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reiderwriter · 9 months ago

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Hello!I hope you are having a great day!I love LOVE your writing and I would like to request a fanfiction where the reader is Hotch's daughter who works at the bau and is in a secret relationship with spencer without her dad knowing.Spencer wants to tell the team but she is scared about how they'll react so they fight but during a case she gets kidnapped and the feelings are high,so spencer accidentally reveals the relationship.I would love if it ended in smut (possibly dom!spencer who is angry at her for being so reckless and risking her life like that) and maybe a lot of angst??Hotch could potentially be fuming but when they get her back he decides that he will let them be??I would like my emoji to be 🌼!Thank you in advance and if you write this I would absolutely LOVE to read it!🤍🤍

A/N: I love writing for a Hotchner Reader because the Hotch/Spencer parallels are so 😙👌 This was so fun to write!

Warnings: Smut/ Angst with a happy ending, Semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, case details, kidnapping, abuse, strangulation, mentions of child death/ allusions towards pedophilia etc, Hotch is a somewhat shitty/overprotective dad/boss.

Masterlist!

Falling back into a hotel bed that wasn't yours, you wrapped your legs around Spencer Reid as he furiously worked open the buttons of your shirt, his lips locked with yours in a furious exchange.

“Spencer, Spencer, we can't-” You moaned as his lips fell down to your ear, a small tap to your thigh signalling that he wanted tour legs spread for him. Despite your vocal protests, you complied.

“Need to feel you,” he groaned, nipping and sucking his way down your chest as his big hands began pushing your skirt up and your panties down.

“Spencer, someone will hear.”

“I don't care who hears,” he whispered, finally ridding you of the last piece of material covering your wet sex. “I just want to make you feel good.”

His lips fell to your cunt, falling on your cunt as he began his ministrations. You loved this, the feeling of him near, his lips on you, his tongue teasing out whimper, then moan, then a scream of his name as you came undone on his lips. But that wasn't a chance you could take today.

“He's in the next room, Spencer. Fuck, he's going to hear us.”

You wouldn't push him off, enjoying too much the feeling of your building pleasure, so appealing to your boyfriend to do the right thing was your last resort as your hips bucked into his face, chasing your orgasm.

He didn't stop, but held your hips down, thrusting his tongue in and out of you as his fingers came up to tease your clit.

“Spencer, fuck-” you slapped a hand over your mouth as you shuddered below him, finally reaching your climax.

Your hands fell limp as he worked you through the end of your orgasm before rising up to lay beside you on the bed.

“I wish you wouldn't push it, Spencer. You're a dead man if he catches us like this.”

“Hotch won't kill me just because I'm dating his daughter. I don't understand why you don't want to tell people.”

You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. It was a conversation you'd been back and forward on a lot in the past six months.

Dating a coworker was tricky, doubly so when your coworker’s boss - and your boss - was your overprotective father. Things only became more complicated when you factored in a ten year age gap and the fact that your father refused to view you as an adult, even when you were a fully qualified member of his own team.

You'd had to fight for acceptance into the FBI and go above him to get the job on his team, a decision that he still berated you for to this day. But you'd had enough of him shielding you from reality, and it was a step you needed to take.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid, though, that was just pure bad luck.

You weren't sure how it had taken you until joining the team to meet the man, but you sure were glad he hadn't been introduced earlier. You'd joined the team at 24, having been in grad school until your FBI Academy application was approved, and somehow in the 10 years before that Spencer had worked under your father, you'd never crossed paths.

Of course, you knew who he was before that from context and conversations with your father, and of course, he figured out who you were quickly based on the many arguments you'd had in Hotch’s office. But that hadn't stopped you from repeatedly falling into his bed month after month, and then falling in love with him.

Your relationship was more than the sex, but it was also a lot of sex. From the stories you'd heard, and from the look of him, you'd assumed that Spencer was a delicate little flower, an innocent in the bedroom as much as any 34 year old man could be.

And then you'd both been offered spiked drinks at a holiday party courtesy of Penelope Garcia, and he'd proved you deliriously wrong. He'd been hooked from then on, and after waking up awkwardly in his bed the next morning to two cups of coffee and a spread of breakfast pastries he'd gone out to specifically pick up for you, you'd been hooked on him as well.

The only problem was Hotch.

You certainly weren't winning any daughter of the year awards already with the stunt you pulled to get on the BAU, but you didn't want to be completely and totally disowned just yet.

“Hotch won't kill you for dating his daughter, you're right,” you mumbled back to Spencer rolling yourself back on top of him and pinning his arms down so his fingers couldn't tease you any further.

“Thank you, now if you trust me, I've ran like four different scenarios in my head so-”

“He'd definitely fire us both, though. And that's worse than death.”

“Y/N….”

“Tell me I'm wrong, please. Back up your findings with empirical evidence. He doesn't want me on the team, Spencer. He doesn't even want me in the FBI. I think he'd be happy enough to ship me out of the country, too, if that helped.”

Spencer sighed and tugged your hair behind your ear as he gestured for you to sit up.

“I know it's scary. But I love you. I don't care about the consequences because I'll still love you before and after telling him.”

“And during?”

“I might freak out a bit, but deep down, the love will be there still.”

You hit him with a pillow and climbed off the bed.

“Okay, get out now. I'll think about it but you really can't stay here tonight.” He nodded, grabbing his things and pulling his clothes back into place.

“So, like we're totally done for tonight? Nothing else.”

“Spencer! Out!” You whisper-shouted the words and watched him turn your door handle as slowly as possible before he waved his goodbye and left your room.

12 hours later, you were once again getting frustrated with Spencer Reid. And Aaron Hotchner. They may soon be enemies, but goddamn they were perfect for each other in some ways.

“Hotch, you can't just give me nothing to do. Send me to the morgue with Rossi, or let me interview family members with Tara. I'm a member of this team, too, so let me do my job.”

“You'll do well to remember that I'm your boss, Y/N.”

“You're acting more like my dad right now. A boss would utilize his team members.”

You'd been stuck in this stale mate since the morning, and Reid hadn't helped at all. When giving out assignments that morning, you'd not been notably left out of crime scene investigation, suspect interrogation, and anything helpful. Reid usually asked for your assistance at times like these, but he was finally putting his money where his mouth was and keeping distance from you in the office.

So far, you'd ran coffees back and forth between the kitchen and work room and had been communicating back and forth with JJ and Derek in the field and Garcia back at Quantico.

You'd been, for lack of better comparison, relegated to receptionist.

“At least let me work on the geographical profile with Reid-”

“Absolutely not.”

You stiffened at the reaction, wondering just exactly why he would react so strongly. Spencer had snuck in a few secret kisses here and there this morning, though you'd been sure that you'd had no witnesses.

“Why not?”

“I don't want you to distract him.”

Bile settled in the back of your throat as you tried your best to bite your tongue and keep the bitter words in.

“You know, sometimes, Dad, it feels like you love everyone on this team more than you love me.”

He locked eyes with you quickly, but he glance was dismissive and stern, almost as if he was asking you ‘seriously.’

You turned on your heels and began to walk out before he called out from behind you again.

“Y/N,” you stopped despite yourself.

“Leave the gun and badge on the desk. We'll discuss this after the case is closed.”

You almost laughed. You almost blurted out your relationship with Spencer just to spite him. You followed his order and took yourself out of the office for some fresh air, finally giving him what he wanted.

An hour of aimlessly wandering down the street, and you turned into a run-down park. 16 missed calls from Spencer and other members of the team, who'd no doubt watched you turn in your badge.

Garcia had even called a few times, and you felt guilty for not forwarding her calls somewhere else, knowing she'd probably have key case information for someone.

But you just couldn't handle it anymore, so you switched it off, pushed it back into your pocket, and kept walking.

It was two more blocks before the man following you pushed a soaked rag over your mouth and nose and pushed your unconscious body into the back of a waiting van.

×××××

Two hours of near constant complaining to Hotch had gotten Spencer nowhere in his demands to know just where you went.

He'd called you 36 times since Hotch had told him you'd left, and he hadn't stopped freaking out since.

“But where did she go?”

“I sent her back to the motel.”

“All of our cars, bar the one JJ and Morgan took to the crime scene, are outside and accounted for. The motel is a 34-minute drive away. It'll take her 5 hours on foot through our unsubs hunting grounds, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she matches the victim profile we just gave. Where is she?”

A muscle in Hotch's jaw twitched, but neither of them moved, eyes locked in battle to see who would back down first.

