#third attempt!! and it works sorry

[midnightcowboy1969]

😈📸What do you hear? What do you see?🔥

#third attempt!! and it works sorry #stephen lang #manhunter 1986 #my fancam #my edit #for myself #lang tag

[feistyfreaks]

the physical p2 - miguel o’hara

pairings ❀ ⋮ doctor!miguel x shyf!reader

₊❏❜ content ⋮ softdom, sweet tempered mig, dirty talk, genitalia touching, loss of virginity, lube tasting, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, porn with a taboo subject, and nicknames.

note ⋮ i was going to leave it as a oneshot but since you guys were interested for a part two here you have it. i just wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes on my last post, i really do appreciate it. might’ve came out a little short but anyways i hope you enjoy 🌷.

not proofread !

taglist ⋮ for the people who asked to be tagged, thank you for liking my work ➯ @hazelnutbitch, @reverieblondie, @m4dyy, & @pewpunk ➯ wanna be tagged? click the link to join the taglist ♡.

part one.

✧*･ﾟ

you jumped out of your car in a hurry but your foot got caught on the carpet, your weight falling forward as you landed on your palms before hitting the pavement with a painful thud.

you yelped, your hands were all rusty now.

great, as if you needed your morning to get any worse.

you laid there, feeling helpless, but you helped yourself up, hissing at the rashes left on the palm of your hands. you dusted off the dirt from your pants and beeped the car locked. you swerved a corner, dashing into the double doors and swinging them open.

the bell jingled that hung from the door as you jogged into waiting room, “name?” the lady asked, eyeing your messy appearance.

“y/n l/n” you replied shortly, a little out of breath. “your appointment was at nine fifty, it’s past ten.” she clicked her tongue, a little annoyed.

“sorry, i got caught in traffic.” you lied, forcing a smile and interlaced your hands together to appear more presentable.

“it’s okay, i’m sure the doctor is still willing to attend you - just need you to fill this out real quick and then the nurse should call you in.” the lady replied handing you a form. “thank you.” you replied, taking the clipboard with the paper stuck onto it.

you walked past empty chairs and the corner that was the farthest part away from the door. you sat down, your back sinking into the chair as you sulked.

how could you meet his gaze after everything? how you completely made a mess on his clothes because of how excited you got. the thought gave you extreme second hand embarrassment.

“fuck me” you exhaled under your breath, grabbing the pen as you scribbled on the paper aggressively.

first you slept over your alarm, second you threw on a random outfit that didn’t even match, and third of all the only thing you ate was half a granola bar you stuffed inside your mouth before you fell face forward on the road.

you took a deep breath.

‘it’s okay.’ you smiled, trying console yourself.

‘no it wasn’t.’ you frowned.

a couple minutes go by and you hear the nurse call out for you.

“y/n l/n.”

you rose up from your chair not long after, handing over the paper you filled out and walking into the examination room. instant flashbacks hit you all at once from last years physical when you stepped in.

you eyed the room, plopping down onto the bench.

“so how’d it go?” the same nurse from last year asked with a grin. your eyes slightly widened, realizing what she had meant.

“it went well.” you lied, shortening your answer to avoid any further questioning.

“so.. was he nice?” the nurse continued as you stared at her, giving her a look that said ‘i don’t want to talk about it’.

but it seemed like she didn’t get the idea because she was still searching for a response from you.

“he was sweet i guess.” you replied softly.

the room was silent as she finished taking your blood pressure. “all done, here’s the robe - you know the drill and the doctor should be in soon.” she bubbled, giving you the robe that was neatly folded.

“have a good day!” she beamed, heading out the door. “you too.” you attempted to return the enthusiasm, only for it to come out dry. as she closed the the door behind her you slid your heel around and turned a 180 degree angle before getting down to work.

you ripped off your horrendous outfit you threw on earlier and kicked off your sneakers, leaving your socks on as you wrapped the white fluffy robe around your waist.

you folded your clothes like you did the first time coming here, and then you crawled onto the examination table and waited.

your eyes were glued onto the handle on the door as the clock ticked intensely. you could hear your erratic breaths from the inside of your head. you began to think about all the outcomes this situation could end in.

but another part of you was slightly eager to be here again.

you wanted to see him again.

you might’ve or might not have developed a teeny tiny crush on your doctor.

what?

you couldn’t help it alright.

he was just too good to be true.

the loud knock interrupted your thoughts and snapped you back into the realm of reality. and as the handle turned, you immediately sprung up.

yet again you met eyes with the same gorgeous man you met a while back. and as soon as he stepped in he locked the door behind him with a simple click.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it, love?” he spoke, his voice deep and seductive.

you could’ve sworn you had folded right there and then, all over again.

“it has been.” you gulped, choosing your words out wisely as you broke eye contact for a brief moment.

“i thought you wouldn’t come back after all that.” he chuckled softly. “you made quite the mess.”

your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he couldn’t help but laugh at your shyness. “i’m sorry i-i didn’t mean it.” you murmured, lowering your head.

“no need to apologize baby, don’t be embarrassed about the way your body reacts, besides it’s not in your control.” he replied. you remained silent as you found yourself heating up quickly.

“so how was your morning?” he asks, changing the topic and approaching you ever so casually. his thumb and pointer finger lifted your chin up to get your attention.

oh gosh, and as he mentions it you wanted to rip your hair out remembering how horrible your morning had started off. angry tears formed in the corner of your eyes as all the stress boiled back into your bloodstream as they threatened to drop. so you found yourself rambling to doctor o’hara about how your morning was a mess.

“oh baby, i’m sorry to hear that. you sound so pent up, maybe you could use a hand and let me ease you up, hm?” he cooed understandingly, wiping your tears away.

his comfort and sympathy made you feel better, and you forgot about the doubts you had when arriving. you felt attached to the man as you nodded, not giving much thought to his offer.

he leaned in and gently pecked a kiss to your cheek, his hand reached to caress your arm blandly.

“tell me, what’d you do all year because i spent mine thinking about you none stop.” he whispered, placing wet slow kisses on your jaw.

you blushed at his confession ~ a shiver running down your spine when his hot mouth connected to the warm skin on your neck.

“i visited family.. a-and” you moaned softly, feeling him nip at your neck. “i spent most of it studying and taking exams for college.” you hummed, slowly exhaling.

“that doesn’t sound very fun darling, how about i take you out to dinner tonight and we can go on vacation sometime wherever you’d like?” he suggested, pulling away from your neck to view at the effect he had made on you.

“really?” you asked with a flustered look on your face. “of course, just to see that pretty smile again.” he murmured, squishing your cheek and leaning in and closing the gap between you two.

his lips attached onto yours, the kiss was slow and doting before a hunger aroused in him. the sweet and moderate kiss had vanished and converted into a rough and greedy one.

his hand snaked around the back of your head, pressing you deeper into him as he began to kiss you more vigorously. you let your guard down, becoming weak as his tongue slipped into the submissive of your mouth.

a mewl tore from your throat as you wrapped your arms around his neck. the two of you making out in heat in the examination room.

he bit your lip before pulling apart from you with a cocky smirk, his eyes filled with lust and his lips wet, coated with your saliva. the two of you breathed for air and that’s when you realized the patch of wetness pooling in between your legs.

this time you both were left hot and bothered.

he licked his lips, his eyes hungry with a newfound desire, “do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his arm snaking around the small of your waist to roughly haul you into him until your stomach collided with his.

“n-no” you said under your breath, staring up at him with innocent doe eyes.

your robe was slightly falling from your shoulder, and his hand squeezed your thigh playfully. “been driving me insane all this time, y’know how badly i wanted you to squirt on my dick like that?” he growled vulgarly.

you looked at him, a guilt building up in your heart as you hear him out. “wanna have you make a mess f’me all over again.” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your ear sent a static wave throughout your body.

“the things i would do to you if you gave me the chance.”

“i could make up for it..” you offered, wanting to make things right.

a smile crept on his lips.

he pushed your robe apart as his fingers traced your slit. you felt embarrassed and exposed for how wet you were already. “and how would you like to make up for it hm?” he cooed sweetly into your ear.

he pecked another kiss to your cheek as his digit flicked your swollen clit, earning a whine from you.

with his other hand you listened to his belt unbuckle and watched him pull out his thick, veiny cock as he dragged it against the puffiness of your folds. “you could.. use me..” you gulped, looking downwards you watched his tip tease your entrance.

“use you?” he chuckled. “it’s too early for that love.”

“but you could make it up to me by being my cum dump for today, yea?” he purposed, the head teasing your sensitive bundle of nerves.

your vulnerable gaze peered back into his chocolate irises.

“okay..” you breathed, a familiar heat returning to your cheeks as he turned down your offer. you felt more inexperienced than what you were to begin with.

you watched him open a familiar drawer and pull out a cylinder red bottle with a dispenser.

“it’s cherry flavored, that’s why.” he snickered at your confused expression. “lube has flavors?” you asked, now invested in the lubricant. “mhm, wanna taste it?” he smiles, and with that you opened your mouth as he slips his fingers inside.

you swirl your tongue around, tasting the sweetness of the flavored lube that made you hum, your head cocked to the side as his fingers slip out of your mouth. waiting for a reaction.

“it tastes good.” you laugh, merely shocked. “it gets pretty kinky from favorable lubes.” he grinned, pouring the flavored lube onto your heat. and without giving you a heads up he sunk into you with one smooth motion making you moan and grip the bench beneath you.

miguel slowly bottomed out inside you, waiting for you to adjust to his size. his hand traveled to rest at your cheek. his thumb gently swiping across your plump lip, and his thrust was just as soft. the stretch stung, and your eyes slightly watered. he cooed at you, kissing your teary eyes as he waited patiently.

and when you adjusted he began slow and steadily, grinding into you as your mouth hung open. the two of you moaning at the pleasant sensation of penetrative sex.

you threw your head back, your nails engraving into his biceps. he brought his thumb down to rub at your bud, his rough pad sent a new pleasurable wave of ecstasy to shoot through your veins.

your pussy squelched with how much your juices were dripping down his shaft. he threw your leg over his shoulder and positioned himself to hit your sweet spot. his hips rutted into you with more passion, increasing the friction between the two of you as his tip fucked into the front of your gummy wall, angling at your gspot. “that feel good?” he asked, his arms caging your head.

