, thrilled by the idea of possibly destroying all remnants of doubt left.

Entering Emma's apartment, soft music playing over loud speakers as everyone was gathered around her living room, you were the last one to arrive which wasn't uncommon for you. You greeted everyone as they noticed your arrival, making an immediate beeline for an empty spot next to Jenna on the couch.

Percy, who seemed to have a new air of confidence, threw a comment your way as soon as you were in his line of sight. "There she is! My favourite girl is finally here!" You inwardly winced when you heard what he said, choosing to focus on Jenna in an attempt to ignore his obnoxious remark.

Jenna had been studying your face ever since you entered the room, her watchful eyes making sure that every subtle change in your expression didn't go unnoticed. Her jaw clenched when she heard Percy talk, a comment that could be interpreted platonically, but after the conversation she overheard, she knew his intentions and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

She did however notice how you slightly flinched at his words, your posture straightening as you walked faster in her direction. She inwardly sighed in relief at your reaction, knowing now that Emma was right. Maybe you really did love her - or at least you clearly didn't love Percy which was good enough for her.

As you took a seat next to her and turned your head to meet her eyes, she gave you a soft smile, one that was laced with sympathy, and greeted you. "Hi", she said softly. "Hi" You chuckled lightly, your thoughts disappearing as you get lost in her eyes, completely forgetting about your surroundings as the stress of your day practically melted away into an abyss.

You stared into each others eyes for what felt like eternity, each of you with matching giddy smiles. Even though you had only been dating a month, you could easily see yourself looking into these eyes for the rest of your life - something you would do with absolute pleasure.

Sadly, your own little bubble was burst when someone cleared their throat, causing both of you to look in the direction of the sound. "Are you playing or what?" Emma smirks at the two of you, well aware that she had interrupted something. Shaking your head gently out of your thoughts, you quickly replied "Yeah, yeah of course", giving Jenna a quick glance and smirk before settling into the couch.

As the rounds of Uno went on, with you unsurprisingly winning all of them, Jenna had been barely paying attention. She lost just about every round because she had been solely focused on you. Her eyes studying every detail, learning all the quirks of your different expressions - she also decided that your concentration face was incredibly cute. She was surprised you hadn't felt her eyes burning into the side of your head but she wasn't going to complain.

After practically memorising every little detail of your face, Jenna gently leant over towards you, her head stopping inches from yours, finally drawing your attention. She quietly whispered in your ear, "Can we talk?". You gave her a confused glance but quickly agreed before excusing yourselves and leaving the room.

"Is everything ok?" you were quick to ask, growingly worried as to why she was pulling you aside. "Emma knows". You blink in confusion. "Knows?..." "About us". Your eyes widen slightly in realisation, your lips forming a small O before you exhale in relief, relieved it wasn't anything worse.

"And... is that a problem? How did she find out?" you question hesitantly, knowing that Jenna really valued your relationships privacy and you weren't sure how she had taken the news. You saw Jenna take a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm herself which concerned you slightly.

"Basically... earlier today... I overheard Percy talking about how he liked you." She watches as your brows furrow slightly, obviously somewhat confused, but also upset about the news. "And when I heard him say that... I kinda panicked and ran away from the conversation... that's when I ran into Emma who took me to her trailer and comforted me, and immediately asked me if it was about you."

"Of course she did", you scoffed playfully, reaching to grab Jenna's hand to offer her some support. "I know... but she calmed me down and told me that you clearly loved me and Percy was stupid." You laughed at that before pulling Jenna into a gentle hug, her arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing softly.

"Who knew Emma could be so wise" you joked, earning a soft chuckle from your girlfriend. "She was definetly right about Percy being an idiot though... my god he can't take a hint" You gently pulled away from Jenna so your eyes could meet hers, your heart racing as you felt the weight of three heavy words on your tongue.

"And... that I love you." You saw Jenna's gaze soften, her eyes becoming glossy as she shows a giddy smile. "Really?" "Really" you reply softly. She sniffles quietly as you wipe away a stray tear that had escaped her beautiful eyes. "I love you too" she whispered even quieter, just loud enough for you to hear her.