A call from Penelope ended whatever disaster was storming between them.

“Hotch hey, I can't get in contact with mini-Hotch, so here I am. Morgan called earlier from the crime scene. From the way they're posed, he said they could be possible stand-ins for a lost child a daughter or a sister, so I cross checked the ownership of the vehicles that run with the tires we found prints of at the scene, and I got a name. Like one.”

“Great work, Penelope, send it over.”

Hotch dropped the call and looked back up at Spencer, readying himself to give orders and push the issue.

Again, their standoff was interrupted.

“Hotch,” JJ rushed in, carrying a radio dispatcher, face white, and filled with worry. “You need to hear this.”

“Witness reported an abduction on East and 7th, patrol surveyed the scene and found a cellphone. Identifying information suggests it belongs to a Y/N Hotchner. We're bringing it into the stat-”

Hotch stood so fast his chair almost crashed to the floor. He stood so fast that he barely had time to dodge the lunge Spencer took in his direction, fist pulled back. It would connect, given the chance he knew it would. He'd been the one to teach Spencer to throw a punch in the first place.

Morgan insinuated himself between the two men before, and blood could be shed, quickly pulling Spencer back as Rossi, too, rushed into the room to diffuse the situation.

“One hour. I've been asking you for one hour where she went, and you wouldn't answer me. You made her leave her gun behind.”

It wasn't exactly a shout, but there was something broken in his voice, as of his mouth had filled with blood and he could only spit hate at a man who'd been a mentor to him until seconds before.

“If she's hurt- fuck, if even a hair on her head is out of place, I'll-”

“What, Spencer? What will you do? She's my daughter. What could you do that-”

“She's my girlfriend! She's my girlfriend, she's the love of my life. God, I want to marry her, I have the ring, I have the proposal planned, all that was left was telling you and then asking her, but you've been such a dick to her about this job, and about cases, and God knows what else, that she doesn't want to say anything to you, and now you've driven her away and she's fucking gone. And she could be hurt or in danger or d-de…”

He crumpled to the floor, Morgan still holding him as his legs gave way beneath him.

Nobody moved for what felt like hours, still in their grief, shock, some just nervous to see what would happen next.

“You've been in this situation before, Hotch. So have I. It's …. It hasn't ended well for us before.”

The words were so final, so defeated that they sucked the air out of the room.

“Morgan,” Hotch started quietly, eyes still locked with Reid's, still staring down the reflection of his own despair.

“Get Garcia back on the line, I want confirmation that the vehicle that picked Y/N up is the same one that our unsub has been using to set up crime scenes. See if she can lift a name and an address. Rossi, if he's skilled enough to pick up an FBI Agent unaware, we need a SWAT team, get one on standby.”

Slowly growing in volume, he continued, as the room started moving at his signal.

“JJ, Tara, take over where Reid left off with the geographical profile. Look at Y/N's last known location and how far a car could've gotten in the last 24 minutes.”

He paused again, staring Reid down.

“Reid, you're with me.”

xxxxx

It took you a few seconds to gain a sense of your surroundings when you came to. Partially because of the drug induced migraine splitting your head, and partially because of the mess of ribbons and stuffed toys you'd woken up in.

A change of clothes, and hands tied to what seemed to be a children's bed and you felt so grossly vulnerable your body shook with a few harsh sobs before you regained your composure and remembered your training.

The knots on the rope holding your hands were tight. There wasn't much room to move with them pinned above your head, but you recognised them as naval knots. Your unsub had experience at sea, recreational or professional you'd yet to determine.

Looking around again, you looked for entries and exits, wanting to know how the unsub would come in again and how you could get out.

There were no windows, but a set of stairs leading up towards a solid door told you that you'd been locked inside a basement. A basement decorated similarly to a child's bedroom.

Dimly lit by a mass of fairy lights, the room seemed covered head to toe in teddy bears, dolls, and children's books, a sturdy handmade doll’s house standing in the corner of the room.

Faintly, you heard the creaking of floorboards above you before the handle of the basement door rattled and more light poured in.

“I bought you breakfast, cupcake.”

There was no time to feign unconsciousness again as your captor finally came into view.

He was older than middle-aged, slightly wider around the midsection than you assumed he'd been in his youth. His hair was closely cropped and laid neatly, leading you to suspect he was former military.

“Oh, good, you're awake. What do you want to do today, cupcake? Daddy has some time off now, I can play with you all you want.”

You moved slowly, pushing yourself up to a seated position so you could bend your arms a bit. But you didn't look away, needing to keep him in your line of sight the entire time.

“Where am I?” You asked slowly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Wow, you must've had a deep sleep cupcake. You're in your bedroom, silly!”

The man's sprightly tone was disconcerting, and you could see a muscle in his forehead twitch slightly as you spoke.

“O-of course. My mistake. Maybe I'm just still tired.”

He laid the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to you. You tried your best not to shy from his touch as he stroked your hair, but every muscle in your body tensed and pulled from him reflexively.

A quick glance to the tray and you saw the food he'd brought you was a small cup of pills and a glass of water to rinse them down with.

If he noticed your flinch, he said nothing, grabbing a hairbrush from the nightstand and beginning to comb through your hair slowly and deliberately, taking care like one would a daughter.

“Daddy,” you took a chance, recalling the name he'd given himself earlier. “Can we play outside today? I want to go to the park.”

He stopped moving, and you held your breath as his smile dropped.

“No, sweetie. You know we don't go to parks.”

“Why not? I really want to play there, Daddy, please!”

In seconds, his hands wrapped around your throat as he pushed you back down into the bed, holding you there with his tight, suffocating grip.

“Shut the fuck up you little slut. I said we don't go to parks, you listen. I am your father, you are not being taken by one of those sick freaks again.”

He released you as quick as he grabbed you and stood up, pacing as he attempted to regain composure.

“You can draw or we can have a tea party but you know we can't go out. You know that cupcake, I've told you so many times.”

He grabbed at his hair, pulling it from its carefully styled arrangement into a mess, his fingers leaving red marks against his white skin as he pushed and pulled his head.

He breathed deeply, and you sat up, trying to regain your composure as you watched him lose his.

“What was her name?” You whispered, half hoping he would hear you, half praying that he'd ignore you for the sake of his fantasy.

“W-What?”

“Your daughter. What was her name?”

He focused on you again, but his hands - hands that you knew could and would choke the life out of you if you did something wrong again - his hands were shaking.

You heard the floorboards creaking upstairs and decided to push your questioning, hoping it meant what you thought it did.

“Why are you saying it like that, ‘was?’ Is. Her name is, your name is Laura, and you're my little cupcake.”

“What happened to her?” You filled your voice with as much sympathy and understanding as you could muster, one eye on the basement door that was being slowly pushed open. One look at Morgan at the top of the stairs had your heart rate slowing to a calmer speed. You locked eyes with him for a second, halting him, and he nodded, waiting for your signal.

“You, you're my cupcake, you look just like… She should look just like you.”

The man sat on the bed again, stroking a hair out of your eye as his filled with tears.

“Fifteen years. I looked for her for fifteen years, you know. If I hadn't taken her to that park-”

“That must have been hard.”

He nodded as he broke down in silent sobs.

“They said… they said she probably died a day or two after we lost her. When they found her, she was…” he rested his head on your shoulder, let him cling to you as he mourned his daughter.

“We couldn't identify her, but she had that teddy with her. The teddy with the cupcake in its hands. She never went anywhere without it. So we…we knew.

You looked at Morgan as he slowly made his descent into the room, closely followed by JJ.

The man looked up into your eyes again, wiping the tears from his face.

“She was only 8.” He looked defeated, and your heart broke for him, even as you wished to get as far away from him as you could physically muster.

Morgan pulled him up and away from you as he secured the man with handcuffs, but his eyes remained locked on you.

JJ untied you and guided you out, but you felt his gaze bite into you ever after you'd left the basement.

As soon as you were above ground, you let your body divest itself of adrenaline, your legs buckling as JJ tried to catch you. Another set of arms was quicker, though, and you didn't even register Spencer's arrival before burying your head in his chest and letting your sobs escape you.

He guided you to your feet and walked you out to the ambulance, his arms protectively wrapped around you, his lips peppering kisses along your hairline and forehead, anywhere he could reach. In moments, you were bundled into the ambulance, and three gentle voices were trying to calm you, to pry you away from your comfort doll.

You wondered if you'd die like the unsubs daughter had, if they'd find you clinging to Spencer the way she had to her teddy bear.