“yes, harder!” you pleaded. his brows were furrowed, dark orbs glinting with pleasure as he plunged into you, chasing both of your highs.

his thumb roughly kneaded your pearl, “i’m close!” you warned, your orgasm nearing faster than you expected. you shook underneath his grip, gushing messily on his cock and lower abdomen. and with one last thrust he pulsed inside you, his tip bruising your cervix as spurts of hot cum filled you up to the peak. your thighs clamped around his sides. his thrusts coming to an end as you both heaved heavily.

your body laid there limb, and he slowly pulled out of you. he cleaned himself up with a cloth, using the other side to clean you up next. once he finished tucking himself back in his pants, he brought your clothes over to you and helped you change. “you may need to reschedule your appointment, think we got a little out of hand.” he chuckled, his hand coming to caress your cheek.

and so that very morning you skipped your exam and instead were sent home with your doctors cum leaking out of your hole.

#feistyfreaks #hornyhour #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #kinktober

[vienssunshine]

It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but I was extra inspired to write this because of a tik tok my friend sent me. description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long, so when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much for him to handle

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different. 

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day. 

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot. 

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.” 

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped. 

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body. 

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?” 

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer. 

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?” 

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does. 

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him. 

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them. 

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation. 

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent. 

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say. 

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last. 

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“ 

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.” 

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it. 

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.” 

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #touchstarved choso #choso kamo x reader

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.��

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

[rynbutt]

safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore. 

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly. 

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were. 

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom. 

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile. 

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand. 

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour. 

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos. 

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied. 

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around. 

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team. 

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh. 

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone. 

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat. 

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth. 

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again. 

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house. 

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard. 

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house. 

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car. 

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child. 

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this. 

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that. 

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers. 

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him. 

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator. 

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned. 

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression. 

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.” 

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway. 

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly. 

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile. 

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm spencer #dr reid #spencer reid x pregnant!reader #pregnant reader #female reader #spencer reid x fem reader #penelope garcia #criminal minds dr reid #cm x reader #derek morgan #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #jj #emily prentiss

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: bff'sbrother!jungkook, softdom!jungkook, enemies2lovers-ish, he's a lil annoying in this, angst, mentions of rejection, one-sided crush, afab reader, smut, fingering, dry humping, penetrative sex, overstimulation (kinda), etc.

wc: 4076

a/n: another jk fic bc im taking time off work and have nothing to do</3 this went longer than anticipated lol sorry

masterlist

"what are you doing here?", grumbled the man as soon as he opened the door and spotted you on the other side of it.

"can you get out of the way? i'm obviously here for minji."

"she doesn't get here til tomorrow," he responded, though still moving out of the way to let you in.

you were about to snark at him again when he stopped in his tracks, eyes widening when they made contact with the suitcases you were struggling to drag behind you, "why are you carrying suitcases? fuck, don't tell me you're staying here," he grabbed onto one, stopping your movements.

"yes, jungkook. minji told me i could crash here for spring break. what's it to you? your house is big enough. just ignore my presence," you attempted to move your suitcases again, knowing you'd receive no help from the boy even if you asked.

"so you're here to ruin my break?" the complaints were never ending despite having entered the home only mere moments ago.

"stop being a child and get out of my way," you grumbled when the idiot refused to remove his hand from the handle of your suitcase.

he let out a heavy sigh, scrunching his eyes closed in annoyance before speaking again, "okay, move. i'll bring your shit upstairs."

"no, i can-"

"you can't carry all this upstairs. my mom's gonna be mad if i don't offer to help you. just let go," he muttered, pushing your hands away and somehow lifting both suitcases at once as he walked towards the stairs.

without any energy to argue with him, you just followed him upstairs, annoyed he insisted to pretend to do you a favor.

"are your parents home?", you asked, confused as to why he had been the one to open the door.

"no, they went out of town this weekend. they should be here tonight."

"why are you here?"

you knew this was his home, but it was a valid question. this had been the third time you'd spent some sort of school break at minji's house, yet jungkook had never been there during the duration of it, usually only popping up for a day or two by the end of each break.

"you mean in my house?", he chuckled sarcastically.

"you're never here- you know what i meant."

"didn't have any plans this time. why? am i ruining your break?"

the two of you finally made it to the extra guest room in minji's house, with jungkook settling your stuff on the bed and uncharacteristically taking a seat on it, as if planning to hang around. you ignored the thought and went to open your suitcase, planning to unpack a few of the things since you'd be staying for over a week.

"yeah," you deadpanned.

he scoffed, "not like i wanna spend my break with you either, princess."

groaning, you threw a folded shirt at him, "ew, i told you not to call me that."

seemingly pleased at having annoyed you, he chuckled and picked up the shirt you threw, folding it and placing it on the bed. he continued to occasionally grab one thing or another as you unpacked. you always knew jungkook to be quite fidgety, so you didn't question him grabbing your stuff to entertain himself as you unpacked.

jungkook wordlessly stayed on your bed as you went around the room organizing your stuff, attempting to ignore his presence but not entirely able to. you were willing to retain peace without complaining, but then he started making noise.

you usually didn't care for his presence too much, even as badly as the two of you got along, but the constant humming quickly got on your nerves. he hummed and hummed and did not stop even as ten minutes passed by, still taking stuff from your suitcase to fidget with. currently he was entertaining himself with a random shoe.

"jungkook! why are you still here?", you suddenly snapped, confused as to why he'd been sitting on your bed with a blank look on his face despite usually being liberal in expressing his dislike for you.

he looked at you for a few moments, no emotion on his face before speaking up.

"why don't we get along?"

"what?"

"you heard me. why don't we get along? you've been friends with my sister since childhood, but you've always hated me. why?"

"you started it," you murmured, taking the shoe he currently had in his hold and turning around to place it somewhere else.

he got up, walking over to you and turning you around by your shoulders and taking the shoe from you again, "i started it? what are you talking about? you've been rude to me since the seventh grade. i've just been returning the favor."

sighing in frustration, you grabbed shook his hands off your shoulders and stubbornly grabbed the shoe again, "why do you think that is, jungkook?"

a confused look overtook his face at your insinuation of your relationship being his fault, clearly not remembering what you were referring to.

"wha-what are you talking about?"

"god, you're such a dumbass sometimes. i mean, i assumed you didn't remember, but to have confirmation of it just kinda sucks," you chuckled bitterly.

he grabbed onto your shoulders again when you tried to walk past him, "tell me what you're talking about," he insisted.

for the most part, you didn't want to. you still felt embarrassed thinking about it, even if it had been over a decade since it had happened. to know he really didn't remember the source of your dislike for him also didn't really help matters. it just frustrated you at his presence even more.

through the years you had learned not to take the mutual banter too seriously. it was mostly lighthearted, to be honest. but any time you thought back to how it had started, you became beyond angry at the boy who was seemingly nice too all those he knew but you. sure, you had technically been the one to source this animosity, but he bad been the instigator of it after all.

you had been nine years old at the time, having recently moved into town and befriended minji. she had been your salvation, becoming instantly interested in being your friend despite you being brand new. you became quick friends, hanging out inside and outside school almost every day.

minji had the good fortune of being extremely close to her family, which allowed you to bond with them quite a lot. that was when you met her older brother, one of her favorite people in the world.

jungkook had been pure perfection in your young eyes, seeing him as unattainable at the young age of nine. he was two years your senior, which made you come to the quick realization that your crush would remain one-sided forever. except this didn't stop your naive heart to read into his nice demeanor and wishfully believe that maybe he'd like you back.

you crushed on him silently for three years, even coming to befriend him in the process. you wouldn't see him too often, but it was always nice when you did, always getting along quite well. this continued up until you hit twelve years of age, your tweenhood years. unfortunately, jungkook was now into his teens, meaning that he followed the footprints of every other man and had a short-lived phase where he was a bit insensitive to girls his age.

being completely delusional and being on your way to graduate middle school, you took a leap, deciding to invite jungkook as your date to your middle school prom. you had thought you read all the signs right, thinking that even if he rejected you, he'd still be nice enough to go with you as a friend. your hopes were completely crushed when he turned you down with zero hesitance, even patronizing you in the process.

the worst part of it all came later, when you were first entering high school. somehow a few of his friends had gotten word of the situation, dubbing you as desperate and obsessed with him. although the rumors died pretty quickly, and you were able to feign indifference to jungkook and everyone else, the seed of hate began to grow in you. little by little, you stopped speaking to jungkook altogether, eventually coming to proudly dislike him. despite minji's constant questioning about your change in demeanor towards her brother, you never told, not wanting any drift to be caused between you and minji, nor her and her brother.

the gradual change in your feelings for jungkook had been so natural that it made sense for him to not remember the source of the current state of your relationship. he had caught on naturally, simply bantering back with you whenever you gave him attitude. it was likely that he believed it all to be lighthearted at first, eventually becoming accustomed enough to it to not question it.

and now you were here, having to explain a stupid childhood heartbreak to the perpetrator of it all as he stared down at you in absolute wonder.

"eighth grade, jungkook. remember?"

he shook his head in confusion, his eyes still wide as his brain wracked itself to remember.

"the dance?"

"the dance? what dan- oh! the- the dance? that's it?"

'that's it'?

he mustve caught the look of annoyance in your face, as he quickly went to retract himself.

"fuck, wait. i didn't mean it like that, just- is that why you hate me? because i said no to you?"

you took a step away from him again, still frustrated, but his arms remained on your shoulders so you would keep looking right at him. it was awkward and extremely uncomfortable considering the context, but you didn't move away.

"it wasn't just that, jungkook," you started, "was it that horrible of a thought to go to the dance with me? i was twelve, you couldve been nicer about it. and to tell your friends about it? i was mocked for weeks after that. and now you wanna act like this is my fault? like ive just been mean to you for no reason?", you scoffed, looking at your feet in favor of not having to look at him.

"wait, who ... who made fun of you? i- i never told anyone what happened. why would i do that?"

"jungkook, stop. taehyung? jimin? they wouldn't stop bringing it up for weeks. it died down after a while, but i was already humiliated."

he shook his head and denial, seemingly at himself. finally letting go of you, he sat back on the bed, look of confusion still on his face before a lightbulb metaphorically manifested itself above his head.