You gently cup her cheeks as you pull her lips onto yours in a soft kiss. Jenna's hands slipped around the back of your neck causing a shiver to run down your spine, both of you gently caressing the others skin as you lips moved gently against one another's. Once your lips separated, you slipped your hand into hers, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, pulling her back into the living room.

Walking through the doorway hand in hand, only two people appeared to take notice. Emma and Percy. Emma sent both of you a giddy smirk to which you both returned as you made your way back to your spot on the couch.

Moving you eyes away from Emma, you noticed Percy's bitter glare. Making eye contact with him, you threw your arm around Jenna's shoulders, pulled her closer so she was snuggling into you, and sent him a sly wink.

You watched as he scoffed and looked down at his phone, evidently trying to distract himself from what he had just seen. You chuckled softly at his reaction, knowing that you were definitely going to make the most of this after his ignorance had caused your girlfriend to question your love for her - payback is a bitch.

Jenna obviously had the same idea as she leaned into your side, gently whispering,

"This is going to be fun"

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers

[a-case-of-attachment]

The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Paring: Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, male masturbation, mentions of depression, virgin reader, awkwardness, Lucifer being awkward, fluff, misunderstandings, honestly 90% of this is about sex.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

Angel Dust was right, the two of you do become sickeningly lovey dovey once your relationship is made official. Well as official as it can be with neither of you wanting the entirety of Hell knowing just yet. You don’t want the attention it would bring, and Lucifer doesn’t want to make you a target for those looking to gain power by either trying to worm their way into your life or hurting you. But hey, the important people knew, and Lucifer wasn’t above rubbing his happiness in their faces. 

He doesn’t waist a single opportunity to tell just about anyone how adorable and beautiful you are, often staring dreamily at you on the other side of the room as he describes everything he likes about you, from how kind and compassionate you are to how your eyes light up when you smile. He knows that people are getting annoyed with him, but he doesn’t care, as enamoured with you as he is. Charlie seems to be the only one that still thinks it’s sweet how obviously smitten he is with you but he can tell that even she’s starting to get a bit bored of hearing him wax poetry about you, comparing you to sunshine and rainbows and all sorts of things that he hasn’t actually seen in centuries now. He couldn’t help himself though and it wasn’t like he didn’t say the same things to you directly, delighting in the blush it always got him. 

Now that you and Lucifer were a thing he hadn’t stop with the gifts and chivalry. He liked opening doors for you or pulling out your chair at the dinner table, even offering you his arm when walking down the street. Not that it happened all that often with the two of you trying to keep a low profile but when it did Lucifer couldn’t help but beam, feeling like the luckiest man in Hell to have you on his arm. The gift giving had slowed down though, Charlie having told Lucifer that “gifts lose there meaning if they are given all the time. They won’t be so special any more if it becomes expected.” She had been right of course so Lucifer had mad a conscious effort to tone it down, now only presenting you with things that he truly thought would mean something to you instead of every little knickknack and trinket he came across that made him think of you. 

You were more subtle in your affections than him. You weren’t one to go around boasting about how lucky you were to have snagged the big boss himself, but you did have a lovely habit of mentioning him a lot in conversations and the best part was you didn’t even seem to know you were doing it. There was a lot of Lucifer said this and Lucifer did that, something that irritated the other residents of the hotel, but Lucifer found absolutely delightful when he found out. He liked the idea that you thought about him as much as he did you and that even when he wasn’t there you couldn’t help but bring him up in conversation. It satisfied a part of him that practically purred at the prospect of people knowing you were his. The same part that wanted to growl and bare its teeth when he would see someone else laying their hands on you. 

In fact, he had almost cut off Husks hand when he had caught the demon with his paws on your shoulders and leaning in far too close for Lucifers liking. The only thing that had calmed him down had been your gentle touch and soothing words, promising that “we were just talking my king nothing more. Trust me when I say I’m not the sinner he’s interested in.” It helped that the reassurance came with kisses, your lips soft but sure against his as you cupped his check like he was made of porcelain. No one treated him as gently as you did, like he was something precious to be protected and cherished. It made his heart flutter, desperate for your gentle and loving touch even as it ached with the knowledge that he didn���t deserve it. 