“Y/N,” your father's deep voice was clear and smooth, the only thing that was cutting through the wretched moment of pain you were enduring.

You remembered yourself again, relinquishing your grip on Spencer and wiping the tears from your face as you finally looked towards Aaron Hotchner.

The paramedics took their chance and began checking your vitals, working around you in a hurry.

“Dad, I'm sorry, I was walking and didn't notice that he was behind me, I should've been more careful-”

“Y/N, it’s okay. You're okay now.”

You nodded as he came closer. You ignored the tears in his eyes, trying not to break down again. It had been an age since you'd last witnessed him cry, at another crime scene with another family member and another unsub. You couldn't think about how close you'd come to making him relive his worst nightmare.

Spencer's hand was still firm in yours, and you held it like a lifeline, though you were sure your nails had to be cutting him by now. It took another moment to register that he was holding onto you just as hard, that he was unmoving, still where he was usually a series of compulsive moments, tapping, hand wringing, fists clenching and releasing.

You glanced between the men, who had now become quiet as they surveyed you, and noticed the tension. Before you could say anything, though, the paramedics took over.

“We're going to get you to the hospital now, Agent, one coworker can accompany you in the vehicle, preferably one with knowledge of your medical history.”

Both men immediately moved forward again, as if ready to jump into the van, before turning again to each other.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself just as the buzzing in your head from the migraine grew louder.

“Y/N, it's your choice. Who do you want to come?” Spencer said gently, his body still stiff with worry.

“I'm her father. This isn't a question of who she likes better.”

“I have her medical records memorized, and I have more knowledge about the drugs the unsub gave her, but Y/N can choose for herself because she is a grown woman.”

You sighed and dropped the man's hand as the medics ushered you into the van fully, but the men were fully absorbed in their fight for dominance that they barely registered it.

“JJ. JJ is coming with me,” You could see both of them turn back to you to argue, but you continued before they could. “Because I am a grown adult who knows her own medical history, and I don't need my father and my… coworker having territory wars over my wellbeing.”

And possibly because she'd be the least awkward option to answer the questions about sexual activity and possibility of pregnancy around, but you really did not need to vocalize that.

“Right now, I'm just a victim you've saved. Go and do your jobs and meet me at the hospital later because I am not doing overtime completing paperwork while on suspension.”

JJ climbed up into the ambulance and the doors shut, letting you finally get a few moments peace as it began slowly making its way to whatever hospital was closest.

“He knows, right?” You asked, covering your eyes with your hands as you braved for the answer.

“Hotch? You could say that he figured it out.”

“That bad?”

“Spencer threw a punch at him. He tried to at least.”

“What?!” Your body shot up, but the paramedic gently forced you back into a laid position, giving you a warning look to stay put as she checked your blood pressure.

“Don't be too hard on him, Y/N. He thought he was going to lose you. They both did. I don't think either of them would survive it happening again.”

The guilt hit you right in the chest as you nodded and dropped the conversation.

“Maybe I should've let Spencer come with me.”

“Why?” JJ asked, not offended bit curious.

“Because I'm not entirely sure my father won't throw that punch back at him now he knows I'm okay. It's hard being in a relationship if one of you is dead.”

The older woman chuckled slightly, and you settled back down, letting the car movements rock you into sleep.

xxxxx

A few hours later and some quietly bickering voices pulled you from the rest you'd so sorely needed. Without even opening your eyes, you knew they'd both subtly scrambled to your bed to make sure you were comfortable.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, wiping your eyes carefully as you tried to sit up, arms still aching from being tied up.

“Oh shit-” you exclaimed after seeing your boyfriends freshly split lip.

“Dad, what the fuck?”

“Y/N, it's fine. It doesn't hurt.”

“Aaron Hotchner, do you have nothing to say for yourself?” You tried to put all of tour anger into the words as you said them, bit he looked at you again with his straight face, and you crumpled under the pressure.

“I won't…I'm not going to object. I just ask you to keep your private life separate from your work.”

“And you're going to punch my boyfriend while I'm unconscious, so I can't defend him.”

“I'm still your father, and he deserved it.”

You looked back over to Spencer, who was quite notably not meeting your eyes.

“Do I want to know?”

“I'm leaving now. Jack will be here soon. He wants to check on you now that school is over. We told him you were hurt trying to save a sick man.”

“Thank you, dad.”

He nodded at you and left you alone in your hospital room with Spencer.

“Why did you deserve it?” You whisper shouted the moment you assumed he was out of earshot.

“The doctor came in and asked about some old bruises on your upper thighs. And ass. And chest. I had to admit they weren't sustained during the kidnapping, and Hotch wasn't pleased.”

You huffed out a sound halfway between incredulous and a strangled moan of shame as you curcled yourself up into a ball and tried your best to die.

“Great. Wonderful.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he thought it was signs of domestic violence and not just rough...sex.”

“Yes, Spencer, that makes me feel entirely more comfortable with the situation.”

Registering the sarcasm in your voice, he quieted down again, settling into the chair by your bedside and grabbing your hand.

You sat silently together for a few minutes before either of you said anything.

“I'm sorry. I know you didn't want him to find out.”

“Spencer, you don't have to apologise. All things considered, this is possibly the best way he could've found out.”

“My busted lip suggests otherwise, I think.”

“And a whole lot more would've been busted if he caught us any other time. Besides, I already lost my job, so there's not much else at stake anymore.”

The words stung you as you said them, but you did still feel the weight of your dismissal in your chest, spreading miserably through your bones.

“Does your head still hurt?”

“Not really, why?”

“You're not as perceptive as you usually are.”

You shot him a confused look as he smiled softly down at you, offering a nod towards the small coffee table under the window of your hospital room.

There on your table sat your creds and your gun. The silent acknowledgement you'd been waiting for from your father.

Spencer sat by you as you did your best to hold off the tears. He let you pretend there was something in your eye, let you wonder if your eyes had become watery because of dust from the basement. He quietly held your hand as you grinned and grinned until you pulled him in for a kiss and held him close to you.

His lips were soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you even as he tried to hold himself up and off you so he didn't hurt you.

“You know,” you said, punctuating each word with another sweet kiss. “This means- that- you're- stuck- with- me.”

He laughed into your final kiss, finally pulling back for more air, studying your face as if he were trying to memorize it.

“That was never the issue.”

“Oh really, and what was?”

He kissed your again, slow and deep this time, taking his time working his hands down from your hair to your neck to cup your face so you were opened up to him, letting his lips and tongue explore everything he wanted to. He pulled away eventually and instinctively your lips tried to chase his, even as he pulled out of reach.

“Making sure you stayed by my side.”

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yeyinde · 3 months ago

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ghoapxreader in the baby trapping series IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️

i think i've exhausted the whole "tampering with contraceptives" thing to death by now so i would probably do something different with them. like a surrogate situation or something, but awful lmao

maybe down on her luck reader is in desperate need of cash, and these two men swoop in to save you from this horrible pit you've fallen into.

you need money. they need a baby.

simple, right?

except the simplicity falls apart when they blatantly tell you they want a natural insemination—as in, a threesome.

multiple, the pretty Scot tells you. after all, it has tae take, hen.

(and this is the part where you should have run. the moment when you'd be screaming at the television at the hapless protagonist as they walk mindlessly into danger despite the warning signs hanging overhead. but like the oblivious hero, you're too blinded by pretty, gleaming white to realise that the thing you're marveling over is a maw. cracked open wide and full of jagged, deadly teeth rearing up to sink inside of you.

but the problem with making shady deals when you're desperate is that no one really bothers to read the fine print, do they? and by the time you see past their crooked charm, you're waving your child off as they skip up the stairs to school, standing like a prisoner between them as they lean down and ask if you're ready for another—)

but that comes later.

what comes first is message on Craiglist.

one that you spend less time considering it than you should have. desperation, you find, clouds your judgement. blots out common sense. makes you susceptible to manipulation. and oh, how susceptible you are. despite priding yourself on your common sense and keen self-awareness, the overarching issues hanging over your head like an idling guillotine seem to erase that instructive need for self-preservation.

so, when the message itself pops up, you're already primed for making bad choices. ones out of malformed desperation. the barrage of texts from your landlord demanding rent, the ones sent to your family in moments of dire need asking for fruitless aid that will never come in time if the read receipts mean anything at all. the package from HR apologising for the inconvenience, but this was, regrettably, the only feasible option for the company at present, and too bad you didn't sign up for that union, huh? student loans. credit cards.