"oh fuck," he muttered, "i- i remember now, but it didn't go down the way you think, okay? let me explain."

you crossed your arms and nodded, signaling for him to continue.

he uncrossed his arms, running them through his hair in a frustrated fashion before he began to explain, oddly passionate as he did so, "i told them right after it happened. i felt so bad for saying no to you, they noticed how down i was about it and asked. i swear i didnt say anything bad. fuck, i never knew they teased you about it, im so sorry," he rambled, "and i didnt- i didnt mean to make you feel bad when i said no. you're my sister's best friend and- and you were so young. i know it doesnt matter anymore, but saying yes felt wrong. it felt like id be taking advantage of you somehow."

"jungkook-"

"if it makes you feel better," he hesitated before continuing, "i, uh, i kinda had a crush on you when we were 17. i- i was going to ask you to my prom, but you picked a fight with me that day and told me to get the fuck out. thats, that's kinda when i started to hate you back," he smiled awkwardly towards the end.

that took you for a bit of a loop. you weren't a heartless asshole. it wasnt like you meant to hurt him through your dislike of him, but rather protect yourself from further rejection. it made you feel bad to know that you'd somewhat done a similar thing to him at some point, even verbally berating him time after time when his intentions hadn't been malicious.

"are you serious?"

"do you really hate me? for what i did, i mean," he interrupted.

did you? for the most part, you had just grown far too used to your animosity with jungkook. due to your own mean behavior towards him, he became equally as rude, creating a vicious cycle of disrespect between the two of you. but did you hate him?

the answer was probably not.

if you did, your heart wouldn't have jumped at the mention of him having had a crush on you back when you were seventeen.

"no, i don't hate you. do you?"

he turned to you, shaking his head, "of course not," he confirmed, "do you wanna start over?", he asked, getting up from the bed and walking over to you.

you couldn't help but chuckle at his sudden proposal. you also couldnt help in nodding in agreement, confirming that yes, you'd be willing to put aside a petty middle school misunderstanding in favor of starting over.

then he opened his arms, gesturing for a hug before asking for permission for one, "hug?"

wordlessly, you accepted the offer of a friendly hug, reasoning that it was only natural considering how touchy he was with everyone other than yourself.

when you went to pull away, his arms tightened around you, head burying itself further into your hair, "just a little longer," he murmured.

with no reason to deny him, you wrapped your arms around him once more, only letting go when he started to slowly pull away.

that's when you made the mistake of looking up at him as he attempted to make himself let go of you.

seemingly, he had made the same mistake, now locking eyes with you at a proximity far too close for two people who hated each other just mere minutes ago. stupidly enough, your eyes predictably went down to his lips, not realizing his own had done the same. the only difference was that he was far more daring than you, allowing his lips to lower down onto yours and envelop them in a soft kiss.

greedy hands dug into your hips before making their way to your waist, holding you as close to him as he could. your own hands wrapped around his shoulders, moving to play with his hair as soon as the kiss turned more heated.

moaning against him, he pulled away for a second, still keeping his lips entirely too close to your own as he breathed through his nose to calm himself down. the following kiss was even more harrowing, causing you to take a step back due to the sheer force of it. he walked you back, pressing you up against the nearest wall as he took advantage of being able to crowd you, allowing his hands to get a feel of your body as you kissed.

despite how pathetically you followed his lips, he still pulled away, throwing his shirt off before going back to kissing you, letting his hands wander underneath your own shirt as he did so. his hands dug deep under your shirt, feeling up your bare breasts and groaning at the lack of bra.

gradually, his lips made their way to your ear and then down your neck, murmuring against your skin.

"fuck, so fucking pretty ... and so needy for me, huh? sound so good moaning for me like that," he breathed against you.

you burned up, embarrassed by how easily he had an effect on you, but you still let him do whatever he wanted, knowing that nothing you did would prevent your body from wanting his touch.

throwing off your shirt, his lips trailed down even further south, latching onto your nipples and groaning into your skin at the way you arched your body, pressing up even closer to him.

but suddenly there was a shift.

jungkook halted his movements, making his way back up to your lips and locking them with his own in a heavy and greedy kiss, resulting in a lack of breath from both of you. against your lips, he whispered something that made your knees buckle.

"i'm gonna pay you back for all those times you were mean to me, baby," his lips moved to your ear, chuckling at your anticipatory shudder, "gonna do whatever i want with this pretty body, yeah?"

nodding pathetically, you gave way for him to do anything he wanted. already drenched, there was no way you could possibly formulate any words that didn't come out as an embarrassing whine. he seemed to enjoy this too, holding a pleased smirk in his face as he easily dragged you over to the bed, pushing off your suitcase and dropping you on it with a bounce.

before you could even think, jungkook had already thrown off his shoes and undone his pants, his hands coming to do the same to you. your shaky hands attempted to help him, but he simply tsk'd at you, letting you know that he'd take care of everything tonight. everything, he emphasized.

"oh, fuck," he groaned once you were fully nude, "this is all mine now, yeah? fuck, been waiting for years for you to stop being a brat and let me have this pretty body all to myself," he kissed your lips between each sentence, "might lose control at how gorgeous and mine it is ..." he murmured as his hands took their rightful place exploring your body.

"kook-" you whined, already wanting him to do something – anything.

"shh, baby," he coo'd, "i'm gonna do whatever i want. and you're gonna take it like a good girl, okay? gonna behave for me for once."

fully crawling on top of you, jungkook went back to making out with you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he began humping against your already soaked cunt.

groaning, he pulled away for a second in favor of nibbling softly at your lip, "oh, this pretty pussy's so fucking soaked already ... thought you hated me, baby, what happened?" he chuckled darkly, giving you no room to answer before shoving his tongue in your mouth.

just as his tongue attempted to suck all air out of you, his hand suddenly snuck between your bodies, finding your cunt with ease and beginning to drag his fingers up and down your folds, not giving you want you needed.

"pretty fucking pussy," he murmured, "gonna play with your clit now, baby. it's gonna cry for me by the time im done."

his fingers found your clit almost immediately, taking turns in rubbing teasing circles over it and hammering in and out of your cunt. he swallowed every single moan, groaning against your lips any time your cries went so high they went straight to his cock.

"that good, pretty? so good that you have to cry for more? oh, baby. you're so lucky this pussy's so fucking cute. lucky i cant control myself around you ..."

"f-faster, please ..."

"faster? oh, like this?", his fingers slowed down drastically, barely stimulating you at all as you cried and clawed at his back, whining for more than he seemed willing to give you.

"n-no! please, just- just wanna cum, kookie. please?"

his fingers curled entirely too well at your cry of his nickname, even making him groan when he felt your own reaction to his fingers. it was clear he liked you crying out for him, so the more you did it, the more of his fingers he gave you, leading you to the verge of an orgasm.

afraid he'd try and deny you just for sadistic means, you cried for him prematurely, begging him to let you cum.

"kookie, p-please, please let me cum, i-i'll do anything. i'll give you anything, just, fuck, please!"

there was not a single care in you about how pathetic and out of character you sounded, not when jungkook's wasnt faring any better at the effect your desperation had on him.

"cum. cum for me, baby. wanna feel that cunt cream around my fingers so i can fill it back up with my own, okay? be good for me and- fuck, and cum ..." as much as he wanted to be in charge and show a dominant side to him, your cunt just kept dragging his fingers back in, making him feel a carnal need to steal your orgasm all for himself and many others after this one.

your hand wrapped around his free wrist, needing it as support as an otherworldly orgasm took over you. back arching and eyes rolling back, you became a sight that jungkook had only ever seen in his most depraved of dreams about you. he was surprised at his cock not bursting upon such an arousing view, making him realize that he needed to fuck you as soon as posible before losing his mind.

despite talking you through your orgasm, jungkook still gave you no time to recover before shoving his tongue in your mouth and grabbing his dick to drag up and down your sensitive folds.

crying against him, you attempted to push him away at first, feeling too sensitive for immediate stimulation, but your body gave up quickly after, melting into the overload of pleasure. tears crowded in your eyes, but your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, needing more of that pressure against your cunt.

taking the hint and far too horny to drag this out any longer, he pushed inside you, groaning against you at the feeling of finally being wrapped around your warmth.

"it's so fucking wet ... oh, fuck. you wanted this so bad, didnt you, baby? fucking soaked and just pulling me in ... it's so- so tight n warm n perfect for me," he babbled, lost in pleasure.

jungkook's hips were restless against yours, an insatiable desire to chase for his pleasure taking over him as the sound of skin slapping made him dizzy. the occasional babble accompanied by a pitiful hiccup that came out of you did not help his situation, making him fear that he might cum before you.

"let- let me just get my finger there- yeah, fuck. just gonna rub that tiny little clit, okay? shit, you just tightened around my cock so fucking good ..." he groaned, thumb circling your clit to accelerate your orgasm.

"g-gonna, fuck, gonna cum ... p-please ... with me? cum with me?" you begged, barely able to get a single coherent word out while jungkook showed no mercy against you.

nodding, he kissed you, promising he'd cum – begging you to cum. counting you down, he whispered against your ear while his hips stuttered messily against your own, now completely overtaken by both yours and his orgasm.

the sounds shared between the two of you were nothing short of shameful, consisting of whines and cries filled with desperation. it was a depraved scene only meant for the two of you to enjoy.

pulling out of you proved to be a challenge, as jungkook would happily remained inside you until his last breath, but the thought of holding you innocently in his arms as you caught your breath was something he did not want to miss out on.

and so he held you against him, crowding your face against his chest so you could lay your head right by his heart.

"that was-"

"yeah," he breathed with a chuckle before turning to you with a boyish smile on his face, "i have a confession to make."

you turned around too, unable to not match his smile, "what is it?"

"i lied earlier. i, uh, i did like you when you were seventeen, but ... i kinda still like you."

it was impossible not to feel your face warm up at this, scrunching up your nose at how cutely he had confessed, "what if i said it was mutual?"

his smile somehow got bigger at that, "then i'd say i'm gonna have to steal you away from my sister," he pulled you into his chest again, enjoying the vibrations of your laugh.

a/n: this was rushed and not proofread sorry</3

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts oneshot #bts scenario #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut

[bigfatbimbo]

And I saw sparks —

1.2k Words,, Lucifer x reader

a/n — So this was actually a request at some point but it was literally lost to the tumblr void. I cannot find it for the life of me but it had to do with brushing Lucifer’s feathers so here we are.

summary — Date night for the reader and Lucifer quickly turns into a bonding session where the reader grooms Lucifer’s unkept and touch starved wings.

warnings — Fluff, gn reader, obnoxious flirting, getting together (officially), Lucifer being touch starved and sad.