Lucifer is deliriously happy, with a bounce in his step and a constant smile on his face. It was perfect, well as perfect as things could be considering they were in Hell, and you were dead but there was just one teeny tiny insignificant little problem. Not even a problem really just a small detail that didn’t mean anything. It was just Lucifer being silly really. He could go without, yes he could, no problem. Well except it was a problem because it was getting in the way of things, both with you and with his duties. Lucifer was managing though, at least he would be if that blasted spider stopped bringing his happy little gloating sessions to an abrupt end by asking “but have ya screwed her yet your majesty?” 

The answer to that crude and somewhat malicious question was no, Lucifer had not yet had the pleasure of taking you to bed and the tacky little spider knew that, as did the rest of hotels guest thanks to that big mouthed harlot. Not that Lucifer was in a rush for your relationship to progress that way. He was enjoying spending time with you and really getting to know you. The two of you were taking things slow, Lucifer conscious of the fact that you had nowhere near the amount of experience he did and you seemingly content to just work up to it. Slowly. But that was perfectly acceptable, and Lucifer was not about to press you for something you clearly weren’t read for. That being said though, it had been months since yours and Lucifers little roof top date and it was getting harder and harder to reign himself in, always wanting to press that little bit harder when you exchange kisses or let his hand wander when he got to touch you. 

Despite how much he wanted to deny it, his desire for you was becoming a serious problem, Lucifer often having to excuse himself because he couldn’t handle how close you had been. How your hands glided through his hair and down his back or how sweet your lips tasted against his. Far too many times he had teleported home, bracing himself against his work bench or door or just the nearest hard surface and taken things into his own hands. It always felt good in the moment, the rush of relief as his mind got lost in the possibilities of you and him. He desperately wanted to know how you tasted, how your naked body felt against his, where all the little spots were on your body that had you gasping and moaning and withering beneath him as he took you to new hights. Lucifer wanted to know if you preferred being above or below him, if your whispered words of adoration sounded just as sweet when he was buried inside of you and if afterwards you would want to be the big or little spoon. It was a lot of want, Lucifer being consumed by it all in the moment until his pleasure peaked and sweet relief washed over him. It never lasted though, shame and guilt consuming him quickly and leaving him regretful of his lack of control. You were so sweet, so innocent and here Lucifer was reducing you down to nothing but a perverted fantasy that didn’t even compare to the reality of you. 

The days afterwards he would always be a little withdrawn, unable to face looking at you without the well of guilt bubbling up and making him feel sick. You were always worried about him and Lucifer hated himself for making you feel that way but you were a kind and understanding soul, assuming he was just having one of his bad days and giving him the space he needed whilst letting him know you would always be there if he needed anything. That just made him feel even worse because here you are being supportive and caring thinking he was going through something when in fact Lucifer was having a breakdown because he wanted to have sex with you when he should be concentrating on the heaven issue and making the hotel work or you know, his job as King of Hell. 

That often leads to Lucifer getting his act together, giving himself a stern talking to and swearing not to do it again. It’s a lie, a promise he knows he will not be able to keep. Sure he might be able to for a week or so, might be content to just shower you in affection and kisses but then something will happen, maybe you’ll press a little closer when he hugs you or your teeth will just catch his lip as you pull away from a kiss and Lucifer will be right back at the start again, hungering for something that he wasn’t sure he would ever get. 

It was frustrating in a way that Lucifer had never had to deal with before, leaving him feeling like he was always on the back foot when it came to you. He was well aware that all his problems would be solved with a conversation with you and he had tried on several occasions but it was difficult to articulate himself when it came to these sorts of things and he couldn’t think of a way to ask you if you wanted to fuck any time soon, well, without just asking if you wanted to fuck any time soon. It just sounds so crass, so insensitive, like that was all Lucifer wanted from you when it really wasn’t. He would be happy just having you by his side, his days filled with kisses and devotions of love. He just, he needs to know if that’s all it’s going to be though so he can deal with his desires appropriately and not possibly ruin your relationship by being a complete scoundrel. 

It all comes to a head when Lucifer practically throws you through his parlour wall. 