the measureable calamity of your life manifests itself in the shape of a black cloud hanging onto your aching shoulder, wrapping long, inkstained fingers around your jugular as it hisses the insurmountable figure needed to climb out of this pit in your ear.

sleepless, of course, hasn't helped.

and in that bog you can't swim through, their offer sounds far more appealing than it should.

let's meet up somewhere, comes the next message at half past three in the morning as you talk yourself in (and out) of this mess. talk about things more.

what else are you supposed to do?

job hunting sites mock you with their generic emails, thanking you for applying, and saying they'll reach out within a few business days for an interview if you're a good fit. ones sent off weeks ago. hundreds of them to no avail. it's almost like you're being plagued. blacklisted from the city.

even the fast food chain down the street refused your application when you sent it in, and the help wanted sign has been taped on the drive-thru window since you were sixteen.

it all pushes you closer and closer to making stupid choices, like replying with a simple (nervous, shaky, bile-tinged) sure to the message they sent. i'm down—

(—and drowning)

but you're smart enough to know better, so you act like it, too.

ping your location to your friends. tell them where you're going. clutch your keys so tightly in your fist that your knuckles just out through thin skin. layers upon layers of safety measures glimpsed through the various articles about how to stay alive.

but all the tremulous air is siphoned from your lungs when you see them for the first time.

something magnetic thrums through your chest. copper sutures running lines from their skin to yours until touching just seems like the most natural thing in the world. and you suppose it is when the pretty Scot folds you into a tight hug, cinching you close to his chest as if he's known you his whole life instead of just several seconds.

he's a thing of beauty. chiselled from marble, almost; David made human when he runs his tanned hand through the tumble of uneven hair along his crown. eyes the same varicoloured palette of a boscage in autumn framed in the setting sun's golden halo.

there's a distinct ruggedness about his beauty, too. one that reminds of you a lion's mane. the sleek fur of a stallion. pretty in a wild way. and as his eyes list towards you again and again, like he can't quite manage his fill of staring at you, taking you in, you think about that wildness again. the hunger in his eyes so similiar to the desperation of a predator fattening up for the encroaching chill of winter. it makes you shiver, but you can't look away

(because you know what's waiting for you when you do)

and when you finally pluck up the courage to glance at the shape devouring the light with his intimidating bulk, you come to quick realisation that if Johnny is the personification of an autumn evening, then the man standing next to him is the tried and true testament that bad things happen after dark.

he's a strange figure, one who veers almost comically into the uncanny valley with his hood pulled over the plain, black ballcap hanging low over his brow. a balaclava covering every inch of his face with the exception of a small, ovaled hole for his eyes. remnants of something ashy smear into the corners, running up the crooked bend of his nose.

he doesn't look like a real man—not with those liquid, haunting eyes—but at the same time, there's something preternaturally human about him. a stereotypical sense of masculinity—just one warped around the edges.

with his worn jeans pulled tight over thick, bulging thighs, and the silver zipper of his hoodie resting at the base of his throat, you could easily think he was just another man in the crowd, but it's off. a glitch. a skip.

like mistaking a coat rack for a man in the dead of night.

eerie.

dangerous.

if the man beside him is playfully carnivorous, a basking lion rolling onto his belly at the zoo, separated by thick glass, then he (Simon, Johnny supplies readily when the silence lingers; Simon Riley), Simon, is what it feels like to be followed home at night.

but—

there's something about fear and desire that are almost inseparable when broken down into a physiological response.

and when he steps up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body soaking into the drying sweat on your back, you liken the way your heart climbs up your throat to same as it would seeing a dorsal fin cutting above the waves in open water.

desire, you think, and then catching the white-hot burn of the stare, you add, in a thin whisper: fear.

when they sit you down, and begin to spin a story about how they just want a baby—no strings attached—you stay seated in the chair even as an itch in the back of your head starts, nails scraping at your skull.

their reluctance toward traditional methods makes sense when they explain that with their lifestyle, it's impossible—or the Scottish man does; the other one with a marbled skin of thick, ugly scars on his hands just stares, pinning you down with the weight of his gaze—and this arrangement is the only way they'll get the baby they've been hoping for.

and even though the scratching in your head sounds suspiciously like why you and run, you eat the food they bought for you in the fancy restaurant where appetisers start at $30, and a glass of water is priced at $6. volcanic spring water, the waiter explains as he pours it from a marbled glass pitcher.

you haven't eaten a real meal that wasn't microwavable or cup noodles in weeks.

maybe that's why you find yourself thinking why not instead of no.

they're attractive men. it's not the worst situation you could have found yourself in, even if the idea of parenthood—however brief it's supposed to be—has bile clawing up the back of your throat, and the bones housing your trembling heart feeling laden, heavy like iron, and starts to cinch your chest shut each day, squeezing tighter, and tighter, and—

they drop off the first the installment to you the moment your doctor starts to talk about boerhaave syndrome, as if they know the doubts that plague your head when they leave your apartment and the silence starts to mock you.

and that leads you here.

guilt for their situation. desperation over your own. an overarching need to please. it's all a dangerous cocktail that douses over rationality until you're nodding along, accepting their words as gospel until sleeping with them—multiple times—doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

until it happens. until you have Johnny and Simon actively working to knock you up. a marathon of intense sex with the single-minded goal of putting their baby in you.

Johnny drooling all over you as he ruts between your thighs, mindlessly driving himself into a frenzy as he slurres out his desires in an incomprehensible mess of English and Gaelic and animalistic grunts. barely pulling out in time before Simon is pressing your knee down to the mattress, cooing mockingly at the mess his boy made of you. cruelly taking bets as he slides into your sore, aching cunt about who will take first. his or Johnny's? and who do you want, birdie? who's baby do you want first?

fingers always shoving inside to cap the overflow when they exhaust themselves in a liquid-limbed stupor, barely conscious as you tapped out some three, four rounds ago. unable to keep your eyes open any longer as they both came to the same conclusion that cumming inside of you at the same time was the quickest way to knock you up together. ain't he a romantic, birdie?

and it's probably for the best that you passed out before it happened, drooling on Simon's scarred shoulder as he gripped the cheeks of your ass, pulling you wide open as Johnny shuffled forward between his spread legs, eyes riveted to the spot where Simon's cock split you open. the ache you felt the next morning, coming to on a broad chest with fingers stuffed inside of you—shush, shush, just keeping you nice an' plugged, sweetheart—was almost unbearable.

you expected them to clear out after getting what they want, but they stay. tend to you carefully like you're made of fine china.

or—Johnny does. bundles you up in his arms before setting off towards the bath, finally letting you wash the sticky, flaking grime from your skin, some awful mixture of drying cum, spit, and sweat, groaning in your ear as he pulls you to his damp, hairy chest about how sweet you are for them. how they're going to take care of you.

Simon caters to other things. packs your bags as Johnny scrubs thick fingers over your shoulders, pausing to grasp a sore, tender breast in his palm, hefting the weight up as he feverishly mutters about how hot it'll be to watch you feed their baby. an' maybe you'll let him have a little taste, too—

and when you finally emerge from the bath, sorer between the thighs than you were when you woke up, another mess pooling in the gusset of the panties he pulled up your legs, Simon's waiting, eyes riveted to your belly. staring at it with so much hunger, a cold sweat breaks out along the nape of your neck.

in the grand scheme of things, the threesome is the easy part. the hard part comes when they turn the arrangement into a prison, locking the shackles around your wrists when the pregnancy test comes back positive a few weeks later.

they're only doing what's best for their baby, they say, when they move you out of your apartment and into theirs. the cut lease was the only way to do it, Johnny says, shrugging. why make you pay for something you aren't using anymore?

and maybe if your head was thickened with a fog, you'd have questioned the phrasing, but as it stands, pregnancy, even as early as this one, adles you. leaves you a syrupy mess of emotions that they take turns exploiting. aren't you so lonely all by yourself, hen? don' ye want a family?

aren't they good enough for you?

it's less subliminal messaging and more overt coersion. what are you going to do after this? where will you go with your lease cut? and when the funds run dry? what then?

gonna find another couple to knock you up? Simon hisses, mangled hands mauling your belly, pinching and squeezing the flesh as if he could feel the fragile box their happiness is housed inside. should jus' stay with us if that's the case, birdie.

but it's all so sweet, in its own way—

(—sweet like a parasite nesting inside of it's host.

but at least you'll never be lonely.)

they stand by the fact that they're looking out for you. that they care. that they can't do much else but idle and watch your body evolve into something new (an' magnificent, Johnny breathes, kissing this unfamiliar shape you call home) and it grates at them because they're not used to feeling so useless, so can't you just let them do this for you? take care of you in all the ways they see fit? like cutting your lease and giving you a better place to stay. handing in your resignation from that shitty nine to five that wore you down to the bone. culling out the annoyances in your life—the friends and family—who kick up needless fits over your wellbeing, and just stress you out more than you need to be.

they're not good enough for you, is what Simon says when you ask why he blocked them from your phone, Johnny hovering by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. barring the exits, you'll realise later. but what comes first is fear, is anger, is—

happiness. maybe. or some broken, fragile facsimile of it. a subpar humuliculus masquerading around as if it was realised flesh and bone.