Lucifer groaned as he tried uselessly to comb the feathers on his far back. He didn’t know if he had enough time to finish pruning when he started, and now, barely a third done, he was sure he didn’t. 

His third date with you was in ten minutes. In ten minutes you would show up at his door and expect a fully prepared, well put together, king of hell to sweep you off your feet.

How could he do that when he couldn’t even brush his own damn feathers? What are you going to think when you see him? Maybe, he thought, you’d simply scoff and leave him totally alone with poorly groomed wings.

How pathetic would that be? He grumbled to himself, dreading the last few moments he had to prepare. What was it now, six minutes? If he’s lucky, eight.

Lucifer was so wrapped up in these pessimistic thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching behind him as he scrambled and whined over his knotted feathers.

“Lucifer, you okay over there?” You asked from the door way. 

He jumped back, brush getting caught up in the fluff of his wings and yanking two feathers out, making him let out a yelp and fall over. 

“Jesus christ, Luci—“ you laugh going over to help him up.

A blush spread across his cheeks. “I didn’t know you’d be here so soon,” he explained brushing himself off, “Wait how did you—“

“You left the door open and I heard very loud groaning so—“ You gesture to him, “—I thought i’d figure out where it was coming from. Oh, and you being demon royalty and all, I don’t think you should just leave your door open like that.”

He could tell you were joking and he was overjoyed that your attention hadn’t fallen to his exposed wings yet, so he played along.

“Actually, i’d argue that’s the very reason I can leave the door open,” he puffed his chest in his attempt to gloat his power.

This backfired when your gaze drifted to his roughly unkept feathers. Embarrased, he drew back.

“Uh, I was just finishing brushing them. They’ll be going away now, bye bye feathers,” he awkwardly laughed and rambled as he turned around him to hide his wings. 

“Wait, if you’re trying to groom them then,” your hands hovered over the wings before retrieving the brush from the table, “I can help with that. I had a friend way back when who—“

“Nononono,” he chirped, scooting back slightly, “I’m supposed to be taking you out and— and I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Lucifer, it’s seriously no trouble. Shit, if anything it’s fun. Let me see,” you gently sit him down and take a seat on the floor behind him. 

Your hands find his feathers and begin combing through the unkept bits Lucifer couldn’t reach himself.

He tried with all of his might to stop his wings from flapping about. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel incredibly soothing having someone else care for his sensitive wings. 

“Oh god,” he sighs, letting his head fall back slightly as you work your way through his feathers. He collected himself seconds later, not wanting to seem weird, “Sorry, it’s just been a while since anyone’s…”

He trailed off so you took pity and finished the sentence for him, “No, it’s okay. It’s cute how flustered you get over shit like this, anyways.”

Your teasing smile makes his shoulders tighten and his head snap back in your direction, “I am not flustered,” he corrected, cheeks reddening, “maybe just discombobulated.”

“Uh huh,” you grin, “Of course, your highness. Are you too good for a little flirting, now?”

“Oh, Lucifer Morningstar is never not ready for a little flirting,” he smirked, trying to hold himself together under your gentle touch.

“Oh yeah? Hit me with your best line.”

“I—“ He struggled, “Uhm. Okay, well maybe I’m a little rusty.”

You rake your fingers through his feathers once more, softening them to the touch, “I’m sorry, I was under the impression that the king of hell had game.”

“I do ‘have game,’ excuse you,” he did air quotes with his hands, “You just put me on the spot. It doesn’t help what you’re doing with my wings, either.” 

His snobbish royalty tone was alarmingly present and he had his arms crossed as he pouted.

It’s true, usually, Lucifer was quite the flirt. If there’s one thing he knew about himself is that he was a hit with the ladies, in his experience, at least.

But maybe it’s because you’re the first person he’s been on a date with since Lilith. Or maybe it’s the way you’re softly raking your fingers through his knotted feathers. Either way, it was making his brain feel fuzzy.

“I’ll believe when I see it, Luci,” you laugh to yourself.

“Oh, i’ll get you good when I catch you off guard, believe me.” Lucifer bragged.

After a moment, the laughter died down as you focused on your work. Every now and then you drew long content sighs from Lucifer. 

Although you seemed happy enough with the silence, Lucifer squirmed uneasily. He felt guilt build up in his stomach.

“So this is some date, huh? Curtesy of the King of Hell, you’re welcome,” he said glumly, picking at a scratch in his marble floor, “Sorry I couldn’t have made this more enjoyable.”

You caught him off guard with a deep, warm-hearted laugh. The kind that made him else feel like he’s  missed a totally obvious joke or reference.

“What’s so funny?” Lucifer asked, clearly perplexed by your response.

“Luci, we’re in literal hell. Compared to everyone else in shit-hole, you’re one of the better people I’ve dated.” You smiled, freshening up a few feathers, “There, done. Good as new.”

Lucifer grabbed a mirror from off the table and examined your work before realizing what was just said.

“Dating?” his spirits rise, hands coming up to his chest before turning to you, “Are we dating?”

The surprise on your face makes him smile cockily. “Catch you off guard, with that one?” he brags.

“In your dreams,” you recover quickly, “And, yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” You look at his expectant face, he grinned brightly.

“Well, you heard it yourself, pretty boy. It seems like we’re dating now,” you laugh and caress his cheek with your thumb.

Completely dumbly, he giggles and leans in your touch.

“Wow,” he simply says. He rests against your hand for a while longer before you pull him in for a kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet while it lasts, and when you break apart, you pepper kisses on his cheeks and nose.

“Stop it, stop!” he laughs as you come to another finish on his lips. “So, uh, do you still want me to take you out?”

“Actually, where’s your tv in this place? Let’s watch a movie, instead.”

And so you do, cuddled up on the couch together with Lucifer’s newly groomed wings draped over you both. 

He nuzzled into your chest, desperate for human contact after being alone for so long. And oh, he was especially glad he was getting it from you.

a/n — Was listening to sparks by coldplay ON REPEAT while writing this, so that’s why the title is like that <3

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #luc

[lexirosewrites]

Wealthy omega Steve going on an arranged date each week to the same restaurant because his parents want him to find a mate.

Alpha Eddie who busks in the parking lot for tips and always offers him a cigarette and a shoulder to cry on after it doesn’t work out.

It takes them a while.

“Another one? That’s the third date this week, pretty boy. You going for a record or something?” Eddie asks, already holding his half-finished cigarette out for Steve to take.

He does. It’s his only reward for doing all of this.

Well, that and Eddie.

Eddie makes this easier.

Steve takes a long draw from it, craving the burn of nicotine more than he cares to admit to himself.

He craves Eddie’s company too, but that’s between him and the cigarette.

“Yeah, my parents are working overtime it seems. They’re bound and determined to have me mated off before spring.”

Steve laughs.

Eddie doesn’t.

“They sound awful.”

They are. Their insistence on old-fashioned values and treating their omega son like a burden to be rid of is proof enough.

“They mean well,” he says. “I think.”

Eddie hums thoughtfully. It’s clear that he disagrees.

Steve passes the cigarette back.

The alpha snubs it out on the sidewalk they’re sitting on instead.

“How long are you gonna keep doing this for?”

“Well, as long as it takes to find someone who’s interested, I guess. There’s not an exact timeline or any—”

Eddie startles Steve when he cuts him off with a growl.

He doesn’t look mad, but his forehead creases, deep frown, and sour scent speaks of irritation.

“Not what I meant.”

Oh.

“I don’t know, Eddie. They’re my parents… and it’s not like I’ve got anyone else knocking down my door.”

Even his dates aren’t interested once they’ve met him in person.

Steve always looks good on paper. He’s attractive and from an upstanding family, a decent investment at first glance.

But then he opens his mouth. That’s where their interest always ends.

Sometime between shaking hands and dessert, their eyes get bored and they start checking their watch more. They don’t bother to hide that they’re running out the clock, eager to be away from Steve.

He thought it would hurt less after a while, but it doesn’t.

“How many times are we gonna do this, Stevie?“

And now even Eddie is bored with him. It makes sense. They’ve been meeting up for months and Steve isn’t worth much for stimulating conversation.

It had to end eventually.

“I’m sorry. I— I didn’t realize I was bothering you. I can leave you to your gigging, man. Let me just—”

Steve reaches for his wallet, pulling out a thick wad of bills to shove in Eddie’s guitar case as an apology for taking up his precious time.

Compensation for the therapy.

“Hey, no— that’s not what I meant, baby. I just— ugh, why is this so hard to say?” Eddie groans, grabbing at his own hair in frustration.

Steve hasn’t the faintest idea what’s ailing Eddie. The guy is normally chill 100% of the time. It’s why Steve goes to him for comfort. He’s hard to shake.

“Sorry?” he tries.

“No, I’m sorry! I just can’t sit here for yet another evening and pretend like there are more fish in the sea for you or whatever,” Eddie explains frantically, his eyes begging Steve to understand.

Ouch. Okay. Point made.

Steve is unlovable, got it.

He stands, brushing off his slacks so his shaking hands aren’t as noticeable.

Keep cool. Breathe.

“Understood. I won’t bother you anymore then. I can park across the street next time too. Good luck with everything, Eddie. I’m sure your band will get signed soon, you’re a talented musician.”

Eddie shoots to his feet, almost tripping over his own lanky limbs in the process.

He grabs the sleeve of Steve’s dress shirt, stopping him from leaving.

“Don’t go on anymore dates.”

Jesus.

“Yeah, I got it the first time, thanks. I’m undesirable. Can you stop repeating it?”

Eddie looks like he’s been slapped, but he doesn’t say anything back. The bluntness must have caught him off guard.

Steve sighs, attempting to pull free from the alpha’s grip.

He almost manages it.

But then Eddie snaps back to reality and his eyes go wide for just a split moment before he kisses Steve right on the lips.

It’s unexpected to say the least.

It’s also probably the best kiss of his entire life. Too bad it’s from someone who just told him to quit dating because nobody will ever want to court him.

They finally break apart and Steve sways.

“Eddie… what in the actual hell are you—?”

“I love you! I love you— I’ve been in love with you for months, but you insist on going on all these dates with alphas who have no taste and they keep breaking your heart and leaving me to pick up the pieces, but I don’t want to keep handing them back. I want to keep you, Steve. I want to be the only alpha you go on dates with.”