It’s one of the days where you’ve snuck away from the hotel to spend the day with him in his home, the two of you content to just exist in the same space together. Lucifer had brought his latest project down from his work room, tinkering away with the thing whilst you snuggle in the armchair, book in hand and enjoying the roaring fire he had gotten going for you in the hearth. It’s peaceful, the two of you exchanging the odd word here and there but not about anything important or anything that would pull you away from your individual tasks. Lucifer hadn’t asked what you were reading, hadn’t even glanced at the cover when you had placed your book down on the coffee table whilst you disappeared to make tea. If he had Lucifer would have noticed the stereotypical photo of a shirtless man with a woman all in white in his arms, the two of them gazing passionately into one another’s eyes as his fingers pulled down the collar of her dress to expose the swell of her breasts. Maybe if he had looked he would have known the kinds of things you were filling your head with. Maybe he might have been able to prepare himself for your sudden attack. 

Lucifer doesn’t notice the looks you keep shooting him over the top of your book or the blush on your cheeks as you glanced down at the pages and then back to him. In fact, Lucifer was so engrossed in trying to get his little ducky to fly that he didn’t even notice you had moved until the sofa dipped next to him. It’s a shock and Lucifer jolts slightly, fumbling with the duck in his hands and almost sending it flying across the room if it hadn’t been for you grabbing hold of it before it could go to far. He laughs nervously, thanking you for the help as he holds out his hand expectantly for his latest creation. Except you don’t give it back, instead placing it down on the coffee table with a little pat on its head before looking back at him. Lucifer is confused, even more so when you turn to face him fully, taking a deep breath before looking him in the eyes and asking “can I kiss you?” 

Lucifer is taken aback by your question, especially when you had never asked before. You look at him hopefully though, bottom lip caught between your teeth and a rosy hue to your cheeks, clearly embarrassed by your own question. It’s ridiculously adorable and Lucifer finds himself unable to deny you this request, not that he would want too anyway. With a fond smile Lucifer took your hand between his, insisting that he would “like nothing more than to feel your lips against mine.” Your eyes practically light up with his words, a wide and excited smile spreading across your face. He had all of a handful of seconds to admire how beautifully happy you look at the prospect of kissing him before your leaning in, eyelids fluttering closed as you tilt your head towards him. 

Kissing you is as addictive as everything else about you, Lucifer always hungry for more as soon as your lips brush his. Your lips are soft against his, slightly parted as if tempting him to plunge his tongue between them and deepen the kiss into something more suggestive. Lucifer resists the temptation though, keeping his own kisses light and tender as he cups your cheek with his free hand. He doesn’t expect the small whine you make, his rhythm faltering slightly because he can’t decide if you sound pained, desperate, frustrated or a mix of all three. He doesn’t get the chance to really think about it though because in the next second your tongue is running across his lips, prodding at the seem and seeking permission to enter. 

A couple of things happen all at once. Firstly, Lucifer gasps, his lips parting enough for your tongue to slip between them and into his mouth. Secondly, in one seamless move you go from sitting next to him to straddling him, your knees pressing against his sides and arms draped across his shoulders. The new position has you above him, Lucifer having to tilt his head back to keep his lips on yours and his hands frantically scrambling to find purchase on your hips. One of your hands slips into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp slightly and Lucifer can’t help but moan, your hungry mouth swallowing the sound. 

Lucifers control snaps right about then, losing himself in the kiss as he presses back just as hard and desperate. His tongue surges up to meet yours, curling around it and sucking gently before it’s pushing you back and forcing its way into your mouth. He feels you shudder in his hold, your grip on his hair tightening as you moan wantonly around his tongue. Lucifers grip tightens on your waist to the point that it must be painful, his nails digging in as he drags you down against him, desperate to have you as close as possible. It’s then that Lucifer realises that he’s hard, his straining member rubbing against your core as he pulls you closer, your breath hitching at the friction. 

It’s just a second, a thought flashing through his mind before he’s even finished grinding up against you. It’s just, it would be so easy to have you here and now, to rip your trousers in half and push your panties aside so he can slide into you and have you bouncing in his lap within seconds, moaning and gasping even as he shoved his tongue so far down your throat it was the only thing you could taste. Lucifers fingers twitch, his thumbs pressing down on your pelvis and nails scratching along the thin fabric that kept your most intimate parts hidden from him. It would be so easy, so so easy to just press a little hard, dig his nails in and rip through the fabric. Just a few quick movements and then sweet relief as he finally sunk into your warm tight virgin cunt. It’s just a thought, there and gone within a second but it’s enough to bring Lucifer to a screeching halt, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. 