"oh," you say, and think you should be touched by his care, his concern, and so you are. shape this emotion from the sludge that pools at the bottom of your chest, running fingers through the muck to find pieces of gold. and then: "thank you, Simon."

it's sweet. or it could have been if it didn't spiral out of your control when they systematically dismantle your entire life until all you're left with is loose sediment slipping through your fingers. the foundation itself soften clay they shape into the image they've been after with the whole time: you.

(or more specifically, a momma for their baby.)

and when they ask you, at the end of this thin, fraying tether, if you want to be with them—an equal, a mother—and be a mother again for them, there's nothing else you could say except yes.

nothing because they made it so.

#a more literal spin to “baby trapping” lmao #ghoap x reader #double p with brief hints of somno manipulation social isolation its implied that Ghoap ruin your life from bts too

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impish-baby · 3 months ago

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Ur monster drabbles got my brain churning....Yandere caregiver werewolf who after turning you into a werewolf, treats you like one of it’s pups! Bonus points if they DO already have pups that try to play with you and treat you like their real sibling! ^w^ your content is awesome btw!!

Double bonus points if freshly turned werewolves also have instincts more similar to a pup than a fully grown wolf...

Your sibling playfully nipping at you, at first just snapping at them because you're already so distressed and they aren't helping! Realizing that playing is actually fun, having one tiny moment of respite as you wrestle with them.. until your caregiver comes back with a horribly smug look, knowing they have something new to goad you with.

Perhaps... sibling that was once in the position you were in? Pleading, trying to appeal to the fact you were both once human, only for them to run off and snitch on you! Sorry, but they can't lose their baby sibling. They'll make it up to you though! They'll hunt you the tastiest things and will even try to get caregiver to let you visit town so you can pick out a toy! (Caregiver threatening to put one of those kid leash and harnesses on you if you don't behave and hold their hand nicely in the store..)

Having to deal with them both trying to smother you in their scents... pups need to smell like their pack, little one! Caregiver giving you their shirts to lounge in and sibling constantly draping their favorite blankie over you. Feeling so disgusted and angry when it starts to smell like home and comfort... when you start to want your "family's" scent

(Thank you, Anon!! ^^)

#famial yandere #forced age regression #platonic yandere #yandere age regression #yandere agere #platonic yandere x reader #forced agere #you've got mail! 📨#i love yan! siblings..

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greyskyflowers · 5 months ago

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Big fan of the idea that Niko and Crystal keep accidently walking in on a private moments between Charles and Edwin.

Something where they freeze up and stop breathing as soon as they notice, still in the doorway and incredibly thankful the door doesn't creak. They haven't been seen yet.

Charles is sitting on the coach, slouched a little, and Edwin on his lap. Crystal can't really see Edwin's face from this angle but it looks like they're talking, Charles occasionally leaning in to nip at his jaw or throat.

They're both stripped down a few layers, nothing indecent, just the clear desire of wanting to be closer to skin.

Charles has his thumbs under Edwin's shirt, just stroking the skin there. He says something and Edwin leans forward to kiss him, there's a lazy roll of his hips that has Edwin pulling back and hiding his face in Charles's shoulder.

There's no rush to their actions, it doesn't even seem like they're trying to get off as much as they're just enjoying each other.

It's... intimate and very distracting. They look really good together. To be completely honest, Crystal isn't entirely sure who to look at - the confident and so very careful way Charles is easing Edwin into it, sharp eyes watching for any hesitation or displeasure or the slow and sweet way Edwin is letting himself sink into it, trusting and oh dear god they need to focus. They absolutely can't be seen.

Edwin will freak out. He'll get flustered and embarrassed, work himself up into panic, and never let himself relax enough to be in a situation like this again. It took Charles and him a long time to even get to this point, over 30 years, and she refuses to be the reason why this never happens again.

Niko and her have backed up slowly and are almost back through the door when she glances up and freezes. Charles is watching them out of the very corner of his eye, a warning look on his face, and she tries to convey that she knows and they're working on it, okay? Keep him distracted.

She rolls her eyes a little at him. Protective asshole probably doesn't like anyone else seeing Edwin like this, not that she blames him. She's had fleeting thoughts before that Edwin could be very attractive, especially if he updated his style, but she never really thought of him as attractive. She sees the appeal now though, how good Edwin looks with someone who knows what to do with him.

The flush on Niko's cheeks seem to indicate she's feeling the same way.

Edwin says something and Charles easily turns all his attention back to him again, a pleased grin breaking out on his face and he looks absolutely smitten.

Even when she and Charles had their little thing, he never looked at her like that and honestly there's no way he would look at anyone except Edwin like that.

The door closes silently behind them and they both sigh, exhausted and relieved. They take off down the hallway as quickly and quietly as they can.

They'll come back later.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Been thinking about intimacy and relationship dynamics...

Also Charles is 100% someone who always starts smiling when he's kissing.

#dead boy detectives #payneland #charles rowland #edwin payne #i just think they're neat #crystal palace #niko sasaki #dbd #solving cases with greyskyflowers

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takaraphoenix · 8 days ago

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I saw someone refer to Steter as a comedy relief duo earlier and it just completely sent me, because that's just... so far from what Steter is, in canon?

As I'm currently rewatching the show, it has shot up into being my favorite ship on the show because of the gravitas it has.

It's a ship that highlights Stiles' fearlessness in such intriguing ways, in canon. From the boy who yelled at a feral Alpha in the school, to their first face to face meeting at the school, when Peter recognizes him, knows him, acknowledges him ("You must be Stiles", as though Stiles' reputation as the one who figures things out proceeds him, as he is the first one to put together that Peter is the Alpha).

There's nothing comedic about the scene on the lacrosse field, when Stiles is kneelng beside Lydia's unconscious form and Peter... for reasons beyond comprehension... decides to curl his claws beneath Stiles' chin and guide him up. Not grab him by the arm and haul him up, not command him, not demand.

This is... sensual, filled with tension, and I don't even necessarily mean the sexual tension (even though the imagery of Stiles kneeling before Peter and Peter grasping his chin is something that I find hard to not see a sexual read on).

Peter kidnaps Stiles into the parking garage to force the boy to track down Derek and, sure, the "His username is Allison? His password is also Allison?" - "Still want him in your pack?" is absolutely iconic and is comedic... how do you boil that entire exchange down to "comedy relief"?

The way Peter offers Stiles the bite - Peter, who so far, only took whatever he wanted, never asked or offered - and doesn't force when Stiles says "No". Even the way Peter catches Stiles on the lie is a moment of tension and revelation on Stiles' part. The way Peter acknowledges Stiles as the clever one.

The season 1 finale? When Stiles sets the survivor of a horrific house fire on fire? Absolute riot, huh. It's vicious, it's cruel - it's everything.

And when Peter is resurrected? Sure, Stiles sarcastically asks if someone can kill him again and sure, Peter snarks about living in a cave system. But even in that episode, these brief comedic moments are absolutely overshadowed by the way Peter and Stiles work together, figure out what the vault is made of, then call Scott to warn him and Derek, by finishing each other's sentences. Two brilliant minds working together, on the same wavelength.

The next time they interact is when Peter tells Stiles about Paige, explains what the blue eyes mean. It's one of the more heavy and serious moments in the season, aside from all the death scenes. It's a big lore drop and character background on both Peter and Derek. And it's Stiles this information is shared with. It's a serious moment and even as Peter tells it all, Stiles doesn't trust, sees past the silver tongue and that too is part of the appeal.

When Peter and Stiles work together to save Cora's life in the hospital, while the Alpha Pack is hunting them down? Blind trust. Stiles asks Peter to help him and Peter doesn't even ask, much less quip, he just follows Stiles' lead and they work together.