Steve stops trying to run away.

Instead, he yanks at the collar of Eddie’s shirt, tugging him into another, longer kiss.

This is love, huh? Makes sense.

His lips are warm and so is his heart. Patched up once more and encased in a body other than his own

No more arranged dates.

“That was a ‘yes,’ in case it didn’t translate.”

Eddie’s face is flushed and his happy smile is infectious.

“I don’t have the kind of money your usual dates have, but I had this really cute guy way overtip me earlier. Can I buy you dinner, pretty boy?”

It’s the first of many.

#slick Sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steddie ficlet #omegaverse #a/b/o

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is shocked by your immunity to being tased.

I received an ask from an anon for this story. Unfortunately, either Tumblr ate it, or I accidentally deleted it; I can’t be sure because I trust neither of us. Gladly, I remember the gist of it. I hope that anon sees it. (Sorry, anon, and thank you for the ask.)

———————————————————————

You push open the workshop door, and notice a curated display of taser gear spread across the table for today’s training session. Ghost, your lieutenant and trainer for the day, occupies a corner, busy with extracting all sorts of stuff—taser guns, pulses, stun batons—from bags and placing them on the table. He catches the sound of your entrance and turns halfway to face you.

“You’re early,” he mutters under his breath.

“I just couldn’t wait, Lieutenant,” you reply sarcastically.

He huffs. “We’ll see about that once training’s over.”

You approach the table, and look at the equipment. You reach out and grasp a taser gun. It looks exactly like a pistol but bulkier and has yellow elements to distinguish it from firearms.

“Could you please remind me how this baby works?” you ask.

He turns his entire body towards you and contemplates your question. Although the training session is just half an hour away, and he doesn’t technically need to explain anything, you’re his weak spot. So he leaves the gear in the bag, walks towards you, and begins to give you a detailed explanation.

It almost feels like a private session, but you have ulterior motives—you’ve already been through a similar class in the past and are eager to skip this one. Despite your repeated attempts to convey this to Ghost, he remained adamant that this course would be a refresher for you and, thus, necessary.

“Once you have a clear shot, you press the trigger.” He concludes.

“Like this?” you ask, directing the taser towards your right foot and squeezing the trigger. It stings, but your previous training has taught you how to get used to the feeling and handle the pain better. Or at least make it look that way.

Your poor lieutenant stands speechless as he looks at the now-fired taser gun. He slowly looks down, where his shocked eyes trace the two wires extending from the device, connecting to your foot.

“What the fuck did you do?” he shouts, gesturing towards your leg.

“Jeez, Lt., you seem stunned,” you comment.

“Are you having a laugh, soldier?” He scolds you with as much authority as he has left from what he just experienced. He drops to the ground, working to remove the wires from your foot. He stands up, alternating his gaze between the device and your leg. Finally, he turns to you.

“How come you’re not in pain?” he asks, confused.

You shrug, unaffected, and pick up another taser from the table. “Maybe the first one was defective; let’s give this one a go,” you suggest, aiming at your other foot and firing.

“Are you out of your mind, Y/N?” he screams in a high-pitched voice and kneels again to retrieve the second taser from your foot.

“Come on, Lt., it’s not as bad as it seems!” You reassure him with a grin, seizing a third taser from the table. This time, you point it at Ghost’s leg. “Wanna see?”

He lifts his knee and gathers his arms close to his body. He looks like a pitcher, ready to throw the ball in a baseball match.

“No, no, thank you very much”, he protests.

“Sure?” You ask and aim at his other leg on the ground.

“Absolutely certain, you maniac,” he says, switching legs. “How far are you willing to go to skip this class?!”

“Not too far,” you reply with a smile, “as far as these two wires go when they get propelled from the taser gun.”

“Cut it out!”

To his relief, the rest of the team enters the room, and Ghost instantly transitions into his authoritative persona. He places both feet on the ground, protrudes his chest, and places both hands on his waist. He clears his throat.

“Take your positions, everyone,” he commands, “everyone except for you, Y/N.”

“Why am I excluded, Lieutenant?” you ask with a pout and a playful wink. “Is it because I’m unfazed?”

“Nah, soldier,” he replies and walks behind you to tidy the wires from the already-shot taser guns, “it’s because you’re a live wire—always keeping me on my toes.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost cod mwii #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic

[lovelybrooke]

Third-years reactions to reader wanting to leave

Sorry this took forever, I've been relaxing with my family, but it's here now, so enjoy. Also, tell me if you want a separate post for the staff, I'm willing to do one.

First years---second years.

Trey

Trey figures out you're thinking about leaving when Riddle comes to him in tears. It was the first time since his overblot that he saw him so distraught. He honestly didn't know what to think, since he was too busy trying to comfort his friend. When he finally got time alone, he was truly just confused. Why would you want to leave? He knows you've always wanted to go home, and that you've been working on it for a long time, but does that really mean you have to leave? You have a good life here, friends, people who care about you. Leaving doesn't really seem like the right option. He's not as erratic as some of the others, but he definitely goes through some emotions. Mostly confusion, then anger, then understanding. He gets why you want to leave, this world hasn't been that kind to you. But that doesn't' mean he's just going to except it without at least trying to get you to change your mind.

And that's what he does. He explains how leaving could lead to a lot of problems. What if something bad happens when you attempt to leave, like another overblot or Grim goes nuts. Who will be here to keep all these rowdy boys in line? He tries so hard to convince you it's a stupid decision, without making It sounds like he thinks you're stupid. He's a great manipulator, and doesn't exactly feel bad when he has to do so. You need to stay,

Cater

Cater figures it out from simply watching Trey. It was easily figure out something was up when Trey seemed out of it, messing up recipes and not behaving like his usual composed Trey self. Honestly, he should've figured it out sooner, with the supposed "sickness" his housewarden came down with not too long ago. It didn't take a genius to figure out what everyone was so hung up on. You wanted to leave, what's the big deal. Wasn't that your whole goal the entire time? Why is everyone so surprised.

Cater puts up an uncaring front, acting the same around you. He even supports you on your adventures in the future when you eventually leave. However, behind closed doors, he's an absolute reck. Crying as he scrolls through photo after photo of you, some with the both of you, and some that you definitely weren't away he'd taken. He'd can't believe you want to leave, after everything that's happened you'd just abandon them. Abandon him. His anger quickly melts into determination. He's just not good enough yet, that's it. That's fine, he can fix it, he'll make everything perfect for you. He gets Heartslabyul back into shape, mainly their housewarden, and demands perfection. He'll get everything back to the way it was before, and then you won't even think about leaving.

Leona

Leona learns about your plan from Jack. Like a good first year he tells him right away. Leon honestly doesn't care, not because he wants you to leave, the exact opposite really. He just knows there's no way in hell that you're leaving. You've managed to enamor some of the most powerful people imaginable, and you think you'll just be able to leave? That's funny, but no.

He doesn't understand what Jack and Ruggie are so worked up about. So what if there's some stupid mirror, there's no proof it works. Even if it does work, one of them will just find a way to get you back, no big deal.

He huffs and complains when Ruggie demands he talk to you, believing he can talk some sense into you. He shows up at your dorm with an uncaring expression, talking to you blankly. He tells you that there's no chance you can leave, and you should get it out of your little head. He yawns, and lays his large body on your couch, before threatening to break that mirror if you do forget about it. He falls asleep right after, like he didn't just scar you.

Rook

Rook likes to keep an eye on you, party because Vill asks him too, and party because he wants to. Because of this, he finds out fairly quickly, but waits to do anything about it until he's sure it's true. Then, he tells Vil so that an actual plan can be made. Though, he's never that worried. He has faith that his wonderful housewarden will be able to convince you to remain in this world. Even as Vil and Epel are panicking, he's calm and composed the entire time.

There is a part of him though, a small, small part of him, that wonders what life would be like without you. His mind is blank when he tries to do so, however. You've brought so much beauty into his world, without you it would just be cold and grey. He's reminded of this beauty whenever he watches you, you're so brave and compassionate. He's drawn to you in a way he cannot explain, there are never enough words to do so in one sitting. So, instead, he sends you poem after poem, all in different spots each day. He just wants to remind you that people care about you. Though, as time goes on, and the year gets closer to ending, the poems become more and more sinister and creepy. They're filled with dark reminders of what everyone would do to keep you here, with them. The once sweet and loving lines are replaced to be dark and obsessive.

You wonder what Rook truly feels, if the flowery words you came to enjoy were just a front for the deep and obsessed loved he truly felt.

Knowing him you'd never really know.

Vil

Vil learns from Rook, and he can't believe it. You? Leaving? That can be right? Though, Rook came to him with enough evidence for it to be possible. For a second he considers breaking down right there. If you leave, what would everything he'd done be for? He's worked so hard to become someone you'd love, and you're just going to leave him. He doesn't though, he remains calm and poised, and quickly comes up with a plan with Rook. He knows something must be done about this, especially before others find out.

Whenever Vil is done however, he's a mess. He's in shambles, wondering what he could've done better. Maybe if he was prettier, kinder, smarter, just...more, you wouldn't want to leave. He runs through his mind, wondering what he could do to make you stay. In the end, he decides it's best to talk with you, over the phone however, you can't see him like this. He pleads with you to stay, to reconsider. If you're worried about where to stay during the summer, he's sure his father wouldn't mind you staying with them. Do you not feel happy here? What can he do better, please just tell him so he can fix this, so things can go back to normal, please?

Idia

Idia learns from his brother, who's distraught. Honestly, he should've expected this. He knew this great thing would never last, someone who was kind to him and treated him like a person rather than a bother. He knew you'd get bored and leave. It doesn't make it any less disappointing when you do though. He sits in his room and doesn't leave, which isn't that strange for Idia. What is strange is him being so motivated to keep you here. He hacks into any devices that you have, seeing who you're talking to incase someone convinced you to leave. He also watches you through these devices, making sure you don't actually do anything you might regret.

He almost feels bad, snooping through your stuff like this. Emphasis on almost, however, since this isn't the first time he's done so. It's like he's numb to invading your privacy. He justifies it by believing that he's doing good, he's preventing you from leaving them, from ruining everything everyone has worked for. So what if he's snooping through your phone and reporting back anything suspicious to the others, it's your fault for wanting to leave them so badly. Even with all the mental gymnastics he does, he never once tries to contact you, too afraid of what you might say or do. He doesn't want to loose your friendship, and he can't stand you being mad at him. He's content with watching you from a distance, regardless of how creepy it is.