Lucifer panics and what he does next is definitely not one of his proudest moments in life because instead of stopping and apologising like a normal person would he stands up suddenly and practically throws you off him, not noticing your startled cry as you cash down onto the coffee table. He screams something about an “important thing, MEETING! I completely forgot about. Yep meeting, better get going, don’t want to be late,” before teleporting himself out of the room and to his locked bedroom. His movements are frantic as he yanks his trousers open, bracing himself against one of the posts on his bed as he shoved his other hand down into his underwear. It’s quick, full of desperation as he remembers how you had felt above him, against him. All those sweet little sounds fuelling his depraved fantasy of if he hadn’t stopped, if he had let his dark desires take over and ruined you for anyone else right there on his sofa in the middle of his parlour. He muffled his moans and cries of your name against his arm, biting down on the bunched up fabric of his shirt as his pleasure peaks and spills over his fingers, all hot and sticky and so fucking good. Until it’s not. 

As the high of release fades Lucifer is left feeling sick, his stomach churning at what he had just done. He feels disgusted with himself, the feel of his rapidly cooling cum on his hand making his skin crawl. Lucifer teleports to his bathroom, stripping himself down till he’s naked and steps under the burning hot spray of his shower. His skin starts to turn pink instantly, but Lucifer doesn’t care, reaching for his soap and scrubbing at his skin till it feels raw and tender. It doesn’t help, Lucifer still able to feel you on him, the way your body had slotted so perfectly against his, how your hands had curled round his neck and slipped into his hair, even how it had felt to press himself against you most intimate area. Lucifer sobs pathetically, sinking down onto the floor and hugging his legs close to his chest. He thinks he hears you calling his name, your voice muffled through the thick door and the steady pounding of the water. He ignores you, convinced that he had imagined it, his mind playing a cruel trick on him in a moment of weakness. 

What had he done? You must think him disgusting now after he had violated your trust like that. All you had wanted from him was a kiss, that’s it but Lucifer had taken it too far, giving into his own desires and taking from you something you hadn’t been looking to give. Then he had just dumped you off of him, leaving you there whilst he ran away like the scarred pathetic mess he was. Oh heavens above, he had LEFT YOU THERE! Lucifer is quick to scramble out the shower when he realises his mistake, barely even drying himself before franticly pulling on his trousers and shit, buttoning the thing up haphazardly as he ran from the room barefooted, his wet feet slipping on the wood of the stairs in his haste to get back to you. He practically skids into the parlour, tripping over his feet as he calls out your name, an apology already tumbling from his mouth in a desperate rush to fix what he had done but it dies quickly, Lucifers words trailing off as he finds the room empty.  

Lucifer whines pathetically, hand clutching at his chest in an attempt to ease the sharp sting of regret and loss. Of course you would leave, how could he have been so stupid to think you would stick around after his behaviour. Trying not to cry Lucifer drops back down onto the sofa, head in his hands and hair dripping water onto the floor. He’s embarrassed by his behaviour, more than that though he’s ashamed of himself and the way he’s treated you. You deserve better than a sloppy make out session and desperate grinding on his sofa and you definitely deserved better than him just upping and leaving you like some kind of cheap fling. He needs to apologise to you at the very least, should grovel at your feet for forgiveness actually because heaven knows that he didn’t deserve it. 

Sighing Lucifer slumped back into the chair, his head tipped back so he can stare at the ceiling. Maybe it was time he got help? Clearly he needed it if he couldn’t keep himself from turning a simple make out session into him accosting you like some sort of sex obsessed degenerate. Unfortunately there was only one person he knew of who would be suited to help him with his sex problem and as much as Lucifer wanted to get his bad behaviour nipped in the bud before it became a much bigger issue he was in fact not looking forward to the conversation he would need to have to do so.

Asmodeus had been surprised to see him that was for sure, but he had cleared his schedule, ushering Lucifer into his office and making sure his assistant knew not to bother them for any reason, apart for bring them the tea he had ordered of course. It had been awkward at first, full of small talk about Lucifers family and life in their respected rings. It was uncomfortable but Lucifer was still thankful for the easy start to the conversation but the longer it went on the more fidgety he became, his knee bouncing with nerves and fingers tapping on the side of his cup in a sporadic rhythm that even had Lucifer wincing. It didn’t take long after that for Asmodeus to set his own cup down and ask Lucifer “3” Taking a deep breath Lucifer placed his cup back on the table before sinking back into his chair, finally able to still his jittery body as he crossed one leg over the other, his arms resting on the arm rest and trying not to claw at the wood. 