Now, I'll admit, I haven't seen seasons 3B through 6 in six years and hey, maybe they'll be a real Abbott and Costello in season 4 and I'm just not remembering it, but damn it all to hell if the first half of the show doesn't present them as two clever minds challenging each other, with a growth from terror and pain to respect and teamwork.

I understand and respect not liking a ship, but I am genuinely baffled when people deliberately misinterpret a canon to suit their needs. Always makes me wonder what alternate reality's version of the show they were watching, surely not the same as me.

#Steter #Teen Wolf #Peter Hale #Stiles Stilinski

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sweetmage · 1 year ago

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When I say I hate being black in this fandom, this is exactly why. The constant dismissal, exclusion, and judgement of the only black character is frustrating. The way some people treat those who are bothered by this is frankly disgusting.

Had someone reply to a post I reblogged about fandom racism the other day calling the OP delusional for being upset (op if you see this I'm so sorry someone did that from my blog).

Saw someone on twitter saying that them excluding Wyll from an artwork they labeled "full party" was fine because they drew a red girl and a green girl (because that is totally the same as black people /s) and then basically said they'll never draw Wyll again.

Seeing constant criticisms and judgements of Wyll for things other characters do and arent criticized for.

The white washing mods, the racist comments on his appearance, the fact that Larian reworked him to appeal to crybaby white gamers, etc. etc.

And now what just happened to Theo in the interview makes me livid. He deserves so much better than being shoved aside by both the fandom and the interviewer.

Y'all really need to examine your biases and behavior and do better. No one has to like Wyll or any other character, but some of y'all need to put some thought into how you behave about him and how you talk about and represent black characters and how you address BIPOC fans who are hurt.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fandom racism #bg3 fandom critical #wyll ravengard #jun rambles #ok to reblog

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beatopia444 · 7 months ago

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UNDERCOVER | jake peralta

summary: jake peralta goes undercover to infiltrate a famous mob and he meets you, the niece of the boss who loves cops.

world count: 3.9k

notes: this is my first one shot and first writing since making this account. my obsession with jake peralta is crazy.

________________________________________

It was no secret that a recently fired police officer was just introduced to the Ianucci crime family. When your father announced it to you, you immediately got up from laying on the couch. It was hard to believe since your family had hated cops since the beginning of time. Although you were apart of the Ianucci family, you weren't involved in whatever business they were apart of due to your mother wanting an normal life. They were still family and as long as no one mentioned business, they could live in harmony.

You were indifferent in your opinion about cops. Many were snobs, but the few that cared for their community were the ones you could respect. Though, you did have to admit that you love a man in uniform and seeing your extended family being apart of the mob, only made the whole uniform more appealing. You weren't close to much of your extended family, only the girls who weren't much involved with the business either.

"Who let him in?" You curiously asked.

"Your uncle Leo. Apparently he got fired from the police force and bought everybody drinks. He made a big scene." He chuckled.

"Mmm. How old is he?" You excitedly inquired, leaning forward in anticipation for the answer. You were a single woman in her twenties, you needed answers.

"Yeah absolutely not." Your father said in his thick Brooklyn accent. "He's an ex-cop, and we all know how cops are. A bunch of playboys I tell you. They are no good."

"As if the Ianucci family is much better." You shook your head, and changed the television channel.

"We aren't. I'll admit that, but we do have loyalty. You never know what these cops will throw at you. If or when the Ianucci family falls, I guarantee it'll be because my brothers or cousins stupidity."

"You think they'll get arrested." You asked.

"Oh honey, they may be my family, but if they get caught, they know what they did. Plus, it'll serve them right for crashing my tenth birthday party and turning it into a mess." Your father shook his head, still holding a grudge over decades old fights.

_____________________________________

You and your father arrived to the family party and he immediately went off to go dance with his cousins while you went to go find a waiter with some food. You didn't really know what to do in some parties, you often drifted through the crowds and mingled with the people, but you always found your way back to the bar.

You sat at the bar, wine glass in one hand and your hand bag in the other. It was peaceful until you notice a guy sitting down right next to you, ordering a drink. You've never seen him before, but you hoped he wasn't an extended family member. He had a rather nice face, a kind, unsuspecting smile, and a fit body. You smiled as he grabbed the drink from the bartender. 'Just my type.'

It was like he sensed you looking as he turned to face you. He smiled once he saw you were staring at him, but you didn't turn away. No, you needed to know who he was. "Hey."

"Why hello there. What's your name?" He replied back, his voice just as charming as him.

"[Name] Ianucci." It was like he was hooked onto the words that slipped out of your mouth. His eyes were mesmerizing. "I haven't seen you around before."

"It's my first party. Leo invited me. I'm Jake Peralta." He held out his hand for her to shake, but she froze. He watched as her eyes widened, her lips parted, and her eyebrows raised.

"The ex-cop!" She gasped then quickly put a hand over her mouth since she said that too loud. No wonder she was so attracted to him, she could spot a man in uniform even if he wasn't in it.

He laughed, "Yes, the ex-cop. Not my proudest moment, but I'm glad I'm no longer one. God, was it the worst possible profession I could've chosen."

"Really? Why do you say that?" She inquired.

"It's filled with a bunch of idiotic snobs and they fired me without good reason so good riddens to them." Jake said as if he didn't love his job and the people he works with. However, he had to play the role perfectly if he didn't want to get found out. Before he went undercover, he was informed about most members of the Ianucci family. Mostly the major characters involved with the mob, as well as their children and extended family. He remembered hearing about [Name] Ianucci, your father left the way of life long ago, but the family still kept in touch. Jake didn't have much information about you. You were the boss's niece but you didn't like to associate yourself with their beliefs. Due to this, you became a small outsider.

"I think being a cop is cool. I used to watch so many movies and if I didn't hate running as much as I do now, I think I would've became one."

"An Ianucci being a cop? I thought you guys hate my kind- wait that sounds off."

"We'll they do cause of you know what, but something about holding a gun and posing like a Charlie's angel seems so cool." You imitated the famous pose as you faked a gun with your hands and Jake shook his head chuckling.

"Hey, if you were on my team then I would've begged for my job back." He admitted and you raised a brow before taking a sip of your drink. Then he immediately paused, realizing what he said. Changing the topic was his best course of action, "So what do you do for work? Do you do the same as them?"

"Oh no. I dont associate myself with what they do, my side of the family decided to pursue other sorts of careers. I'm a first grade teacher."

"Sweet, so like you teach kids and get to play with them. Is it hard?" He tried to sound suave, leaning back in his chair. He was secretly happy to know that the pretty girl didn't do mob activities because that would've clashed with his morals and mission.

"I mean, being a teacher is always difficult, but it's a new experience everyday and I get to build bonds with the children of our future. I wouldn't have it any other way." She fondly smiled as she recalled her job. Jake noticed the ways were eyes softened and lit up. Her body language changed and got more relaxed as she shared her life. "But enough about me, I want to learn more about-"

Before she could finish, she heard the familar voice of an uncle interupt her. "Yo Peralta, come here and sing with us."

The two looked at the group of middle aged to old men, obviously wasted and drunk and having a jolly good time. Jake didn't want to end the conversation with you, but at the same time, he couldn't miss this opportunity to get close with the Ianucci family. You made eye contact once again and you nodded, ushering him to go hang out with your other family.

"We'll continue this conversation next time!" You said and he nodded, smiling and confirming that this won't be the last time you two meet as he shimmied towards the men. You shook your head as you watched him so effortlessly earn the affections of your uncles. He looked so carefree as he partied.

"Oh my was he hot." You whispered, smiling to yourself like an idiot after the interaction, and calling the bartender to serve you one more drink. So what if he was an ex-cop, it couldn't possibly be that bad.

______________________________________

You and Jake Peralta saw each other a few more times after that. Your aunt gave him a small part time job at their restaurant/cafe. He made the coffee, which you ordered every morning, and the sandwiches. You watched as he charmed you aunt and the customers and you fell into his trap as well as he used every morning he could with you there to talk to you. A joke a day keeps the doctor away, as Jake would say as you laughed at almost every one of his jokes

"Hey hey hey, [name]." Jake greeted as you sat right across from him. He started hanging out quite frequently at your distant uncle's restaurant which was right by your house. Jake was one step ahead of you and already had your favorite coffee order ready. "Another long day of entertaining the little devils."