Lilia

Lilia's known. From the moment the thought was put into your small human head he's known you were planning on leaving. Honestly, he doesn't blame you, the children around this school are anything but subtle. If it wasn't for the lack of resources, you'd would've left this place sooner. But no, you're still here, and you've wormed your way into the hearts of these precious students, and now you have to face the consequences. He doesn't see a point in contacting you or trying to get you to change your mind. He knows that you're serious about it from the befuddled reactions from the students. In fact, he spends most of his time trying to comfort Malleus, since Sebek just had to go and tell him.

"Oh don't worry Malleus, they're not gonna leave." He coons to the poor dragon and he wallows. In truth, he fears for you, for Malleus's reaction. He knows it's only a matter of time before his sadness becomes rage, and at that point Lilia isn't sure he can help.

Lilia doesn't want you to leave. In fact, if you were just a bit smaller he's sure he would've picked you up and never let you go. You're just adorable, thinking you can leave them. And even if you do, there's always a possibility that they'll just find a way to you.

Malleus

In rained the day the news was brought to Malleus from Sebek. Well, rain was really and understatement, it was more like a thunderstorm, rattling all the windows in the school, threatening them to break. It was no secret that the Diasomnia housewarden was enamored with you, he never cared to hide it. So when rain and wind came crashing down, no one spoke a word about it, too afraid of what might happen to them.

Malleus can't possibly wonder why'd you want to leave, they've spoiled you to no end, provided you a home and care, practically worshipped you. He's personally made sure that you were treated the best, because you were the best, at least in his eyes. So what if you were just some magic-less human, you were his magic-less human, and that's all that mattered.

Malleus spends the beginning wallowing in his own pity, too depressed to leave his bed. He's afraid to face you, party because he doesn't know what he'd do when he'd finally see you again. He spends his time being comforted by Lilia, who tries to convince him that you leaving is impossible, which Malleus never believes.

Finally, when the skies clear and people can finally go outside again, do they see Mallues walking the Halls of Night Raven. He's composed, standing tall and regal. When he arrives at your dorm, seeing you for the first time in days, he doesn't belittle you or loose control. Instead, he offers you a smile, before taking your hand as you fall into a deep slumber.

There, he erases any silly little thought about leaving. You'd awake like nothing happened, smiling and happy, ready to see the friends that cared so much about you. You'll never know about the mirror missing from your room, or the chaos you caused because of an offhanded comment made at lunch. All you'll know is you had a silly little dream that felt way, way too real.

---

A/n: I hoped you enjoyed, sorry for taking so long.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

[junipers-archive]

Sweater

Word Count: 600

Includes: fluff! the team finds out about reader x Spencers relationship when you show up to work wearing one of his sweaters

"Y/n." It was Penelope, she was whispering conspicuously as you entered the office heading for the conference room.

"Goodmorning!" You answer quickly as you were already running late due to your much needed coffee run this morning.

She begins to trail after you. "Y/n."

You stop, now wondering what's wrong, especially as all the heads in the room begin looking towards you as you walk in. But it isn't until Derek speaks up that you're hinted as to why,

"So you and pretty boy finally did it?" Oh no.

You mind races trying to figure out how he knew. Did Spencer tell him? You'd agreed not to tell anyone at first so you wouldn't cause absolute chaos. But it's been sixth months you guess it's be perfectly reasonable if-

"Your-your Sweater...its Spencers." Penelope elaborates, calming you rampant mind, all at the same time making it spasm.

You look down silently at what you're wearing, its almost identical as your regular getup, but because you were really running late this morning you'd grabbed a sweater from the couch in your shared apartment on your way out.

Completely missing the fact it was Spencers. It had been a soft cobalt blue color crew neck, one of his favorites with little designs lining it in navy...and also one he wore quite often.

You stared in both disbelief from how you'd manage to grab the one he used most consistently and also at your own stupidity and how you'd failed to notice the whole car ride here.

You look up bewilderedly, to find your colleagues staring at you all in varying ways, Derek was grinning, Rossi was smirking, Penelope had taken to a worried/excited look, Emily was respectfully trying to hide her smile and even Hotch was pretending to read the papers in front of him to avoid eye contact.

You attempt a reply calmly but stammer despite yourself,

"I-I-we-um"

closing your eyes to focus your thoughts and breathe, you open them to find Spencer your lovely boyfriend entering or rather staggering into the room.

He had taken the long route so you'd show up at different times,

"Hi! Sorry I'm late-I just-I-What-why's everybody looking at me like that?"

Everyone shaking their heads and smiling to themselves ignored his question as Penelope began to brief all of you on the case.

You hope the subject will be forgotten.

But of course it won't be, and surprisingly its Hotch that asks once the case had been explained and he'd called wheels up,

"Are you two dating?"

Everyone was still seated, waiting for something to be said, and you could see the pleasure in all their faces as he uttered the question.

Spencer swallowed though, not having become aware of the situation even after you'd tried to pass him a note like some third grader.

It had read: I'm wearing your sweater!

To which he'd simply responded with, I'm sure no one's noticed.

Having of course not been aware of your previous interaction with the team.

"We-uh-well-" he tried to begin

"Yes. We are dating." You had to confirm it, knowing if you didn't it would only make matters worse in the long run.

To that Hotch gave his lopsided smirk, "I'm Happy for you, but I'm not thrilled to do the paperwork."

The team of course having heard, errupted in giggles, reminiscent of child like giddy as they finally took it as their cue to leave.

And as they filed out Spencer received several pats on the backs and "good going reid" from Rossi and Derek as you yourself had been berated with questions from Emily and Penelope and "I swear to god if he hurts you-"'.

But as you both shyly retreat, gather your things and exit you agree that the best reaction had been from Hotch as he whispered quietly before he left,

"Well I guess I have to let you room together now."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

#love lab drabbles 💊 #GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #plus size reader #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara x plussize!reader #miguel o’hara x chubby reader #miguel o’hara x chubby!reader #miguel x fem!reader

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Bucking Bronco✨

@bat-boness keeps fucking cooking with their Cowboy Lucifer art and I shall do the same!!! @nayomi247 and @liveontelevision this is your fault too lol, we have now formed a small but mighty Cowboy Lucifer cult fan club

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer finds himself in a punishing situation…

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving), p in v

“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if you would come in from the farm on time, Luci,” you scolded as you finished tying the last knot on his wrists. "I don't think I ask for much."

This was the third night in a row your hardworking husband has missed dinner with you. You let it slide the first night. The second night you gave him a gentle reminder to not overwork himself. But tonight was the last straw. A third night of eating alone with a cold plate of food sitting across the table from you. You loved him dearly, but you hated that his priorities didn’t seem to be in order. You were going to make sure he learned his lesson one way or another. He tried to butter you up as he usually did when he came in from work late, knowing full well what he'd done. You feigned a smile and told him not to give it another thought. You told him to get comfortable and that you would join him upstairs soon. But when you walked into your room with your rope in hand, he gulped. He knew damn well that he was in trouble. You sat him down on the ottoman and wrapped your ropes around his hands and wrists, pinning his arms behind his back, effectively rendering him helpless against your ‘punishment’.

“Darlin’, I-I’m sorry, time just gets away from me sometimes! I-I would never do anything to upset you,” Lucifer stuttered. “P-Please, have mercy…”

You checked the tightness of your ropes before standing in front of your husband, towering over him in his subdued state. “Oh, I’m not upset with you! But since you’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought it’d be mighty kind of me if I helped you relax.” You brought your hand to his chin and had him meet your intense gaze. “Do you want me to help you relax, sweetheart?” you asked, knowing all too well that there was only one answer he could give you.

“Y-yes,” Lucifer responded meekly.

"That's my good boy," you praised, a small whimper escaping Lucifer's throat. You slowly dragged your hand down his open-shirt chest, stopping right above his already very apparent erection. He did his best to buck his hips up in an attempt to create any sort of friction. But all this did was cause you to pull you hand away from him immediately. He whined pathetically. "Behave now," you reprimanded. Lucifer looked up at you with glassy eyes and nodded obediently. You smiled and brought your hand back down to its previous spot, hovering just about his hard-on. You heard Lucifer's breath hitch as you finally placed your palm over his cock that has been painfully straining against his jeans. It took every ounce of willpower in him to remain still while you toyed with him.

"P-Please," Lucifer mewled, "I-I can't...hng..."

You pulled down the zipper to his pants lethargically, watching Lucifer's chest rise and fall more and more rapidly until you finally released his already leaking cock from its confines. "I love how needy you are for me, sweet pea." You gripped his length in your hand and started stroking him meticulously. Lucifer's whines filled the room, you've never heard sweeter sounds than his desperate cries. His precum leaked onto your hand, your jerking motions becoming smoother. You circled your thumb over the head of his cock, applying the lightest of pressure to it. Lucifer cried out as he bucked his hips once more from your teasing. You let go of him again, tears now welling up in his eyes from the loss of your touch.

"I'm sorry!" Lucifer nearly shouted. "D-Don't stop, please...I'll behave, I-I promise!"

"That's strike two, Luci," you warned. "You wouldn't want me to leave you like this, would you now?"

"N-No! Please...", a single tear rolled down his face. You smiled gently and wiped it from his cheek.

"Shh, it's alright," you cooed, "patience, my love. I'll take care of you."

He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down. He knew deep down you wouldn't leave him in such a desperate and vulnerable state. You knelt down on the ground, gripping his shaft once more. You stuck out your tongue and licked up the length of his cock, tasting all the precum that had spilled out of him. Lucifer's voice caught in his throat; he was beyond forming any coherent sentences at this point. He struggled against his binds, losing grip of his control fast. Your tongue circled his swollen tip, eliciting the smallest yelps from your lover, your hot breath driving him insane. You enveloped him suddenly, bobbing your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could. Lucifer was frozen, he dared not move again in fear of the repercussions. Instead, he was loud, moaning and whining from everything you were giving him in this moment. You let him go with a satisfying pop, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Tell me what you want, sugar," you teased him as your hand replaced your warm mouth. "Use your words."

Lucifer's hat had fallen in front of his face, you could no longer see his eyes. You lifted it up only to see them glowing a bright crimson red, his hunger for you now abundantly evident. "N-Need you," he choked out, "need to feel you, n-now. Please...ride me..."