In order for him to get anything useful out of this Lucifer had to tell Asmodeus everything. Well maybe not everything but he needed to know what exactly had happened for Lucifers issue to be considered a problem that he couldn’t deal with on his own. That was the difficult part though because how did Lucifer tell the embodiment of sin that he was so in love with a sinner that he wanted help being less horny about it. Not the easiest subject to broach on a normal day but less so today considering what had happened only a few hours ago on his couch. 

He swallows nervously, wetting his lips and looking anywhere but at the man sat opposite him. He struggles to find the right words, mind coming up blank when he tries to think how best to explain his current situation. He really should have prepared this before he came down here, but he had barely taken the time to get dressed properly let alone formulate a full blown speech on why he needed the demons help. Unfortunately, in these situations Lucifer tended to babble a bit and now was no different, Lucifer simply blurting out that he was “seeing someone, who’s not my wife. EX-WIFE! Because she left me and now we’re not married. HAHAHA! That’s why I’m seeing someone now. Yes I am. A lovely someone, person, WOMAN! She’s funny and kind and Charlie loves her, so that’s a-maz-ing. But um, we’ve been seeing each other for a few months now and well, you see it’s um been a bit difficult. NOT the relationship. That’s perfect. She’s perfect but erm ugh…” Lucifer stumbled over his words, his explanation all over the place and often going off in weird directions before he managed to get somewhat back on track. 

It doesn’t get any better, though Asmodeus listens to his ramblings, clearly taking it in though Lucifer has no clue how he’s making any sense of what’s being said. Lucifer knows he doesn’t explain himself very well, even makes it sound like he has the complete opposite problem to what he actually does and has to scramble to correct himself because Lucifer doesn’t “have an issue with you know, getting it up. Quite the opposite in fact. If she so much as looks at me it’s like hello! But she’s…she’s not…she’s never.” Lucifer fumbled over his words, unable to really express his issue despite being here to do just that. It was stupid really, Lucifer knows that but when he really thinks about why he has such an issue with being with you physically it all boils down to the fact that Lucifer would be your first lover and he was terrified of messing it up and hurting you. 

Lilith had been Lucifers first, but he hadn’t been hers, Adam having staked that claim before Lucifer had even set eyes on his future wife. Her encounters with the first man had been rather disappointing and as a result the two of them had been given the opportunity to learn each other’s preferences together though Lilith had most definitely been the one to lead in the early days of their relationship, teaching Lucifer the best ways to please her. There hadn’t been anyone else apart from that one time with Eve but that had been done with Lilith’s blessing and the mother of humanity hadn’t been exactly virtuous at the time either. The point was that Lucifer had never been anyone’s first and even though he has eons of experience he still feels ill-equipped to be given such a precious gift. 

Lucifer wanted your first time to be special, like world altering seeing fireworks special and he wasn’t sure how to do that when he had spent eons being the one being led, perfecting his skills to please one person in particular. You weren’t Lilith and Lucifer didn’t want to treat you like you were her, but he had no clue how he was supposed to make your first time together as spectacular as he wanted it to be without doing at least some of the things Lilith had enjoyed so much. He’s being ridiculous, Lucifer knows that but it’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, especially someone struggling to keep their seemingly ever grown sex drive under wraps long enough to actually figure out what to do. 

Sighing, Lucifers dragged a hand down his face and sunk down further into the chair. He needed to be honest if he expected Asmodeus to be able to offer any sort of advice or potion that would help with his problem. It’s embarrassing, even hurts his pride a little bit but Lucifer manages to get it out without sounding like a complete lunatic. “She’s never been with anyone before, and I don’t want to rush her into something she isn’t ready for because I’m too horny to control myself around her. I just need something, anything to help take the edge off, just until she’s ready.” Once it’s out there Lucifer feels a little lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It leaves him feeling hopeful, like there might be a light at the end of it all, a light that's quickly extinguished when Asmodeus finally speaks after what feels like hours. 