"Once again, they are seven and most are little angels but thank you for the drink." You took a sip before your eyes landed on his hair. His entire appearance has changed a lot since you met him. His hair grew longer and he started to slick it back using gel. He wasn't wearing the button up shirts anymore, and instead switched to tracksuits even when you said it wasn't his best look. "Your hair looks a lot better now that you've grown it out."

"What can I say? Just call me the next Brad Pitt." He flipped his imaginary long hair and smiled as he watched your smile.

"Absolutely not, but I appluad your effort." You smiled as his face fell into a pout. It was the mornings like this that made you excited to wake up and get ready. Ever since Jake started to hang around, you've been waking up a tad bit earlier to spend extra time getting ready and sleeping a tad bit later due to the uncontrollable smile on your face.

"Why do you even like being a teacher? All I can imagine are those little children gluing crayons onto their fingernails and eating it." He started playing with his fingers to try and model what he thinks the kids would look like.

"First of all, never do that again because it is not cute."

"Hey! Everything I do is cute." Jake got offended while you just stared at him as if he was an alien. It didn't last long because you can never get over his pouty face that makes him look like a sad dog.

"Second of all, I just love being around kids. When I was a child, my parents were almost never around until I got older. When my dad left the family business and pursued another career, it took up most of his time and my mom lives overseas. Teachers were the ones that filled in that parental role and I wanted to be just like them." When you finished your little backstory, Jake was staring at you which made you look down in embarrassment, "Sorry for the rant, I-"

"No, dont apologize, I get it." His voice seemed softer, softer than the voice he uses to tease you with, softer than the voice he uses to flirt with you, softer than the manly voice he uses around your uncles; it felt real. "My parents weren't really there either so I spent my childhood alone watching 'Die Hard'."

"I love that movie. I used to watch that too since my dad has it on the DVDs" You shared a comforting look.

"God, you just get more perfect don't you." He quickly spoke as he melted, your hands were quickly grasped in his. That was new. Maybe you should mention 'Die Hard' again if this was going to be his reaction.

"Looks like we're more alike than we think." You smiled, looking at your intertwined hands. He either didn't let go because there was no going back or he liked the feeling.

"You can add both being late because I am never on time and you are about to be tardy young lady."

Panic filled your eyes and you hastly got up from your seat, taking your bag and coffee, and pushed in your chair, "Bye bye!"

"Bye" Jake said in a sing songy voice as he waved and watched you entire your car before driving off.

________________________________________

You both shared a sandwich that was cut in half as the streets filled with people walking to work or to get their morning drink or breakfast.

"So, are you going to the wedding tomorrow?" His tone seemed a bit different. You couldn't quite place your finger on it, but lately hes been a bit more fidgety. Maybe the wedding makes him feel lonely and he was about to ask you?

"Oh, I wish I could, but I don't really like those two getting married so I'd rather not waste my time." You shamelessly admitted and he looked almost relieved.

"How about your dad?"

"He doesn't like them either and he left on a business trip last night and wont return until next week." You told him, "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering since it seems like a big event." His eyes widened as he emphasized the word big. "But there's no need for you to come anyways if you don't like them-"

"Did you want me to come?" You tilted your head as he stumbled for the right answer. You were honestly hoping that he would finally ask you out and you wouldn't have to be carefully searching through the restaurant windows to see if he was there.

"Oh no. Noooo. Not at all. You really shouldn't come." He was way too dismissive and offensive and it came out way harsher than he expected.

"Oh." You simply said and you could definitely feel your heart being cracked right open from embarrassment of ever thinking he was going to ask you out. It's not like you were daydreaming during work or right before bed of him asking you, but a simple no would be sufficed.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Jake saw the way the corners of her lips turned slightly down and wanted to punch himself for not choosing his words carefully. It's been two months since he started this undercover mission. The first four were spent learning the Ianucci family and how they operated. Now that he has successfully infiltrated the family, it was time for the hardest part. Breaking the connections he had formed. At first, he thought it would be a piece of pie. The only thing he shouldn't do is actually care about these people. That shouldn't have been hard since they were all criminals... Most were criminals at least. He was never supposed to keep talking to you, that wasn't the plan. He should have never asked why you wanted to be a cop, he should've never asked why kids made you so happy, and he should've never talked to you to begin with, but he did, and now he has to face the consequences of his actions.

Although you weren't involved with the business, they were still your blood-related family. They invited you and your dad to the parties and gave you discounts in the stores that they owned. Sure, you didn't like or associate yourself with most of them, but Jake knew you still cared for them because they were family and he didn't know how he could ever face you again for what he'll be doing at the wedding.

"I mean I'd love to have you as my partner to the wedding, but I wouldn't want to make you be somewhere you don't want to be. Especially since we all know that the groom is a dirty cheat and the bride is the definition of a mean girl." He rambled and you agreed with the last part since you watched him up with most of the drama. "But, that's not to say that I wouldn't want to go with you because you know- it's you, and-"

"Okay Peralta. Slow down. Down forget to breath." You used slow down movements with your hands, bringing it up and down slowly to make him stop rambling.

Jake stopped his rant and took a deep, deep breath.

"I get it, you don't need to defend yourself so much."

"Let me restate. [Name] Ianucci, I would be honored to be your partner or whatever gathering you want, except the wedding. That is if you'd still want me to after the wedding-"

"Of course I would!" She interrupted him, a gummy smile slapped across her face and Jake soon matched it with his own after she joyfully agrtowards. couldn't even act nonchalant like you'd imagined you would if he ever asked. You were so overwhelmed with joy that you totally missed the part where he said 'if you'd still want me after the wedding.' It was a simple sentence that you overlooked any double meaning towards. "Ehem, I mean cool.

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool." Jake leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his iced drink as a goofy smile etched across his face. However, despite how happy he should've been in that moment, it was soon crushed by the overwhelming feeling of guilt as you excused yourself to go to work.

________________________________________

Shock wasn't enough to describe what you felt as you watched the news. Short videos and photos played across the screen as the news reporter reported on New York's latest arrests and there you found partially blurred photos of extended family and the wedding venue that you didn't attend. It didn't feel real as you saw the police arrest people you've seen at family gatherings. Someone must have snitched and you have a feeling that you know exactly who.

Jake Peralta. It started to make sense. He practically told you to not attend the wedding, but you were too caught up to understand why. Had you attended the wedding without his heads up, you would've been another person in those handcuffs.

You felt betrayed, but also protected. He had asked for you and your father's whereabouts before the entire thing happened. Was this his way of keeping you safe? Did he actually have feelings or did he just want to use you to learn more about the family and you gave it to him?

Scenes flashed throughout your mind as your reminded of all the times he asked odd questions and all the times you spilled to him the secrets. You began to form a headache as your reality came crashing down.

Your father had predicted the fall to happen somewhat like this. It was your Uncle's stupidity to let in an ex-cop and now look at where that landed them. You wouldn't say that you were sad, you anticipated the day where karma would take its place for all the victims of their business; you just never would have guessed that you fell in love with the person who caused that downfall.

Love, what a silly feeling to feel towards someone who you were sure abandoned you. Would he even fulfill his promise to take you on a date after this entire wedding? Should you be mad at him for doing his job and lying to you about his identity? What was real and what was fake?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Who was it? Who could be knocking at your door at 10 in the night. Could it be the cops coming to arrest you for not outing your family? You quietly snuck to the door, scared to see the person who lurks behind it. It was a polite knock, not a police-y at all. Maybe it was a friend or cousin. You slowly opened the door, and peeked your head to see who it was.

"Jake Peralta?" You said his full name in suprise.

"[Name], please can we talk." He looked like desperate as he towered over you, his arm on the frame of the door, and the other on the door knob.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Jake." You were wary and didn't know how to feel. Evergtbing was happening all at once and you felt lost, but you needed answers.

"Please, give me a chance to explain everything." He pleaded with desperate eyes. "I know you're probably confused and upset, but let me explain and you can ask questions."

"Come in." You stepped aside and let him into your home for the very first time. It wasn't the scenario you imagined but it was a something. You walked over to the living room but neither one of you felt like this was a conversation to be had sitting down.

"It was you wasn't it? The one who sold them out?"

"Yes. It was." He admitted, "I'm still a cop."

"So you were just undercover the whole time?"

"Yes, I approached your uncle at the bar and it went from there. I can't say much- actually I already am, but, you weren't supposed to be apart of it."

"Stop right there, Peralta. Just give me a moment." You took a deep breath and when you thought you were ready to speak, your mouth held you back. A few more sighs later and you were ready with your next quest, "When we were talking? Did you approach me to just get more information?"

"Well, no. I thought you were cute so I sat down next to you at the bar. That wasn't the higher ups telling me to do it, that was my free will." Jake cracked an awkward smile, but saw on her face that that was not the tone. "I was already informed that you and you father have no part in the business so you weren't really on my radar. When we started talking, sure you did give me the latest gossip, but I wanted to talk to you. Like for realsies."

"So when you told me that you grew up alone-"

"That was all true. Everything I told you about myself was true, except for the whole undercover cool secret spy thing. You have every right to be mad-"

"I'm not mad." You told him and Jake's eyebrows shot up.

"You're not?"

"You were just doing your job and I can respect you for protecting your city, like batman." You sighed, regretting references batman in this serious conversation. "Most of my family there don't like me and do terrible stuff anyways. We were only relates by blood, besides, you did tell me not to go."

"I didn't want you to see the aftermath of everything. You had no part in anything and-

"But wouldn't I still get in trouble for not reporting it? I mean, I knew what kind of people they were but I didnt say anything." Jake stayed silent and she continued, "Why protect me? There are others in there that had no part too. Why me?"

"Because..." he trailed off, feeling his heart start to race as you looked at him to continue, "Because, your special to me. I really really like you, [Name]. I like the way you talk, the way speak about your students, the way you smile, the way your eyes softened when you talk about things you love. The way you put up with my childish antics and act like you don't like it but smile just seconds later. You never judge when I'm talking and I like you so much that I feel like I'm about to burst. I would rather you hate me than me not be in your life at all. I know I lied but I am serious about you and when this is all over, I want to fulfill the promise I made to you. I am in love with you."

I am in love with you. That's all you needed to make your decision. Your hands found it's way to the sides of his face and your lips found it's way to his. He immediately wrapped his hands around your waist, one resting one the small of your back and the other resting on your hip, stabling the both of you admist your passion. You moved your right hand into his hair that was already ruffled and messed up as he was running and finding his way to your apartment. He kissed you as if he was been yearning for the touch of a woman for centuries. It was so gentle but so passionate that you could feel your face getting hotter and heart beating faster. You both pulled each other as close as possible and he leaned forward to try and deeply feel you even closer. When you finally did break the kiss, he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, drunken on love and the sight you.

You grabbed his chin and softly brought it closer, "I love you too. The way that you joke around, the way that you smile, the way you talk, the stupid smile on your face when you talk about 'Die Hard' or the stories you had when you were a cop. I love all of it. I love you." You whispered and he rested his head on your shoulder, overwhelming happy that he didn't ruin one of the best things in his life.

"So, it's after the wedding technically. How about that date-" He started as you just melted into his chest.

"Just shush and enjoy this moment. We'll figure out everything later. Let's go to my room." You grabbed his hand and led him to your room, "While I have your attention though, you need to drop these tracksuits because I love a man in uniform."

"Already on it." He smirked as you closed and locked the door. You, [Name] Ianucci, dating and being with a cop whose absolutely hated by your family. What's the worse that could happen?

#jake peralta x reader #jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #jake peralta oneshot #b99 #brooklyn99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta x you

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year ago

Text

don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer (you are here) // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel // belphie -- NSFW warning below, gn!reader

lucifer, who would never say no to lord diavolo. he wasn't exactly fond of the whole "exchange program" idea, knowing the power imbalance between the three realms, but lord diavolo had his heart set on bringing humans and angels into the devildom. lucifer could only do his best to make sure things would go smoothly. the weakest member-- some human devoid of magical skills or means to defend themselves, unlike the other applicants-- would be living in the house of lamentation, where him and his brothers could make sure you at least survived the whole program. he's not exactly pleased by the whole thing (and hiding belphegor away for the whole year will certainly be taxing, both mentally and emotionally) but, whatever the prince wants...

lucifer, who doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. he doesn't like how you're cozying up to his brothers, wrapping them around your fingers with pacts, avoiding his eyes as he watches your interactions. make no mistake. you're here on the whims of lord diavolo, but that doesn't mean he has to be nice to you. just keep your head down and you'll survive. oh-- and don't make meddling in his family's affairs a habit. he will not hesitate even a moment to get rid of you if he perceives you as a threat.

lucifer, who is quite popular. even though he makes only a minimal effort to socialize with others (he's far too busy with student council work to cultivate a large group of friends), nobles and common folk alike flock to him. this, in turn, brings forward a lot of romantic attention. it's not uncommon for at least one demon a week to confess their undying love to him-- something he politely yet firmly declines. but it's foolish to assume that a man such as him doesn't have needs or desires. lucifer oozes sex appeal with just a heated glance, and most of the time he doesn't even need to speak before the demon in his sights is crossing the room at lord diavolo's party to meet with him. he politely excuses himself from the prince's side to escort the lucky demon somewhere private. there's no romance in his touches, but there is passion, all lust and want, as he uses his teeth to yank his glove off and roughly caresses the demon's quivering sex. he's not above using spit as lubrication, it falling from his lips with husky taunts as he lines himself up with their hole, now thoroughly slick with with their juices and his saliva, pushing in carefully as to not cause any pain. his gloved hand clamps over their mouth while the exposed one reaches forward to toy with their sex. he groans when they clench around him, then buries his face in their neck as he begins to fuck them from behind into a wall, or bookshelf, or whatever's closest. he murmurs filth in their ear as he fucks them ruthlessly, their muffled cries of pleasure meeting and dying against his palm. they continue until he's satisfied, until cum dribbles out of their tight hole and forms creamy rings around the base of his cock. he pulls their underwear up with a swat against their ass and tells them not to make a mess that barbatos will have to clean later. he stalks off to find a bathroom to freshen up in-- if they're lucky, they'll hear from him again in the future.

lucifer, who can set his pride aside for you. you've wormed your way into his heart, somehow, charming him during the exchange program with a combination of persistence and genuine care. he won't admit he's smitten, for he is far too proud to bicker with his brothers for your attention. you'll have to see it yourself. notice the way he looks at you from across the room and acknowledges you with a nod, or the brush of his hand against your arm as he passes you in the hallway, or the way he'll decline a call just to hear you speak a little longer. his ballroom rendezvous cease almost instantaneously, without his notice-- the demons may try to catch his eye again, but his ruby gaze never strays from you, from watching you sway in his arms on the dancefloor. he's head over heels. fuck, he's so in love with you it hurts. nights like these peel back the layers of the avatar of pride and let the rest of the world get a glimpse at the sides of him reserved just for you. all for you.

lucifer, who loves nights like these. the two of you are intertwined in his office, you sat on his lap as he sips lazily at a mixture of demonus and gold hellfire newt syrup. his blood pumps loudly in his ears but all he can see is you. you don't give him a command to cancel the syrup's effects, but he doesn't mind-- you command him with your hands, with your eyes as you run your fingers along his body. his crawl up your side before cradling the back of your head, pulling you into a heated kiss. your body melts into his like wax under a flame, conforming to the curves and planes of his body like they were made for you, fuck, Father must have made him for you. why else would you feel so perfect in his arms? why else would he have been damned, fallen from the celestial realm for defending love between human and a supernatural being, fated to experience it himself? there's an invisible string tying the two of you together. he wears it like a badge of honor. he'd let you tie him up with it if you kept grinding your hips against his like that, tongue lapping at the skin of his throat as you mark him. he can't bring himself to care about the taunts he'll endure tomorrow. lord diavolo's curious looks and pointed questions mean nothing when he has you on top of him. he's drunk on your love, surely, demonus and syrup blended in his veins paling in comparison to the love he has for you. he'd do it all again, fall to hell, lose his life if it meant you'd moan like that as he scissors his fingers in your hole, wet with your intertwined saliva, his precum, and your slick, the juices glinting in the firelight as he pushes them in and out of you. he won't stop until you're cumming around his fingers. he'd normally toy with you longer, but he's honestly so overwhelmed by the heat of your love that he feels he might fully go insane if he's not inside you within the next minute. you align yourself over his weeping cock and ease yourself down. he moans, loudly, enough for someone nearby to hear. lucifer doesn't give a shit. your hands find his and your fingers intertwine, stabilizing you enough to begin lovingly, carefully bouncing yourself on his cock. he's been thoroughly damned, that he's sure of, but this is truly the closest thing to heaven he'll ever see again-- your love is worth a thousand angels, a million glimpses into the celestial realm. and it's all his, just as he's all yours.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #om nb #obey me smut #otome #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer smut

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