You smirked at him and nodded. You stood up once more, removing your belt in one swift motion and tossing your shorts off so the side, your soaking pussy now in full view. Lucifer gulped audibly. You straddled yourself against Lucifer's hips, teasing his cock with your dripping folds. You decided to wear his hat on your head instead so that you could clearly see the disheveled mess of a man beneath you. He blushed hard at the sight. You leaned down and planted the tiniest peck to his forehead.

"Now, are you going to be late again?" you questioned playfully.

"N-No," Lucifer promised. "I'll come in from the farm on time, I-I swear! You'll never w-wait for me again!"

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." You lined yourself up and slowly lowered yourself onto him, taking him an inch at a time. He was thicker than most, so he knew you needed just a little bit longer to adjust to his abnormal size. Not that you minded in the slightest, he was able to hit all of the right spots without even moving. Once you bottomed out on his cock, you both let out a wanton moan. After a few seconds of letting yourself stretch around him, you began to shift your hips. Your sudden movements forced Lucifer to lean against the crook of your neck for support. He felt as though you were trying to milk him dry. Which is exactly what you were doing.

"F-Fuck, Lucifer," you stuttered, "always making me f-feel so good, baby. Look s-so pretty under me..." Lucifer could barely hear your praises over his own sounds. This was pure bliss, but agonizingly torturous at the same time. His bound hands were eager to touch you, to hold you, to feel you.

"My love, please, I-I'm begging, let me go..." he cried into your shoulder. "I'm so so sorry, I-I...please..." You stopped your movement completely and started gently petting the back of his head. How could you deny him any longer?

You reached down and grabbed the sheathed blade that adorned his hip. "Stay perfectly still," you commanded, reaching around and carefully slicing the ties around his arms and wrists, letting the rope fall to the floor. You tossed the knife far away from you while Lucifer's hand immediately gripped your hips.

"T-Thank you, darlin'," he whispered against you, "let me make it up to you now. S-Show you how sorry I really am." Without warning, Lucifer lifted you up only for him to slam you right back down on his throbbing cock. The cry you let out was lustful and wanting. His hips bucked up into you at a relentless pace, your cunt clenching around him desperately while you both chased your highs. You dug your nails into his shoulders for support as he pounded into you over and over. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach growing larger, threatening to snap any given second as your lover pushed you to your breaking point with each thrust.

"L-Luci," you whimpered helplessly, "I'm close, s-so close, mmph, fffffuuu-uuuccck..." Your pleas only seemed to drive him even madder than he already was as one of his hands left your hips, his thumb finding that small sensitive bundle of nerves. You nearly screamed from the new sensation.

"Me too, sweetheart, m-me too, shit,' Lucifer breathed. "Cum f' me, l-let me feel you cum around me..."

With those words, stars clouded your vision. You felt your cunt pulsate around Lucifer's cock, tightening and squeezing him without abandon, your juices leaking onto his lap. Your orgasm pushed your lover over the edge as well, his grunts and whimpers echoing throughout the room as he filled you up to the brim with his hot seed, having to bite down your shoulder as to not lose himself in the pleasure. As you both started to recover from your highs, you cupped Lucifer's face in your hands and brought him in for a deep kiss. Your tongues fought for dominance, still trying to catch your breath in the process. You pulled away from him, his half-lidded eyes gazing up at your adoringly.