No. Asmodeus had said no. Not ‘I’m sorry old pal but nothing like that exists’ or ‘sorry my friend but I can’t do what you ask’. He had straight up said no, to him, to Lucifer, to the King of all Hell including this ring and all the ones beyond. This was getting a habit, people telling him no and Lucifer wasn’t too keen on the trend it was setting. Before Lucifer could demand to know what he meant by no, Asmodeus was talking, explaining that “there is nothing I can give you that will be of help to you but what I do prescribe is that you talk to her Lucifer, because from what you have just told me it seems quite obvious you’re not the only one feeling the physical effects of your love for one another.” Lucifer stares at his friend in confusion, brows drawn down and a frown firmly in place. 

Asmodeus thought it was obvious that Lucifers physical need for you wasn’t one sided. That he was “so hung up on the fact that she’s never been with anyone before that you’re completely missing all the signs she’s giving that prove she’s ready for more.” That can’t be right, can it? Lucifer was sure he would know if you had been trying to seduce him. He wasn’t that dense. Was he? It left him more confused than he had been when he had arrived in lust, mind scrambling to replay every moment he had spent with you in case he had missed something. Asmodeus chuckles at Lucifers silence, gently guiding him to the door and urging him to “go home and think about it Luci, you’ll be surprised by what you learn.” 

Lucifer had done just that, not paying attention to the whispers of the imps and lesser demons that he passed. He had a lot on his mind, a lot of things that needed his upmost attention because he needed to know of what Asmodeus had said was true and Lucifer really had been brushing off every attempt you had been making to seduce him. He went all the way back to the first few weeks after the two of you had officially started dating, remembering fondly how every kiss had been chase and every touch had you blushing the most delectable shade of red.  

It must have been about three weeks after your rooftop date when the first incident had happened, Lucifer getting so caught up in you that he failed to notice what he was doing until you let out a started yelp, pulling away from him and almost falling off the edge of table you were sat on. Lucifer didn’t remember picking you up to place on the side table down one of the hotels many corridors, nor does he remember slotting himself between your legs and deepening the kiss beyond anything you had shared before. Apparently, he had done that and more though because as he had followed your wide eyed look of shock Lucifer had become hyper aware of his erection staring against his zipper and how he had pushed himself tight against your core, letting you feel every inch of him. 

Embarrassment had been the first emotion to register, Lucifer jumping away from you and pressing himself against the opposite wall. He had apologised, rambling out some nonsense about work before dashing off to his apple tower and trying to avoid any of the other souls that may be lurking in the shadows. When he was finally safely locked away in his rooms Lucifer had berated himself for such crass behaviour, but it didn’t matter how often he called himself disgusting, pig, pervert or scoundrel it didn’t chase away the feeling of you against him. The way your hands had tightened on his shoulders when he had first slipped his tongue inside your mouth, or how you had wrapped your legs around him when he slid his hands under your ass and urged you up. And it especially couldn’t erase the way he had slotted so perfectly against you, able to feel your warmth even through two layers of fabric. That day was the first time he had gotten himself off to thoughts of you, gasping and moaning into his pillows like the pathetic mess he was, the endless possibilities of what if playing through his mind. He had felt so ashamed afterwards, like he had violated you somehow. It hadn’t sat well with him, and Lucifer had promised himself that he would do better, be better going forward. 

From then on Lucifer had been hyper aware of his desire for you as well as being unable to forget the way you had stared down at his erection in a mixture of surprise and horror. Had it been horror though? Lucifer had been convinced at the time that you had been disgusted and put off by his obvious arousal but now he was really thinking about he wasn’t so sure. You had been surprised, that he was certain of but if he was remembering correctly it had been more like curiosity than horror. How had he gotten it so wrong? Lucifer had been convinced that you hadn’t wanted that from him, at least not yet anyway, put off by his experience and rather insistent desire for more.  He had thought he would be rushing you into something you weren’t ready for, fixating on the fact that you had never been with another so you wouldn’t know what all your little touches and hooded looks did to him. But you did know, had been doing it on purpose all these months if Asmodeus was to be believed and like the complete idiot that he was Lucifer had just brushed them all off as innocent little gestures that were sent to test his resolve. 

All those gentle touches that had lingered a little to long, the slightly suggestive words whispered in his ear, the kisses that were often followed by a nip to his lip, the posses that looked like somewhat innocent versions of Angel Dusts, the boldness of you crawling into his lap and taking control of a kiss that hat left Lucifer breathless. There were so many things Lucifer had missed or glossed over, his own fears about doing right by you making him blind to what you were desperately trying to offer him. He was an idiot, a truly spectacular dimwit who had royally screwed himself over and all because he had been incapable of seeing what was right in front of him.

Asmodeus had been right; Lucifer really hadn’t seen what had been right in front of him this whole time, but he saw it now and he was going to damn well show you that he was ready too. As long as you will still have him that is. 

[forecast0ctopus]

Any advice on drawing McCoy? I’m not used to drawing ancient wrinkley bastards (affectionate) and it’s surprisingly tough v-v

FOR SURE lmao i made. a diagram. just a warning that i am going to be irritating and long winded because u just hit a topic i really like sorry lmao

so first off i did some traces just to show whats there vs redraws to show my interpretation

ive said this on other asks but again jsyk, tracing isnt bad!! its a tool. theres some stuff with intellectual property and whatnot but using tracing to study shapes and forms is a really valuable practice.

also just taking some time to learn facial structures and anatomy is super useful, reading what bones and muscles are where and how they interact with one another. taking this info and staring in the mirror and moving your face around and thinking about it. just really furthers understanding of how the face works. trying to sound normal about this but i love anatomy and motion and physics and whatever

anyways im going to go through all the numbered points so there's no confusion. 1. forehead lines - self explanatory. more prominent when brows are raised 2. crows feet - at the outer corners of the eyes, more prominent when smiling or squinting 3. nasolabial folds - the folds that go from the corners of the nose to the corners of the mouth. more prominent when the mouth is wide, like smiling 4. brow furrow - self explanatory, most prominent when brows are furrowed. mccoy tends to have two right next to his eyebrows, kirk has one in the middle. everyones face works different lmao 5. chin crease - caused by how the chin and lower lip interact. 6. nasojugal groove - start from the inner corners of the eye and can extent over the cheeks. everyone has these and idk why people dont like them i think theyre really cool!!!! but Society. i guess. :/ 7. eye bags - caused by the skin sagging beneath the eyes. mccoy isnt even that old in tos i think hes meant to be mid 40s by the end of the 5 year mission, hes just got really prominent eye bags lmao 8. idk what the name is for these, but when the mouth is wide and pushes the skin to the sides, these folds sometimes form outside of the nasolabial folds 9. philtrum - the groove above the upper lip. i dont usually draw this but mccoy's struck me as prominent enough that i usually draw it on him 10. masseter - the muscle that moves the jaw up and down. its a pretty rugged muscle and while i wouldnt say mccoy's is especially prominent, it kind of extends that nasojugal groove from certain angles/positions 11. orbicularis oris - mouth muscle, usually easier to see when lips are pursed or frowns are pulled. mccoy's is pretty prominent from 3/4ths or side, his mouth tends to protrude in profile 12. this isnt a muscle but more of a line defining the planes of the face, but since i drew it i felt i should explain lmao

a few points:

im an animator i tend to exaggerate and emphasize certain things so i usually make him more square.

i like to combine eyebags and crows feet for brevity/flow, same with nasojugal grooves, eyebags, and masseter lines. my approach is always subject to change based on pose, expression, reference image, etc.

i take out details that i deem redundant or cluttering and keep what details i need to make things feel Right

all this info is applicable to any character of any age, its just in how you apply it and facial proportions that willl change how old a character is perceived to be

there's a lot more with drawing a Character rather than an Actor, just because the features are there doesnt necessarily mean things will feel correct? its very much in the mannerisms and poses and expressions

i only went over my approach to his likeness but not really body type or posing or anything idk if u want that i could always try to answer that later haha

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anyways all that info kind of exists nebulously in my brain while i draw its not like im sitting there thinking Must Draw. Nasolabial Fold...... i jsut do what feels right with the visual info i have. also i love specificity in faces.... i dont like to be a hater but when every character is drawn the same it pisses me off a little lmao. so

also dont take my word as The Only Way to do anything i just draw how i like to draw and no one should feel like these are things that Must be done to be a good artist or anything do whatever the hell u wanna do