"You owe me a new rope," you chastised lovingly.

~~~

I have no real excuse for this :3

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #BAT THIS IS YOUR FAULT #YOU AND YOUR GOD LIKE ART #hope you like it anyway!

[uluvjay]

Spiked hot coco- L. Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x fem! Teammate reader

In which someone spikes the hot coco at the Mercedes Christmas party and it leads you and Lewis to a supply closet

Warnings? SMUT, penetrative sex(p in v), unprotected sex(a big no no), fingering, sex in a closet, pet names, dirty talk, slight intoxication, consumed alcohol, I know Lewis doesn’t drink but for the sake of the fic plz act like he does, sorry for any errors

Day 9 of my ficmas celebration!

“Whew!” You coughed as the alcohol taste met the back of your throat.

“What?” Lewis questioned as he poured his own cup of hot chocolate.

“Someone had some fun with the hot coco.” You laughed as his face twisted up at the taste.

“Damn” he coughed attempting to clear the burn from his throat.

“What’s happening over here.” You heard a thick Austrian accent question before arms were placed over both your and Lewis’s shoulders.

“Someone spiked the coco.” You laughed looking up at your team principal.

“Oh yes! It’s good isn’t it.” He smiled

“it was you?” Lewis laughed pointing at the tall man.

“Yes, it’s a tradition we do back home. Figured it would help loosen some people up after this season.” He shrugged before walking off to see his wife.

“I can’t with him.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

Lewis nodded in agreement as he looked down at you, you wore a small red dress that hugged you in all the right places, truly leaving nothing to the imagination.

You looked up feeling his dark eyes on you, a blush coating your cheeks when you realized he had been checking you out.

You coughed lightly breaking his trance and he offered you an awkward smile before he took off across the room to go bother one of the engineers.

The two of you didn’t come into contact for the rest of the evening but that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel his stare on you from across the room, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t watching him as well.

Finishing your third spiked hot chocolate you excused yourself from your conversation with Susie and Toto before heading down a hall towards the bathroom.

You could hear a pair of feet following you and while you knew you should be worried something inside you was telling to not be. And just as you were about to pass one of the supply closets you felt a hand wrap around your upper arm and pull you into it.

“What the fuck.” You grumbled turning around to find Lewis once the door had shut. “Lewis! What the hell are we doing in here!?” You scolded once his large body was facing you.

“I needed to get you alone” he whispered, body stepping closer to yours, pushing you closer and closer to the concrete wall.

“Lewis we can’t do this, not again.” You reminded him as his arms caged you in, his expensive cologne mixed with the light sent of alcohol filling your senses.

“Why not baby?” He spoke lowly, one of his tatted fingers reaching up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.

You blamed the butterflies that filled your stomach at the sound of the pet name on the alcohol, but deep down you knew it took a lot more then three drinks to get you drunk.

“B-because, we’re teammates Lewis-it could mess the dynamic up.”

“The last time didn’t mess anything up though.” He pouted, hands moving down to hold your waist.

You cursed in your head as goosebumps appeared due to his touch, “But a second time could, plus you know what Toto said.” You spoke, looking into his deep eyes.

“What Toto doesn’t know won’t hurt him” he smirked, head dipping down to place kisses along your neck.

A gasp came from your throat at the feeling of his lips on you, your body immediately melting under the feeling of his lips on your sensitive skin.

His teeth lightly nipped at the skin, his tongue running over the spot before a kiss was placed there.

“Lewis.” You whimpered, a hand tangling into his freshly done braids.

“Hmm?” He spoke, lips still working all around your neck.

You pulled him from his spot to look at you, “if we’re going to do this we have to be quick.” You whimpered.

A smile covered his face at your words and soon his hands were on the backs of your thighs as he hoisted you up and wrapped your long legs around his waist.

“You sure this is okay?” He asked quickly before you two went any further.

“Completely sure.” You mumbled, allowing all your self control to slip out the window as you slammed your lips against his.

They were just as soft and luscious as last time, fitting perfectly against yours as you two moved in sync. One of his hands slipping below the skirt of your dress to play with your panties while your hands held tightly onto the back of his neck.

“So wet for me.” He groaned, his thick fingers running through your folds.

“All for you.” You cried as one of his fingers pushed inside you.

He pumped his finger for a moment before allowing another to join, scissoring them at a fast pace pulling whine after while from your throat.

“Gotta get you ready for me baby, it’s been awhile” he whispered into your ear, teeth lightly nipping the skin before he pulled away.

His movements started to get messier and faster, the sounds of your whimpers filling the tiny closet and right as he felt your cunt hugging his fingers he pulled them away, a whine of disappointment falling from you at the feeling of emptiness and denied orgasm.

“Shh, baby.” He cooed, using his hand that wasn’t holding your tiny waist to undo his pants and push his hovers down just enough for his thick cock to spring out.

Your body shuddered at the feeling of his tip running up and down your folds, a deep whine echoing in the room as he pushed in side.

He groaned into your neck as he bottomed out, his large hands digging into your hips as the your warm walls welcomed him in.

“Fuck Lewis.” You cried as you felt his tip press right against the sensitive spot inside you.

“So tight honey.” He groaned.

He leaned back to watch your face as his hips pulled back slowly before thrusting hard into you, his hips meeting the skin of your thighs as your soft cries begin to fill the tiny closet.

Lewis rolled up the skirt of your dress allowing him to watch where you two connected, a growl escaping from his throat at the sight of his cock coming out shiner and shiner after each thrust.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He praised, smirking at the whine that came from you at his words.

“Lewis.” You cried the man’s name pathetically as you began to feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Getting close honey? I can feel you hugging me so tight.” He spoke.

“Mhm, fuck! So good Lew.” You cried as his thumb came to rub slow teasing circles around your clit.

“Yeah? Who fucks you this good darling? Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours! All yours Lewis-belongs to you.” You sobbed as your legs began to shake and the heat of your climax spread through your body.

Lewis pressed his lips to yours in a nasty kiss to silence your scream, your nails digging crescent moons into his neck from how hard you gripped the skin.

“Fuck honey, gonna cum.” He groaned, hands tightening even tighter around your waist.

“Come on Lewis, come for me baby.” You whispered in his ear, tongue running along his lobe.

Your name escaped his throat in a deep moan as he spilled inside you, his thrusts stilling as he filled you to the absolute brim.

You two stayed like that for a moment, your nails tracing the back of his neck while his lips left light kisses to your neck.

Finally when he could feel your releases running down his semi-hard cock did he pull out, setting you on shaky legs as he tucked himself away.

He did his best to help you look presentable, brushing his fingers through your hair and wiping away the few tears that had fallen from your eyes.

The closet was quiet but not awkward, you both knew you shouldn’t have done it again but you couldn’t help it.

“Uh-we should probably go back out, Toto is probably looking for us.” You spoke first and the way his face fell had your heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He coughed as he hastily turned to open to door but your hand on his wrist stopped him.

Turning to face you he was met with a shy smile, despite having just fucked you for the second time. “Dinner at my place tomorrow? Be there at five and bring Roscoe.” You smiled, leaning up to place at sweet kiss to his cheek and leaving the room before him.

Butterflies filled the man’s stomach as he watched you walk away, he wasn’t sure how this would work out between the two of you but he was glad you were trying to make it work.

-



#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #mercedes formula one #f1blr #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #lewis x reader #lewis smut #jay’sficmas

[pia-nor481]

Long night, Hard ride

Oscar Piastri x reader smut

1.3k words (sorry it’s so short I struggled with the actual smut)

It was made very clear from their first interaction that Oscar didn't particularly like social events; work social events were no exception. As much as he enjoyed working with, and for, Mclaren, he didn't like any of the launches or parties. This party did not evolve the car and so Oscar was especially angsty, his whole body felt heavy, and it was starting to get difficult to keep proper posture. "You will be okay." She said, trying to comfort him, running her hand over his bicep clad in the black blazer. His eyes were slowly begging to fall, "I know, it's just too much and I'm so tired." Oscar liked to sleep in as much as he could, but the training combined with the early morning to prepare for with event didn't help. The divers were there to secure sponsors for next season, Lando was capable of speaking with sponsors for hours, he was so full of energy that it came easy to him. But Oscar struggled and so was hiding in a corner with his girlfriend. "It will be over soon, at least we have some peace for now." She looked around quickly before pecking his cheek; he smiled wide as she rubbed the lipstick off of his face. "Do you think we could sneak out?" Their drinks have long been empty and Oscar was leaning against the wall for a few minutes now. "I think Zak might give away your seat." She giggled 

"I think we can get away with it." He whispered, wrapping his arm around her waist, guiding her towards the door. They practically hugged the wall trying to avoid human contact. She had to hold him up  as they walked down the stairs towards the car. She held her hand out for the car key, not letting him drive in such a condition and ever the gentlemen, he still opened the door for her. The drive home was long, Oscar definitely fell asleep a few time, but the roads were rather deserted at this late hour, his hand remained firm on her thigh as she continued to hold the wheel. "We are almost home, ten more minutes." She whispered, his only response was a quiet hum. Oscar could stay awake now, but he didn't have the energy for much more; Completely lethargic, he stumbled out of the car and in through the front door. 

"Come on." She said, dragging him up the stairs towards their shared bedroom; It was still very much a mess from the morning, Oscar was in a complete rush after waking up for the third time, she helped him get ready, not that it would have taken him very long on his own. He took a brief moment to stare, the dress was beautiful, and it fit her so well, Oscar would say it made her look perfect, more than usual. But that was all he could think as she pushed him out the door. It was not often that they were late, a skill Oscar must have perfected in his early years. She looked at him with an almost smug look, handing him the car keys. "I know I drive for a living, but surely you drive fine." His statement fell upon deaf ears. Oscar did not expect his words to change her decision, so he proceeded to the driver's side, with a quiet whine. 

Even now, quiet huffs left his mouth, making a poor attempt to walk up the stairs. She knew he was tired, yet she couldn't help the feeling of desire. Seeing Oscar in a suit really did get her going, even just the sight of him could do the same, but tonight in particular, she just couldn't stop the arousal from coursing through her body. Oscar reached the bathroom rather swiftly and slowly began to remove his clothes, struggling with the buttons. "Please, Love, I need help." She giggled, walking closer, seeing the dishevelled man pouting. Selfishly, she undid each button as slow as possible, staring at him with a sultry look. Oscar noticed, but chose not to say anything. If he was honest, Oscar would say he preferred morning sex, a sure way to wake him up, and have a good start to the day. He also understood that waiting wouldn't be wise.  

She turned slowly, as Oscar motioned for her to, wanting to help unzip her dress. He did so as fast as possible with the little energy he had. He was shocked at the sight before him; the matching set before him framed her perfectly. He felt a rush of blood flow through his body, warming him up slowly, with a lightly blush painting his skin. She turned back around slowly, meeting his lust filled gaze. Already feeling fuzzy, Oscar grabbed her hips softly to pull her closer, desperate for close contact. He didn't say a word as she began to kiss his neck slowly as he wanted her to feel good, blissful even. Yet she was nervous, curious as to how this would work; Oscar didn't have the energy to fuck her the way she desired, the way she deserved, but that wouldn't stop him. 

His hand found a home on the small of her back as he guided her back towards the bed. "As much as I want to, I can't fuck you tonight." Oscar whispered, laying down on his side of the bed with a loud sigh. She pouted at his remark as he smirked, closing his eyes. "Come here." There was a moment of silenced accompanied by hesitation, it took a while for her to register that she actually had to move towards him. He smiled up at her as she rested on the bed beside him,  he was giddy despite the late hour, perhaps becoming slightly delirious. Oscar head the quiet pads of her feet against the floor and smiled, he got truly excited when he felt the bed dip slightly. "Be good...And straddle me." She was originally sat there peacefully, knees together, waiting for an instruction, so she was keen when she heard Oscar's voice. 

With her knees around Oscar's hip, she smiled, endorphins running through her body. "No, no, Baby, I need one of your legs to be between mine." His voice had dropped an octave and likely some volume, not quite a whisper. She was confused to begin with, expecting to ride him. "Straddle my thigh, that's it." She listened carefully to every word, focusing on every syllable. She pushed her cunt against his thick thigh, enjoying the pressure. Oscar's hands quickly, made way to her hips, grasping lightly. "Now, I need you to slowly rock your hips for me." She did so in awe, moving slowly, feeling pressure build up in her lower abdomen. Rocking back and forth was easy, getting the right pressure and speed was difficult; She placed a hand on his chest, needing support.  "That's it, Good girl." Oscar's grip harshened, he pushed and pulled on her hips, helping her grind faster and harder, heightening her pleasure. "Please, Oscar, need you." Her mind was too full, all full of Oscar and how he feels. 

His thigh was covered in her, soaked in her wetness. Her whines quickly became moans as he edged her on, sucking lightly at her neck. Oscar could feel her cunt twitching with every movement. "So good for me, cum, cum for me Love." Her eyes were closed as her head dropped back, Oscar smiled at her legs shaking, struggling to keep her body up right. She collapsed on his chest, seeing stars while giving raged breaths. Oscar's hands began to draw shapes onto her skin as he hugged her close, pulling the blanket over their bodies he spoke, "I'm wide awake now" 

#oscar piastri x reader smut #oscar piastri 81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastry #oscar pistachio #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

[bigfatbimbo]

Hello! I absolutely love your Vox content and he's currently my character fixation, I wonder if you could possibly write a Drabble or oneshot(whichever you prefer!) with Reader taking care of a wasted TV man? Thanks!

a/n — YES ABSOLUTELY!! I was actually just thinking about this, to be honest.

Also reader and him aren’t technically dating in this because I love pining and have commitment issues.

Vox clung to your neck and leaned his full body weight on you as you struggled to get him through the door.

“Your ssso sstrong,” he remarked, words slurred. He poked your face with his finger and giggled dumbly.

“Fuck, ah, doesn’t really feel like it,” you grunted. It was getting harder and harder to drag the wasted man everywhere.

Luckily, however, you had just made it to your apartment. The plan was to let him sleep in your bed and you would take the couch. It felt like the least you could do.

From the looks of it, or rather how he looked when you found him, he had a rough day. He was sitting hunched over on a bar stool, suit jacket off and bow tie undone. 

By the time you’d noticed him, he was already completely drunk. He didn’t give you much to work with either when you asked why he looked so miserable.

He simply mumbled and stammered about how ‘I do all the work’ ‘never get a break’ ‘just bitching to me about everything.’ It was clear that an all-too-big amount of stress had led him to the barstool. 

So, with all your strength you had helped him walk, practically carried, more like, him back to your loft.

“Mm, your sso pre—ee—tty,” Vox slurred, once again falling into a fit of giggles. If his words weren’t already incoherent, the added buffering didn’t help.

“Uh-huh,” you say, leading him over to the couch where you sat him down.

“My feet hhurt,” Vox whines, eyes dropping slightly when he meets the soft cushions.

It was strange to see him like this. He was usually so composed and put together, and now it seemed he would say anything that came to mind.

“Well, Vox, let’s take your shoes off, then.” You kneel down to untie his shoes and he continues incoherently babbling about whatever thought popped up.

Lots of which, might I add, were thoughts about how pretty and nice you were.

You knew he was going to hate himself the next morning for letting anyone see him like this. So in your mind, you already came up with reassuring words to make him less embarrassed.

‘Oh you were already almost passed out so you didn’t even say anything’ or something along those lines would probably ease his mind.

“Are we go—oo—gonna kiss?” Vox asked dreamily.

“You’re drunk,” you answer quickly. He didn’t know what he was saying.

“Oh,” he frowned, “but we sshould.”

You helped him get up from the couch by hoisting him up by his sides. Unfortunately, Vox had already hooked his arms around your neck and began leaning fully on you, making you wobble slightly.

His giggles started up again as he obnoxiously started poking your face and pulling your hair.

“God, you really are completely wasted, aren’t you?” You remark, mostly to yourself.

His drunken laughter subsided, “‘m sorry. ‘m sorry that ‘m so drunk.”

He sounded just plain sad, like you had unplugged the drain in the bathtub, letting all of his playfulness out.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You had a long day,” you rub his back comfortingly. He sighs in your arms. 

Sweetie, you think, where did that come from? You weren’t sure. It just felt like the right thing to say. 

“mmh, your nice,” his incoherent giggling was back, “ssso nice to m—mh—me.”

Once again, you half carried him into the bedroom and lied him down on the mattress. You unbuttoned his shirt about a third down in an attempt to make sleep more comfortable for him. 

You placed the covers over him and started to leave. You were thinking about leaving some advil on the table for the morning when you heard Vox whine from behind you.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered, words still slurred. “Stay, please.” His hand had a weak grip on your own, trying to pull you closer to him.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

But Vox didn’t say anything else, just pleaded with his eyes for you too stay at least until he fell asleep.

You obliged. You sat down in the space next to him and rubbed his back. He sighed contently and nuzzled up against your leg, as you were still sitting up.

After that it didn’t take long for him to doze off, not before muttering a small ‘thank you.’ 

a/n — I think I’m gonna do a Velvette fic after this. Not entirely sure.

Also, disclaimer, the only reason you go back to your apartment and not his is because i’m not entirely sure where the Vees live.

So, yea, please don’t take your drunk situationship back to your apartment that’s kinda weird.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox