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minisugakoobies · 1 year

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Ashes Falling | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: weapons - guns, switching POVs, angst!, allusions to murder, mentions of blood/wounds, fighting (hand-to-hand), shooting, Yoongi shows off that tongue technology (oral sex - f receiving), rough fucking (protected sex), Yoongi is not a good guy (ymmv)

Word Count: 5.3k (whoops)

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: I see the ashes falling out your window There's someone in the mirror that you don't know And everything was all wrong So burn it till it's all gone

A/N: And we've reached the end! This series came out of absolutely nowhere thanks to @minttangerines's beautiful brain and it's been fun just writing with no plan and no expectations. Thank you for riding along! 💜

Chapter title and summary from Agust D's masterpiece Burn It 🔥

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 6 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist

Then

Yoongi sits across from you, one hand resting on the dining table, the other playing with a glass of whisky. Around and around, the caramel liquid swirls. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was trying to hypnotize you.

And it might work, if you were anyone else. Of course, anyone else would already be under the handsome man’s thrall. Especially the way he looks tonight - in his tailored suit, bespoke undoubtedly, since money is apparently no object for him, and with his dark hair slicked back to reveal more of his gorgeous face.

When he’d asked you to dinner tonight, you’d felt a slight thrill of victory, knowing that your plan was working. You’d succeeded so far in inserting yourself into his life. All the secrets the Bureau wanted so desperately for you to discover were practically within your grasp. You just needed a sign from him to confirm that you’re in.

“So are you thinking of extending your contact?” Yoongi asks, sipping at his drink. You’d told him when you’d first met that you were working for Da-som’s school for a year, with the option to extend if the school agreed. He speaks casually, almost disinterestedly, but you can hear the true question beneath - are you staying?

“I think so. I really like it here.”

A hint of a smile crosses his face at your answer. Long fingers reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and produce a cigarette, which he lights with the click of a flashy silver lighter. There’s not supposed to be any smoking in this restaurant, but no one’s going to stop the chief detective of the city’s police force, and he knows it. It’s a power move.

“Good,” is all he says, blowing a smoke ring towards the ceiling.

Anyone other than you would be affected by his reaction. By the heated look he gives you, gaze slipping down your face, down to your waist, and back. Not you, though. You know better than to fall for any of this.

This is what you remind yourself as you push your thighs together, trying to still the sudden throbbing there.

Your waiter returns with the bill and Yoongi simply reaches into his pocket, dropping a stack of cash on the tray without looking. Another power move.

“Thank you for dinner,” you smile shyly, setting down your dessert fork. “I’m - I’m glad you asked me. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you better these last few weeks.”

He leans forward, reaching his hand across the table to where yours is resting. When his fingers tap you, you flip your hand over and he slides his hand on top of yours. You immediately register something cool and hard between your palms.

“Me too,” he says softly. “And I don’t want to stop.”

He pulls his hand back a little, curling your fingers around what he’s left behind. Yoongi stands, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it as he bows.

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmurs, lips humming against your skin, and then he walks away. You track him as he saunters confidently through the crowded room, until he reaches the entrance of the restaurant and vanishes.

Opening your hand, you stare down at the piece of plastic lying there. A room key, to the hotel next door. There it is - your sign.

The excitement that blazes through you is the ecstasy of knowing you’ve succeeded. Of realizing that you’re one step closer to the win, and nothing else.

This is what you tell yourself as you rise to your feet, and follow.

Now

Your bag rests on the passenger seat as you hurtle down the highway. The car you’re driving is a piece of shit, but you were in no position to barter when you’d asked Seokjin if he had anything you could borrow to finish your mission. He’d called a friend of a friend and mere minutes later you were on your way.

The police cruiser is still at Seokjin's, along with Jungkook. Your partner had been sleeping when you’d left, whispering a quick goodbye, telling him to stay put and rest while you finished the job. Seokjin promised he’d take care of him and you had no doubt that he would be safe there.

The car’s shocks are fairly worn, meaning every little bump in the road sends your satchel bouncing. Instinctively, you reach out, searching until you find the little key tucked away in an inner pocket. The cold metal soothes you as you clutch at it anxiously. This is it, the final key to bringing Yoongi down.

Your plan is, frankly, insane. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Thankfully, Seokjin gave you access to his personal arsenal, which is not small. But even if you’re strapped to the teeth, you’ll practically need a miracle.

However, you’re not the praying type. Your faith resides solely in yourself. So you breathe deeply, and keep your eyes firmly on the road as you run through your plan again and again in your mind.

As the bay comes into view, you pull over, parking the car near the entrance to the neighborhood where Yoongi’s second house resides. You’ll have to go on foot from here, to remain unseen by his men. Yoongi’s too careful to leave this place unmanned.

You approach the fence bordering his mansion, peering between the iron bars. His vacation home is massive, a sprawling ode to excess, flaunting his new wealth. The layout of the place is fresh in your mind, thanks to floor plans stolen from the developer. Unfortunately, that’s not going to help you much if you’re outnumbered by Yoongi’s men. If only you could’ve waited for sundown, to give you more cover, or waited for backup, but right now you don’t have the luxury of time.

A hand suddenly slips over your mouth and your eyes widen as someone presses their body against your back. Fuck! You grasp at their arm, readying yourself to attack, when a familiar voice hisses, “Don’t scream! It’s me.”

“Jungkook! What the fuck!”

Your partner releases you. He’s a little paler than usual, but otherwise looks like himself, even in Seokjin’s clothing, a black t-shirt tucked under a Kevlar vest, colorful sleeve of tattoos bright in the midday sun.

“Did you really think I was gonna let you do this alone?” He grins, ignoring your scowl. “Now what’s the plan?”

There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s here now, and even though you’re full of conflicting emotions - anger that he didn’t listen to you, guilt that you’re the reason he got injured - the feeling that overrides them all is pure, intense relief. Of course he’s by your side. You’re not alone.

It doesn’t take long to fill him in. You’re basically just going in there with guns blazing, hoping to fight your way to where you believe Yoongi’s safe sits, holding the box with the secrets that little key will unlock.

Jungkook just nods when you’ve finished. “Got it.”

“We should probably call for backup.”

“Already did, on the way here. They’ll be here as fast as they can, but something tells me that you don’t want to wait.”

“I don’t.” You need this to be over, now.

“Okay then. Ready when you are.”

“Jungkook.” You pause, unsure how to say this. “I’m sorry. For everythi- ”

But he stops you with a shake of his head. “None of that. We’ve got a job to do.” He cups his hands, waiting to give you a boost over the fence. “Come on. You lead. I’ll follow. Like always.”

With a nod of your own, you step onto his hands, and climb the fence.

Then

Yoongi glances at his watch. It’s only been five minutes since he left you sitting at the table, but it feels much, much longer. Too long. He loosens his tie a bit as he waits. His suit jacket is folded over the back of the chair beside the bed. The room is quiet.

Is he rushing things? It’s very like him to do that. He could move more slowly with you. But, well, he doesn’t want to. He wants you now.

Which is why he’s here, perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. Waiting.

It’s not just about sex. If Yoongi only wanted to get his dick wet, he wouldn’t have to take anyone out on several dates first. That’s not arrogance - it’s a fact that he radiates power, and women are attracted to that. And he knows he looks good. He has mirrors.

No, it’s more than that - although he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been imagining this moment since the first time he saw you in Da-som’s classroom. He’d been so distracted by your beauty at the parent-teacher conference that he’d accidentally agreed to chaperone a class trip, just nodding along to whatever you were saying while picturing what you’d look like if he bent you over your desk right then and there. But beyond his baser needs, there’s something else. Something that draws him to you. He senses a kindred spirit. He needs to know how deep that connection goes.

There’s a loud click and the door suddenly opens. Yoongi stands as you enter.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” you say, biting your lip before smiling sweetly.

In just three steps he’s across the room, pulling you into his arms for a passionate kiss.

He quietly orders you to lift your arms, and the gorgeous dress you’d worn to dinner crumples into a soft ball of fabric on the ground. With sure steps he maneuvers you towards the bed, helping you sit on the edge, kindly freeing your breasts from the confining corsetry of your bra as he goes. While you settle onto the soft sheets, he slides your panties down your legs, taking care to rake his fingers along the soft skin there, delighting in the way you shudder at his touch.

The plush carpet gives way beneath his knees as he kneels, leaning over to kiss you, getting lost in the incredible softness of your lips for a moment, until your hands reach for the buttons on his shirt. His hands lightly push yours away as he shakes his head.

“Not yet, baby.”

“But I wanna see you,” you say, pretty mouth turning down in a lovely little pout. “It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.”

He just chuckles. Smoothly, he undoes one cufflink, then the other, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. His forearms flex with the motion, drawing your attention, and he smirks.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you, “I’ll still put on a good show for you.”

He kneels again, gently pressing his fingers into the bare skin of your stomach, urging you to lie back. One of your thighs comes to rest on his shoulder, then the other. With one hand he spreads your folds, saliva flooding his mouth at the glistening sight in front of him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look good enough to eat.”

You mewl as he kisses your dripping cunt, over and over, getting his mouth all sticky with your desire. Yoongi always follows through on his promises, and this is no exception. You can’t tear your eyes away from the dark-haired man as he rubs his lips, his tongue, his nose all over you, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Occasionally your head drops back, your eyes closing as if overwhelmed by the sensations, but then they immediately open again, not wanting to miss a second.

“Yoongi.”

Panting moans fill Yoongi’s ears as he drowns in you. When he finds the right rhythm with his tongue on your clit, a rapid lapping that has your hips lifting off the bed, he slides a finger inside your slick warmth, then two, three, and your moans become cries. Pleas, broken and desperate, begging him for more.

Impatience roars up inside him again and he lets your legs slide from his broad shoulders. His cock aches as he tears off his clothing, sheathing himself with the condom waiting in his pocket, and you’ve barely moved up on the bed to make room for him when he’s sliding inside you. Fuck. So warm, so tight. A space carved out just for him.

The headboard smacks into the wall repeatedly as Yoongi thrusts into you, hips slapping your ass with every sharp snap. You’re babbling, an endless stream of words pouring from your mouth, but the only words Yoongi can make out are “Yoongi” and “more.”

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you everything. Anything you could ever want.”

He goes harder, faster, driving his cock deeper and deeper. His hands grope at your breasts, your ass, as you take everything he has to give. When he feels your walls start to constrict, it’s almost a relief, because he’s not going to last much longer. And sure enough, when your orgasm hits, your cunt grips his cock so tightly that he cums, head dropping onto your chest as he fills the condom with his hot release.

He lies that way, cheek pressed into the curve of your breast, breathing heavily as you both come down. From here, he can feel your heart pounding. It’s not identical to the way his own drums, but instead compliments it, a wild syncopation beating along to the steady pulse of his own tempo. His fingers tap along your sternum.

“Is that morse code?” Your voice is just barely above a whisper, as if you don’t want to shatter the peaceful stillness of the moment.

He lifts his head, smiling. “That’s your heartbeat. I’m playing along.”

“Playing what, my collarbones?”

“My piano.” His fingers dance over imaginary keys, caressing your skin so, so gently.

“I didn’t know you had a piano. Or that you could play.”

There’s so much you don’t know about him. So much he wants to show you. But he knows that it will take time. He has to ease you into his world.

“I’ll play for you sometime,” he says, crawling up your body until his face hovers over yours. “If you’d like.”

“I would like that. Very much,” you reply, lips curling into a shy grin, and he kisses it away until you’re breathless.

Eventually, he has to go. He needs to get home to Da-som. Yoongi can defeat any enemy - except a babysitter with a curfew.

He sits on the edge of the bed, fixing his tie, as you watch him from beneath the sheets. “The room’s paid for until tomorrow, so you can stay all night if you want. Order some room service in the morning. Treat yourself, sweetheart.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “You keep calling me that.”

“Is that okay?”

In reply, you pull him in for another kiss, and he sighs, wishing he could stay. Or take you home with him. But he’s not ready to have that conversation with Da-som yet. Even though he’s rushing everything else.

He taps his fingers on your chest. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

He starts to rise, but you grab his wrist, holding him in place.

“Yoongi. I don’t…”

He says nothing, waiting for you to find your words.

“I don’t do this with every father I meet, you know,” you finish, flashing that beautiful bashful smile again.

“Just me?”

“Just you.” Your hand reaches out to straighten his tie, but then you gently brush your fingertips over his chest, mimicking his actions from earlier. Tap-tap-tap.

In that moment, Yoongi knows. He’ll do anything for you. Like he told you earlier, when he was wrapped in your arms - he’ll give you anything you want.

All you have to do is ask.

Now

Bodies. So many bodies, scattered around the grounds of his house. Yoongi blinks dispassionately at them all. He thought he’d hired the best. Clearly, he was wrong.

Yoongi honestly hadn’t known what to expect when he and Jimin arrived at his house on the bay. One of his guards had called him while he was on his way here and alerted him that you’d been spotted near the fence bordering his property. He’d hoped that when he got here, he’d find you waiting for him, tied to a chair by one of his guards. But it appears that he’d underestimated your skills, if you managed to take out so many of his men at once.

No one appears to be dead, but they’re all knocked out or wounded. Interesting. Are you afraid to use lethal force? Or are you just saving your best shots for him?

Together, he and Jimin sweep the first floor, finding nothing but his more useless guards. With a few silent signals, Jimin indicates that he’s going to scout ahead, and begins to climb the stairs. Yoongi watches him disappear down the hallway with a growing sense of unease. He tightens his grip on his gun.

Jimin reappears after a moment, shaking his head. There’s only the other end of the hallway to explore now. The master suite is down that way. Where, in one of the walk-in closets, nestled in the corner, sits Yoongi’s safe.

Maybe you’re not here. Maybe you’re already gone, with the contents of the safe firmly in tow. Maybe it’s all over, and any second now, this place will be swarming with feds. For the briefest of moments, Yoongi feels the strangest sense of relief at the thought.

And then the moment is broken as a very loud “God damn it!!” rings out.

Jimin instinctively points his gun in the direction of the screaming. It’s coming from the master suite. Yoongi joins him at the top of the stairs.

“It’s her,” he states in a hushed tone. “That’s her voice.”

“Sounds like someone might be giving her a rough time?”

There are no other sounds coming from the direction of the suite. No more curses, no scuffling, none of the sickening noises that a human body makes when someone else is beating the shit out of it.

“Nah. She’s working on the combination.”

“At least it sounds like it’s not going well.”

For the moment. You have the key to the safe, but it’s a dual lock system, requiring a combination as well. Yoongi has no doubt you’ll figure out the date he used. It’s just a matter of time.

So he’d better not give you any more.

Yoongi grimaces, the gun suddenly heavy in his hands. “You ready?”

Jimin nods.

Silently, they creep forward. The door to the master suite looms at the end of the hall, and Yoongi feels his already frantic pulse increasing with every step.

And then a floorboard creaks under Yoongi’s foot. Loudly.

Both men pause, staring at one another. Listening. Waiting.

The door at the end of the hall starts to open. Jimin dives into an empty room to his left, while Yoongi dashes into the bathroom on his right

The mirror mounted on the wall faces towards the end of the hallway. As Yoongi hides, he stares at the reflection of the person emerging from the suite. Shit, it’s Jungkook, gun drawn as he carefully sweeps the other open rooms down the hall. So much for Jimin’s incredible marksman skills - the rookie cop slash undercover agent doesn’t look any worse for wear, let alone dead.

The door at the end of the hall opens again. Yoongi’s breath catches. With a fiercely determined expression on your face and that gun in your hand, you look nothing like the sweet, shy teacher he met all those months ago. A mirthless chuckle bubbles up in his chest. He clenches his jaw to keep it down. Funny how he was right - you are a kindred spirit, after all. Just a funhouse version of one. Staring at him from the other side of the mirror.

“Jungkook,” he hears you whisper, tracing your partner’s footsteps. “Where are you?”

“In here. Did you crack it?” Jungkook reappears, gun lowered, and -

BANG!

A bullet slices through the air between you and Jungkook. The two of you immediately dive, raising your guns in the direction of the gunshot - which, of course, was just Jimin announcing his presence.

“Drop your weapon and come out!” you shout.

Jimin just laughs, shaking his head. “Does that shit ever work?”

“Goddamn it, it’s that maniac again,” you hiss, loud enough for Yoongi to hear.

“Did you miss me, love?” Another wild cackle. Yoongi glares at the younger man, but says nothing, not wanting to give away his location.

Faster than lightning, Jimin fires another shot towards the end of the hall.

“Fuck!” Jungkook yells, placing himself between you and the line of sight to the room where Yoongi can see Jimin crouching just inside. “Get back in there and keep trying! I’ll handle this asshole.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, Yoongi looks at Jimin. He points to himself and then the door at the end of the hall. Jimin nods.

“Oh, you will, will you?” Jimin taunts Jungkook. He grins at Yoongi. “I think - HEY!” Jimin dives aside as a bullet pierces the doorway, embedding itself firmly in the open door that Jimin was just leaning against. “You son of a bitch, you almost clipped my hair!”

“Next one’s going in your forehead!”

“As if you could hit my forehead!”

“How can I miss a target that big?”

“THAT’S IT!” Jimin roars. “YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?” He rolls up his sleeves, giant snake tattoo on his arm practically dancing as he clenches his fists.

“Yeah! You already took one from me! It’s time for payback!”

Jimin unbuckles his harness, letting the weapons hit the floor. “Then let’s do this! I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands!”

“LET’S GO, MOTHERFUCKER!” Jungkook screams, and suddenly there are two blurs flying down the hallway towards each other. They collide with a loud “whump!” and Yoongi quickly slips out of the bathroom and towards the master suite.

He opens the door slowly, much slower than the adrenaline coursing through his body wants him to, but he doesn’t want you to hear him entering. The two men behind him pay no attention, lost in their frenzy, powerful blows landing left and right. Yoongi closes the door just as carefully, twisting the knob so the lock clicks quietly into place.

Gun raised, he takes one step towards the closet. Then another. The door is wide open, but the closet is so big that he can’t see the safe in the corner. Or you.

As soon as he crosses the threshold, there’s a loud shriek as you jump out from behind the door and tackle him. His gun goes flying. He lands on his side, the breath in his lungs whooshing out hurriedly as you roll on top of him, thighs straddling his chest.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” You cock your gun, aiming it straight at his head. “I knew that maniac didn’t come alone.”

Although your hands are steady, your chest rises with every panting breath you take, Yoongi notes. He feels his entire tensed body relax. You’re scared.

Good.

Yoongi smirks. “What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Shoot me?” He grabs the barrel of your gun as you gasp, but your finger doesn’t squeeze the trigger, even when he pulls it down until it presses into his forehead. “Go ahead.”

“Stop it!” You try to yank your gun free, but he refuses to let go. You tug harder and harder, until he finally relinquishes his grip, and the force of your momentum throws you off balance. Yoongi scrambles to grab his gun as you’re knocked into a pile of hangers and clothing lying in a heap on the ground. When you rise, there’s a bright red line of blood seeping down your cheek, from where a hanger has cut you.

The two of you face off, guns drawn. Yoongi tuts.

“Oh, sweetheart, your face. That looks nasty.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snarl.

“No? But I thought you liked it?”

“I never did.”

“Ah. Right. All part of the game, huh?” Yoongi laughs. “None of it was real, huh.”

“It’s all over now.” Blood trickles down your cheek, dripping onto the pristine white carpet below. “Put the gun down, Yoongi. Think about Da-som. Think about -”

“No!” Yoongi takes a step forward. You hold your ground, but he swears he catches a flash of fear in your eyes. He should know, he’s seen it many times before. “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do! No one tells me what to do! I make the rules around here. I call the shots!”

“Not anymore! We know everything. Everything. Your empire is burning down, Yoongi - don’t throw your life away trying to protect ashes!”

“Oh, you know everything?” The mad laughter that’s been choking him finally slips past his lips. “Do you really? Fuck! You have no fucking idea!” Another step forward. He keeps his gun raised, but he’s cackling so wildly that his aim is all over the place. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done for you? What I would’ve given you? Anything you wanted, anything you needed, it all would’ve been yours!”

“It wasn’t real, Yoongi!”

“IT WAS REAL TO ME!”

You freeze, eyes wide, as his shout echoes through the suite. Faintly, Yoongi can hear Jungkook and Jimin still fighting in the hallway. But it’s dead silent in the closet, where you’re still gazing at his face, as if searching for some sort of sign.

Yoongi lowers his gun. He closes the gap between you, ignoring that your gun is now pointed directly at his heart, and reaches out with steady fingers.

Tap-tap-tap

The silence in the closet is stifling, pressing in on him. But then you take in a shuddery breath. When Yoongi dares to look up, he sees tears in your eyes.

But time, it seems, has run out.

In the distance, but growing closer, he can hear the blaring wail of sirens.

“YN!” Jungkook yells. The doorknob rattles. “Are you okay in there?”

Yoongi’s fucked. He’s going down, and -

“Go,” you whisper. “You have to run.”

There’s a loud thumping. Jungkook must be trying to break the door down with brute force. He’ll probably go grab his gun and try to shoot his way in next. Or any moment now, agents are going to come crashing through the windows. These are the panicked thoughts that race through Yoongi’s mind and prevent him from understanding what you’ve said. You drop your gun and grab his arms, shaking him.

“Yoongi! Do you hear me? You have to run!” There’s a ferocity in your eyes that Yoongi’s never seen in anyone’s gaze but his own. “I know you have a back way out of here. You have to go now. Yoongi? Hey!”

SMACK!

There’s a white-hot sting on his cheek.

“Fuck, sweetheart!” He rubs away the pain left behind by your slap.

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. The door has stopped shaking. “Listen, Jungkook will be in here any second. My team is likely already setting up a barricade and surrounding the place. You have to get to the water. Grab Da-som, start running, and never look back.”

Da-som. Son of a bitch, he can’t lose her. The weight of everything he stands to lose finally comes crashing down. “Fuck, what have I done?”

There’s a shout from the hallway, a berserker cry, and Yoongi realizes Jimin must have rallied for one last attack. Quickly, you take Yoongi’s hands, guiding him to stand again, and then lead him to the far corner of the master bedroom, where you push aside a bookshelf to reveal a darkened passageway, hidden from the outside. You really did know everything.

Or at least, now you do.

The screaming sirens have stopped. Yoongi can hear voices out on the lawn.

“I know you said you’re the one calling the shots, but you need to listen to me now. I’ll take care of everything else. But you - you can’t ever resurface, Yoongi. This is a one-time deal. Take Da-som and disappear. Please,” you whisper, clutching his hands. “Please, do this. If not for Da-som, if not for you - do it for me.”

Even with his impending doom hovering just on the other side of the bedroom door, Yoongi can’t stop the way he feels. Of course he’ll run.

Anything for you.

Footsteps begin to echo throughout the house. Yoongi pulls you into his arms, embracing you one last time as his lips crash onto yours.

And then he runs.

Epilogue

You open the door to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and flop onto the couch. Another fucking long day. The planning for your latest mission is completely draining your energy. For not the first time in recent weeks, you wonder if you should listen to Jungkook’s advice and put in for that time off request. You could definitely use the break.

Unconsciously, your fingers rub at the scar on your cheek. It hasn’t hurt for years, but in the last few weeks, it’s been itching like crazy. Jungkook always jokes that he can tell that it’s going to rain whenever his bullet wound aches. You wonder what the scar is trying to tell you.

Eventually, you drag yourself off the couch and shuffle down the hallway towards the bathroom, dying for a shower. But then you hear a soft sound coming from the door behind you, like something’s sliding along the floor, and you freeze.

There’s an envelope laying in the entryway. Instinctively, you place a hand on the holster of your gun as you peer through the peephole. No one there. No one in the hallway, either, when you open your door.

The envelope has your first name on it, nothing else. With careful fingers, you tear it open, and read the scrap of paper inside:

35.9285° N, 128.5774° E

Coordinates. To what location?

You flip it over:

I’ll be waiting.

You sink onto the couch, staring so intently at the words that you’re surprised the paper doesn’t burst into flames from the intensity of your gaze.

It’s been five years with no word on Yoongi’s whereabouts. Once Jungkook finally knocked out Jimin and shot the door open, he’d found you lying on the floor, pretending to be unconscious. Yoongi had given up and fled the scene. The Bureau believed your story, likely helped by the fact that Yoongi had left behind his safe and all the secrets it contained. His empire crumbled.

Even though Yoongi’d evaded your capture, you were hailed as the hero of the day and moved on to the next case. And the next, and the next. Days turned into months turned into years.

Once the mission was over, you never brought it up again. Occasionally, Jungkook or Seokjin would try to get you to talk. But you simply told them that you had nothing to say. The case was closed.

(To say nothing of your heart.)

And yet… it wasn’t entirely true. If you’d chosen to talk to your friends, you might have told them that you still found yourself thinking about it from time to time. About Yoongi. And where he was. That sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d scour countless resources, searching for him. Yet no matter how much you looked, you never found a single sign.

Until, maybe, now. You glance at the paper, and it dawns on you what it really is.

A key.

…

You rise to your feet.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

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mrgriffiths · 6 months

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⚠️𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒑 𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒅⚠️

And with that, the first weekend of 2024 is here!

Thomas Ian Griffith as Cash in Black Friday (The kidnapping) circa 2007

It's been a while since I posted Cash and after those wonderful pieces of writing that I've seen, I felt inspired to make this edit.

Find me on X (Twitter) and Instagram!

#thomas ian griffith #tig #tgif #tgifvibes #cash #black friday 2007 #the kidnapping #2007 #throwback #good cop gone bad #what's he doing on his knees like that?!#salt and pepper hair for the win #I'm about to re-read all of those cash x reader fics right about now!!!#find me on X (Twitter) and Instagram!

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ppawmkinz · 11 months

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I made a Character ai bot on him and now I'm gonna be Inappropriate with him!

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robinsdearest · 2 years

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Three Steps Back (Part 2)

Jason Todd x Reader | Dick Grayson x Reader

Part 1

It had been six weeks since the alley incident. Six weeks since Jason returned to your world. He had reappeared in your memory where you were still lost from his. Your encounter had essentially ruined most of Jason’s progress. More than just a few steps back.

He lost his older brother: Dick declined Jason’s calls, he refused to join the rest of the family in stakeouts or takedowns, and he has not been seen at Wayne Manor since. Jason wasn’t positive Dick was avoiding him specifically until the devil spawn approached him after a night on patrol. Damian said Dick wanted space, but Jason didn’t think he had meant the whole damn galaxy. He just wanted answers. He wanted to speak to someone that could provide information, but he refused to speak to you.

You had flooded his thoughts after that fateful night. His dreams were filled with the photos from his phone, now turned to moving pictures- they felt like out of body experiences, Jason now watching you and circus boy in his place. A third wheel, unwanted and forgotten. Is that how you had felt?

Maybe this was for the best. After all, Jason seemed to remember everything else. Or so he thought.

Jason tried to go back to the small basics to see if you truly were the only missing piece. He walked his old neighborhood to find the alley where he first took the Batmobile wheels. He instantly knew the route to his favorite cheeseburger diner. He followed the path that led to Dick’s old apartment- the fire escape still creaked on the third step. Jason even borrowed Tim’s bicycle to make sure he at least remembered the simple mechanics. It took him a whole week to go through different parts of memory lane.

Jason’s head hit the pillow back at his apartment. It’s been an exhausting time- he hasn’t taken any mercenary jobs since meeting you again. It was early in the morning after a particular long patrol night. He just needed a clear head. Jason’s memory held true for even the smallest things. But you were no small thing. His mind crawls to the saying from one of those cheesy romance movies Stephanie made him watch with her last week. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.” Yeah, what a piece of shit. Jason feels sick.

The phone ringing brought Jason to his senses. He answers with a grunt.

“I want to talk.”

Jason shoots upward from his position, sitting tall.

“Dick?” Silence must mean compliance. “Sure. Name the time and place.”

The older man speaks softly away from the phone. Jason can’t make out what was said, but assumes it was with a third person for confirmation.

“B’s cave. Tonight.”

And before Jason could ask for more specifics, the line drops. It’s two more steps forward at least.

With no direct scheduled meeting, Jason arrives to the cave late in the evening. Nerves ultimately kept him home, even if the vigilante convinced himself otherwise. Tim and Dick are standing by the weapons vault, Dick smiling at something Tim had said to him. The smile fades quickly when he hears Jason.

“What’s this “oui” bit, French man?” Jason attempts his own joke to ease the tension. “I thought you said it was just you.”

To Jason’s delight, Tim snickers in response. Dick’s frown tightens. There’s a vein on his neck that could pop at any moment.

“Timmy’s here for mediation.” Dick nods in the aforementioned kid’s direction. “I don’t have much to say to you in all actuality.”

It’s Jason’s turn for a vein to pop. “Then why the hell did you call me all the way out to the manor? I’ve got cases to follow.” Lies to cover his own turmoil.

Dick puffs air through his nose. He can probably see through the lies. “Whatever.” Dick finally turns to face Jason, scowling at his brother. Jason gulps, not expecting the intensity of his gaze. “I want you to know that nothing you say will change their mind. They’ve had a lot of time to think, and I’ve been chosen.” The last word has more venom than anyone would care to admit. It’s said with malice: a choice was made. The ferocity of his voice surprises even Dick. He swears under his breath, putting a hand on the back of his neck. He apologizes quietly.

“They just want to clear the air. Get closure.” Jason finally registers that circus boy is speaking about you. A twinge of pain has Jason desperately searching for words, but all he can do is nod.

Dick takes Jason’s response in stride, gliding right past him. From somewhere behind him, Jason can hear Dick lower his voice. Tim turns to follow Dick, motioning Jason to follow. As Jason turns, his breath is stolen from his lungs.

You’re sitting at one of the data tables. Your leather jacket is thrown across the back of your chair, and your cheeks are tinted pink- from crying, Jason can finally tell. You’re even more breathtaking than the night he first saw you. He sits in the chair next to you, there is still a safe distance between your bodies. Jason wants to give you the room to run if you wanted, but he can’t help but need to be close. He wants nothing more than to remember everything. Remember you.

Dick and Tim both leave the cave for now. Dick is calm as he gives you one last glance before the door shuts; the exes are left alone for the first time.

You’re refusing to look at him. He cranes his neck to meet your lowered eyes and whispers your name, an easy tenderness rolling off his tongue.

“It really is you.” Your lip begins to tremble. Jason doesn’t initially understand the feeling in his rib cage. “I was in denial for so long.” Your hands shake with your voice. “I mourned you.” A tear finally falls, and Jason can’t breathe. Guilt. Inconsolable guilt.

“If it’s any consolation, it’s not exactly what I wanted.” Jason mentally kicks himself. This is not a good time for humor to fill the void of uneasiness. You scoff, causing Jason to flinch.

“No. Nobody wanted it.” Your tears are flowing faster now. Jason can’t help but feel empathetic. He doesn’t know you, but he feels for you. He hasn’t felt anything for a long time.

You’re still refusing to look at him directly. You use your T-shirt sleeve to wipe your nose. Adorable, but gross. His eyes refuse to leave your face, searching for anything to help him remember more.

“You were itchy.” Your sudden confession causes Jason to choke on his spit. He coughs a few times.

He speaks when he finds his tongue. “Hold on. Itchy?”

Your teary laugh bubbles through him- he can’t help but smile.

“People say everyone has an itch they can never scratch just right.” You look up at Jason through wet eyelashes. A deep breath in. “You and me.” A deep breath out. “We scratched all our itches. We joked about it all the time actually. How we thought we were perfect for each other. Everything you did for me was just so perfect, even when we were that young. We melded. We scratched each other’s itches, made everything feel just right. Itchy.”

The way the last word rolls off your tongue burns Jason’s heart. It was said with such familiarity, so many memories embedded in just a single word, an unfleeting feeling.

“Do you really not remember anything about me?” Your eyes are shining, boring a hole through Jason’s heart. He can’t lie to you.

“I see glimpses.” You nod, letting him continue. “Dreams of possible memories. I don’t know if they’re real.” You wipe your nose again. He stumbles on his next words. “I wa- I want.” Breathe, for crying out loud. “I want them to be real.” A confession of his own that Jason didn’t know he needed to say. He mindlessly thinks he’s going crazy.

You were left with everything when Jason was killed. Jason was left with nothing. You were forgotten from Jason’s memory and from his heart. Jason continued to leave scratches in your life, now turned to painful scars.

Your thumbs are kneading into your palm. A nervous tick that has Jason’s own hand flexing in response. The action reaches a part of Jason’s mind he didn’t know existed. Is this remembering? It almost surprises him how badly he wants to hold your hand.

Almost.

Jason reaches forward, attempting to close the space between the digits. Your mouth drops only slightly as you watch his hand inch towards yours.

A voice stops Jason’s movements, only a few centimeters away.

Dammit.

“5 minutes are up.” Tim was always going to keep up his end of the deal with Dick. Damn replacement.

Jason throws a look at his younger brother that the evil genius seems to ignore. Tim shuffles awkwardly on both feet as he watches you gather your things. You reach down to grab Jason’s hand. Yours seem much different than his: small, gentle, soft. But it fits so perfectly in his own. Itchy. The breath in his throat catches when you squeeze his fingers.

“Take care of yourself, Jay.”

As you walk away, the smell of your perfume trickles around Jason’s nose. Almost comically beckoning him with a cartoon finger to follow you. The nickname sticks to his ears, making them ring. Maybe Jason really is going crazy.

Tim nods in your direction after you place a hand on his shoulder with a simple thanks. The two men watch you exit the cave, eventually out of sight but never out of mind.

Tim whistles a small tune after a beat of silence.

“Dick suggests you forget about it. Everything. The photos. Everything about the two of them, the two of you. Move on; move forward.”

Jason knocks the table a few times in contemplation, giving an apathetic hum. If he is going crazy, Jason will need help.

“And what do you suggest, Timmers?”

Jason rolls his eyes when he’s met with silence. Tim whistles a long, low trill, almost as if he’s giving himself time to think. Jason dares to look towards him, yet the younger man is doing nothing but grinning ear to ear.

“You’ve never been too keen on following direct orders.”

#jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #dick grayson x reader #red hood fanfic #dc fanfic #robinsdearest #dick grayson #tim is good cop bad cop #haha get it oui like we #do we want a part three to see who is chosen officially #itchy

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mistkissingyou · 5 months

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✎ Welcome !!

This is a fic blog where I'll write what you request! Since I'm new here, I'll be allowing requests now. If you have an idea/prompt — shoot! This post also includes characters I write for !!

For an introduction, my name's Asa but I also go by Vic! My pronouns are She/They and I'm a minor..!!

· What I can write!

- Violent themes (injury, fights, etc)

- Suggestiveness

- x reader (fem only for now)

- Many romance tropes

- Multiple (character x reader x character)

· What I will not write

- Smut

- Anything fetish-y

- Just things that aren't appealing to me

Characters I'll write for!

Most of the characters I'll write for are mostly Erik Knudsen's characters, but there's a few others I could do!

★ Erik Knudsen

- Daniel Matthews (Saw II)

- Jonathan Ward (Bon Cop, Bad Cop)

- Lefty (Youth in Revolt)

- Robbie Mercer (Scream 4)

- Alec Sadler (Continuum)

★ Richard Harmon

- Julian Randol (Continuum)

- John Murphy (The 100) ← (drabbles only!!)

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mggsv · 1 year

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Just thinking about Lawyer Hotch and Cop reader who went to law school together and absolutely hated each other for no reason and had the worst sexual tension. Like every elevator ride was them trying their best to not jump on the other. even being close was enough to set off the fire alarms. And as they grew older they still saw each other and worked with one another on occasion but man did they still absolutely hate each other. Serious Hotch with playful reader who always threatened him when they could.

And then just one day there’s this case and reader gets hurt and it crushes Hotch- i mean absolutely breaks his heart. They grow closer although neither of them would admit it. So..so close. And then there’s just one night Hotch shows up at reader’s house unannounced and just kisses them with no warnings. But it throws resder off that they just push him away- and as Hotch starts to apologize reader’s just looking at him stupid while they start to take off their clothes and ultimately shoved him on the couch.

#aaron hotch #this idea has been bugging me so bad yall #hotch #this idea came to me in a dream #they go at it though #fr #criminal minds #lawyer hotch #aaron hotch x reader #gender noncomformity #gender neutral imagine #aaron hotchner #hotchner #aaron #cop #law #drabble #aaron hotch smut

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fairy-angel222 · 5 months

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Everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officers

—in which getting caught stealing with your boyfriend leads to three handsome officers fucking you down at the station.

pairing: officers! gojo s, choso k, nanami k. x fem! reader

cw: smut, face fucking, hair pulling, filming, praise, size difference, belly bulge, fingering.. etc

Your heart raced as you and Toji were stopped in your tracks by a cop car. Attempting to turn around only to be stopped by another swerving in front of you. “Shit. T-Toji? What do we do?”

Watching as a tall, broad officer emerged from the vehicle’s front seat, gulping hard when the blond one’s dark eyes met yours. His face stonic as he stood with his hands in his pockets, letting out a small breath when he looked you up and down.

“Toji?” Turning your head to see your boyfriend long gone, having jumped hurriedly over the hood of the car before sprinting away with the stolen money. You whimpered to yourself, backing up when he began to stalk towards you. Yelping as your back hit a broad chest, arms situating themselves around your waist to steady you. “Careful sweetheart.”

Glancing up through your lashes to see a white haired man looking down at you with a smirk, his eyebrow raised in surprise. “Now what’s a pretty little thing like you stealing for?” he hummed.

And you only looked at your feet after noticing a black haired officer speaking into his walkie talkie about a thief on the loose. Giving a detailed description of your boyfriend. The hold on your waist tightened, and you were flipped around to look up at.. a black blindfold? An idea running through your head to knee him and make a run for it.

“Don’t even think about it. I can still see you.” watching as your eyes welled with tears, your hands gripping at the hem if your shirt. “P-please don’t arrest me. I promise i’ll never do it again.” you pleaded innocently.

The man scoffed, his hand reaching up for your face, his slender fingers digging into your cheeks, “Then tell me, what’re you doing stealing huh?”

“Gojo that’s enough.” A deep voice demanded. Gojo letting go of you with the roll of his eyes. Your body immediately putting some distance between the two of you. Only to be met with the sight of the same blond officer finally making his move. His face void of emotion as his muscles bulged through his shirt. The veins on his hand extra visible when he gripped something on his belt.

Your eyes widened when he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, tilting his head down at you with his tone serious. “You can either cooperate, or i arrest you and bring you down to the station. Your pick.”

The third officer walked up to your shivering form before you could speak. Your body being sandwiched between the two towering men.

“Nanami sir, the male that was with her has been arrested. Although he was able to knock down three of our m-“ He stuttered when he caught sight of you, your glassy eyes practically begging him to tell his friends to let you go. “Uhm- our men sir.” He finished with the clear of his throat.

“Thanks Kamo.” Nanami nodded, looking back to you with a hard stare. “Look, kid. I don’t have all day. We already have your little boyfriend and we can easily take you.”

“Not a kid..” you mumbled. Rough hands making their way to your chin, “You’re really taking us for fools aren’t ya? Take her down to the station.” Nanami commanded, throwing the handcuffs to Choso before he was walking away, getting into the vehicle and driving off.

“Should have just been a good girl and answered me.” Gojo laughed, pushing you over to Choso who did as he was taught, pressing you onto the side of the police vehicle before cuffing your first wrist. Your body twisting and turning making him groan, feeling his dick growing hard in his pants.

“W-wait! I’m sorry! I promise i’m a good girl— not a bad guy. Just please don’t arrest me.” you begged, hearing the click of the cuffs on your second wrist before you were being pushed into the back seat. Gojo looking at you through the rearview mirror. “It’s a bit too late for that don’t you think?” Allowing Choso to sit in the vehicle before speeding off. Some officer.

The whole ride was filled with your tiny sniffles as you asked to be let go in all different ways. Each one being met by a stern no which had you letting out a whine.

“You do a whole lotta talking for my liking.” Gojo sighed, “Makes me wanna fill your mouth with my cock to shut you up.” Smirking when that made you stop with panicked eyes.

When you arrived at the station. You were pulled through a hallway and past a room where you saw Toji. Anger on his face as he attempted to get up, scowling at the snickering officer when he was stopped by two pairs of handcuffs.

You were brought into another room, seeing Nanami already sitting there going through your file, his head turning to you, Gojo and Choso when he heard the slam of the door. “She’s still quiet i see.”

“She actually started talking, told her i’d make her suck my dick if she didn’t stop.” Gojo grinned, Nanami shaking his head as you were brought to sit in front of him. Gojo at your side and Choso leaned against the door.

“So.” The man started, clasping his hands on the desk with a sigh. “I see this isn’t your first time being arrested. Mind telling me why?”

You looked down at the glass top with a shrug, “i don’t know.”

Nanami motioned to Choso and Gojo with a nod. Choso closing the blinds of the stretch of glass connecting the room to the hallway. While Gojo pulled you up effortlessly, taking your place on the chair with you in his lap.

“Let’s try this again, mind telling me why?” You chewed at your lip, ignoring Gojo’s hot breath on your neck. “I did drugs, i drove while drunk when i was 15, i’ve shoplifted many times.” You listed shyly, watching as Nanami nodded along to your words.

“Nnh- ahh” you mewled when two fingers squeezed at your clit through your skirt, your thighs clenching as you shifted on the man’s lap. “God, I could do this all day.” Gojo whispered.

Nanami closed your file and slid it to the side, standing up and making his way in front of you. Stroking his thumb on your lip, “You’re really making things worse for yourself. Want to know what these records show?” He started, your eyes fixated on his body as he unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt.

“They show that you’ve never done anything wrong.” His thumb slipping past your lips, “Show that you’re just a naive soul who covered for her friends and boyfriend on multiple occasions.” Looking up at his eyes through your lashes. “Show that you’re a good girl who trusts too easily.” He finished, watching you whimper underneath Gojo’s touch on your clit as you sucked lightly at his thumb. Your eyes closing with a hum.

“Do you think you’re a good girl baby?”

You nodded, “A very good girl, officer.” you muffled out past his finger, the eye contact never breaking until Gojo spoke. “I think she deserves an apology, doesn’t she?”

Nanami hummed a small yes, removing his finger from your lips and replacing it with his mouth instead. Kissing you softly as his hand reached up to wrap around your neck. Keeping your head steady as you moaned into him, tongues lewdy curling around each other.

Gojo grinned widely. “The fun’s finally getting started.” His eyes falling on Choso who stood red faced in the corner, his dick noticeably hard in his pants as Gojo ushered him over. “Kamo come here.”

Your mind felt fuzzy, wetness pooling between your legs as the large hand around your neck tightened at the sides. Letting out another moan when Gojo’s hand slipped under your skirt, running his fingers along your puffy folds through your panties.

“She’s soaked already.” he announced, chuckling when you mewled at the announcement, your face beginning to heat up.

“And don’t worry that pretty little head about that boyfriend of yours. You’re not the only one he’s been-“

“Gojo..” Nanami warned, his lips still moving against yours. Your heart tightened, eyes threatening to well up with tears as your suspicions were confirmed. Choso’s hand stroked your hair, “Don’t worry about that kay? Just focus on us.”

Gojo’s fingers began rubbing small circles on your clit, tearing your panties off of you when it began getting in his way. Nanami pulled away from your lips with a small smirk, sinking down to his knees in front of you.

Placing your legs onto his shoulders before bringing his face to your dripping cunt. “Make as much noise as you’s like. No one can hear us.”

His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe up your slit. A soft moan escaped your lips when he licked another. “Tastes like fucking heaven.” Gradually increasing his pace until he was lapping at your juices, his skilled tongue feasting on your wetness while Gojo kept up his pace in your swollen clit.

Your head fell back with a mewl, bringing your hands to the blond’s hair but stopped by the metal around your skin. You whimpered, “C-cuffs.”

Gojo groaned into your neck, grinding his clothed cock up into your ass. “Nah, like you better with them on.”

You moaned, back arching against Gojo when Nanami inserted two of his thick fingers into you. Curling them in and out directly onto your spot, your mouth hanging open in a string of cries when he began fucking them into your tightness.

Your noises were cut short by an angry red tip tapping your lips, Choso lightly taking hold of your head to help you sit up. His cock nestled between your parted lips waiting for you to take him in.

“Atta boy.” Gojo mused, watching as Choso pushed his cock further past your lips, a soft gag leaving your throat as he allowed you to adjust to his length. Only half of his cock being able to fit in your snug mouth. Choso moaned, your tongue swirling around his pre cum tip as you suckled on the mushroom head. Beginning to bob your head up and down without the use of your hands to keep you steady, your tongue licking along his vein each time you came back up.

A mewl sounded at the back of your tongue, the noise sending vibrations through Choso’s cock.

Your back arched as a coil built up in your stomach, your trembling legs being held apart by strong hands as your toes curled. Your hips jerking back and forth on Gojo’s lap as the pads of Nanami’s fingers pressed into your g spot. Him holding them in position by simply moving his fingertips on and off.

You cried out loudly around the cock in your mouth, drool running past your swollen lips and down your chin, Gojo leaning to lick it off your skin. “Nnhmf—“ you muffled, your eyes closing as you neared the edge. “ ‘mf closhe.”

The three men watched as your breathing sped up, unable to focus when Choso grabbed hold of your hair and manually fucked his cock down your throat. Careful enough to not hurt you.

You whimpered once more with a choked cry, your body spasming uncontrollably as you squirted onto the blond’s chin. Him groaning into you as he lapped it all up, locking his grip on your thighs when you tried to close your legs around his head.

“Oh hoho, look at her.” Gojo teased, “Can’t stop squirming, think we’re overstiming her. Are we, sweet thing?”

You nodded tearfully, Gojo kissing and biting at your neck while you sucked Choso off. His eyes met Nanami’s, both the men releasing you at the same time making you let out a shaky breath.

“We’re not done with you yet.”

Choso moaned as he neared his release, his abs tensing under his shirt and his cock twitching on your tongue. His head falling back with a loud groan before he was pulling out, fisting his cock roughly then cumming all over your pretty face. The sticky substance falling onto your now exposed chest thanks to Gojo.

Choso’s body quivered lightly as he finished spilling, his face quickly turning red again when he straightened his head to find both his colleagues smirking at him.

Gojo grinned, “Great, my turn.” standing up with you against him, kicking back the chair before bending you over, ready to line his aching cock up with your sopping pussy.

You whimpered when he roughly spread your legs with his knee, your hands still cuffed securely behind your back as your face met cold glass.

Gojo cursed as he eased himself into you. “So fucking tight, shit.” he groaned, fucking sloppily into your pussy with no mercy. His painfully hard cock begging for a release ever since he sat you on his lap.

Gojo’s hand reached up in your hair, pulling you up against him as he slammed into you. Your back arching against his chest with a loud mewl. Gojo watched as your ass bounced with each hit of his hips, your head thrown back onto his chest as you filled the room with high pitched moans.

Your pussy clenched when he brought his hand to your tits, fumbling and groping at the soft flesh before twisting your nipples between your fingers. Pulling out a cry from you at the sensation. Gojo’s pace never slowed its abuse to your tightness. Bullying his cock deeper inside you with a string of grunts.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your loud cries mixed with Gojo’s grunts as he tugged at both your nipples and your hair. You could feel his tip grazing into your walls with each of his harsh thrusts onto your ass.

Your breaths getting heavy as you neared yet another orgasm. “Nn—nnhg, f-fuckk.”

“Language.”

You trembled with a scream of pleasure, clenching down on the white haired man’s cock as he breathed into your neck with deep throaty moans.

You let out whimper after whimper, your legs feeling like jelly as your knees buckled. “Hahhh— nng, close. Ah- ‘m close.” feeling the pressure on your gummy spot intensifying greatly. “A-ahh— nnh, cumming,” you mewled, lips parted in whiny noises as you came.

Gojo groaned, “Shit- clenching down so hard on me. Gonna break my fucking cock sweetheart.” his thrusts lacking any rhythm as he too neared his orgasm. “Come on, fuck, give it to me.” he rasped.

Your eyes rolling back as you gripped onto his shirt through your handcuffs. Your short moans matching his thrusts as your pussy gushed messily around him.

“That’s it.” he dragged out, slowing his thrusts until he was pulling out of your drenched cunt. Pushing you down onto your knees by your shoulders, “open.” Stroking his cock lightly when you obeyed and spilling onto your awaiting tongue while watching you swallow. “Good girl.” as he steadied his breathing. “She’s all yours,” he said to Nanami.

Your eyes moving behind the tall man to find Nanami sat on a chair with his cock in hand stroking to the sight. And Choso leaned onto the gray walls with his shirt in between his teeth as he did the same as Nanami.

“Come here.” Nanami husked. And you stood on shaky legs to waddle over to him. Your eyes widening at his massive cock, its girth the size of your wrist and its length the same as your forearm. Noticing your hesitation, Nanami chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

His hands found their way onto your hips as he guided you over his lap. A scared whimper falling past your lips when he lined you up with his rock hardness.

“Look at me. You can take it okay? Just be a good girl and relax.”

You sucked in a deep breath and nodded, wincing loudly as he sunk you down onto his cock. Your pussy aching at the stretch to let him in. “Ahh-“ you cried, small tears escaping your eyes as he bottomed you down onto him. Feeling his tip poking against the skin of your stomach.

“Holy shit.” Gojo whistled, “She’s fucking bulging.”

You mewled, looking down to see the outline of Nanami’s tip in your belly. The large man simply glaring at his colleague who only smirked.

Large hands held onto your ass, whispering soothing praises into your ear as he helped you grind up and down with the rocking of your hips. You began moaning as the pain slowly subsided. Pleasure filling your veins as Nanami made you ride him faster bit by bit. Feeling the veins of his cock grazing your sensitive walls with each movement.

You let out a string of loud cries, your hips arching when Nanami landed a slap to your skin. “You’re a real good girl, you know that? Obeying the men of the law. You’re a perfect one.” He groaned.

Gojo sat on the table behind you, his camera zoomed into the stretch of your pussy from the back. Nanami unknowingly spreading your cheeks to give off an even better view.

Choso’s cock prodded at your lips, his precum smearing onto your lips.

“Kamo. Don’t wanna save that for her pussy?” Gojo questioned, Choso shaking his head no with a desperate moan. “Uh uh, love her mouth too much.” Your lips parting to suck him into your throat with a hum.

Choso groaned, thrusting lightly into your mouth, his length throbbing when your tongue suckled at his tip. Nanami quickened your pace of rutting on his cock. Your noises drowned out by the youngest officer’s cock.

Your pussy clenched impossibly tighter. Creamy white covering his cock from top to bottom. Your pussy creaming his length with your clit being stimulated by its rubbing on the region near his base.

Gojo made sure to capture it all. Choso fucking into your throat and you milking Nanami’s cock. With mic picking up Choso’s moans and Nanami’s deep grunts.

Your body trembled, body filled with heat as you came undone. Whimpers bubbling in your throat and your eyes rolling back. The sound of your cuffs shaking entering your ears when your fists gripped literal air.

“Come on.” Nanami groaned, “Cum for us.”

You let out a silent breathy cry, your pussy spraying its cream filled liquid onto the man’s thighs and pants.

Choso followed not too long after you, finding it in him to force you to take all of him into your mouth with a gag before pumping his cum straight down your throat. Some of his cum spilling messily at the sides of your lips when he removed himself from the warmth.

Nanami rolled you onto him a few more times, his cock twitching within the depths of your cunt before effortlessly lifting you off of him and settling you closer to his knees. Giving his large cock a wrist circling stroke before his cock was releasing spurts of cum into the air and onto your tits and stomach with a dragged out groan.

The three of you panted, Gojo setting down his phone after saving the video to his eyes only then walking over to you with a key to remove your handcuffs. You fell forward as your body went limp, your palms feeling Nanami’s hard chest under his work shirt as you stabilized yourself.

The white haired man pressed a short kiss to your head. “Did so well.”

After helping you get cleaned up, the trio walked you out of the room. A slight limp in your step as you were brought into the main room. There you spotted Toji, who practically charged towards you. Slapping Choso’s hand off your waist and pulling you into his side. “Don’t touch my girl.”

Choso only walked away before giving you a look. And you sucked in a deep breath before you spoke, “Toji-“

“Before you say what you have to say baby, they charged us for robbery.” Kissing you softly on the same spot Gojo did. “Got any money to get us out of this.”

Just as you were about to speak, a voice echoed through the room. “Y/n L/n? You’re free to go.”

You gave Toji a tight lipped smile while scratching at your arm. “Sorry Toji.. i don’t have any. And since i didn’t do anything wrong i don’t see why i should be kept either.”

Toji looked at you in disbelief. A smirk eventually gracing his face. “Didn’t think you had that in ya.” Watching as you were escorted out by a blond officer who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He would have to use his one call on one of his recent flings to pay the fine.

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clandestineloki · 11 months

Text

miguel o'hara x shy crybaby housewife!reader

cw: non-graphic mentions of violence, suggestive bit at the end lmk if u want an nsfw of this!!

ok but imagine shy lil missus o'hara who's a stay at home wife while miguel goes off to either alchemax or to fight some bad guys

and miguel comes home stressed all the time but just a touch of her hand on his shoulder grounds him after all that fighting

and miguel is tired but happy, grateful for his little love taking such good care of him :)) giving you a forehead kiss before he goes off to the bathroom, settling in the perfectly warm bath prepared for him before indulging in his little wife's amazing cooking

but one night when he comes home a little bit more tense than usual

she's very tense

she's heard him yelling at his subordinates over the phone and yelling at dumb-ass cops who get in the way of him stopping some thief

and while miguel has always been soft and kind and gentle with her, she's scared that she'll accidentally do something wrong :((

so miguel walks past her, exhausted, and almost smiles at the smell of dinner

no forehead kiss for her :(( poor baby

sitting at the dining table head in his hands as he mumbles about not getting the chance to grab a snack, let alone a break in spanish

and she knows he's hungry, but she knows his whole body will be aching if he doesn't take a bath to regulate his body temperature

but poor baby doesn't know how to say it without him possibly snapping at her :((

she's standing on the other side of the table nervously fidgeting with the dish towel and finding the right words to say

"y-you... you gotta t-take a bath f-first..."

miguel sighs into his hands. "i know, but im really hungry, cariño..."

"b-but... if you don't... you'll be s-sore..."

he looks up, brows furrowing. "what?"

he was genuinely confused why you seemed so scared of him, but his voice came out a bit more bluntly than he meant it to.

your eyes widen and you look down. "n-nothing," you mumble, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "sorry."

"hey, hey, baby..." miguel stands up, walking over to you and pulling you into his arms. "what's wrong? did i say something?"

"no..." you sniffle, "jus thought i made you mad..."

"no, no, no, i'm not mad," he kisses all over u: your teary eyes, your wobbling lips, your forehead, the tip of ur nose

miguel kisses you deeply and then hugs you close to him. "im not mad, i promise. i'm just so so tired and hungry and the food smelled so good i'm gonna die if i don't get to taste it," he whispers, laughing when you giggle at his declaration.

"the bath can wait," he caresses your cheek with his hand.

"b-but you're gonna get cramps tomorrow if-"

he cuts you off with a big smooch to your face. "it doesn't matter. im staying home tomorrow."

"wh-what?!" you look up at him as he sits down, pulling you into his lap. "but you have work- and- and you're spiderman- and-"

he shakes his head, running his fingers through your hair.

"i'm your husband first, and all that other shit second."

miguel sighs, pulling you closer.

"i know i haven't been taking care of you the way i should be."

before you can interject about how he's doing so much already, he presses a finger against your lips.

"ssh. and alchemax and the cops don't really give a shit about me, can probably last every other day without me there. they'd probably have a field day without this jackass there," he chuckles. "but you, baby, i need to return the favor- ah, ah! let me finish, gatita- return the favor for keeping this place a safe space for me."

a kiss here, a kiss there. "entiendes?"

you nod, hugging him. "just glad you're home," you mumble, nuzzling into his neck.

he spends the rest of that hour enjoying the food you made for him while also feeding you and rattling all about the thugs he stopped that day.

then he pulls you into the bath with him, despite your protests, and laughs as he splashes you with the soapy water, making you squeal and threaten to spray him with the shower nozzle

then the two of you dry up and snuggle in bed, not bothering to put on any clothes. miguel smiles down at you and you smile up at him, before he rolls you on your back and crawls over you to make the sweetest yet roughest love to show you just how thankful he is for having a sweet lil thing like u to come home to <3

(part 2 is here~)

#astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #soft dom miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fluff

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melloween-candie · 10 months

Text

Good Cop/Bad Cop [P.P & F]

Poly Yandere- Bad Cop Peter Pan/Good Cop Felix x Reader Headcanon

Requested // Request Rules

"I think poly yanderes Peter and Felix would have a sort of bad cop/good cop dynamic where they’re working together but Felix sort of plays himself as a ‘nicer’ one and convinces you to do what Peter wants whereas Peter is the ‘mean’ one who makes you appreciate Felix and consider what he says"

Submitted by: Anon

A/n - I'm SOOO sorry for having to make you wait that long! 😭 But I hope you like it! 💕

Warning: Cussing, manipulating, punishing

Word count: 499

Once Upon A Time Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

Yandere - Bad Cop // Peter

How he'd get you into doing things

This boy would use force- Flat out.

He doesn't have the patience within himself to deal with a 'bratty' darling.

Would also threaten you and manipulate you.

He'd say stuff like-

"Keep acting like this, and I WILL take away your eating privileges."

Punishments?

Absolutely!

To Peter, discipline is the best way to teach someone.

The punishments would vary depending on the 'crime' you committed.

Example: You denied him too much.

Then you'd probably get whipped until you apologize and do what you're told.

He'd also pretend like he doesn't like it, but we all know that ain't true.

How he benefits Felix

He gives Felix the opportunity to manipulate you, to begin with.

By the way he acts- he makes you appreciate Felix more. Thus making you trust Felix more... which isn't great for you because Felix is extremely loyal to Pan, and not even you can break that.

He trusts Felix's words over yours.

He'd provide Felix with whatever he needed.

Yandere - Good Cop // Felix

How he'd get you into doing things

Honestly, he'd treat you like a kid who doesn't know any better.

If you denied his request for assistance- he'd just let it go.

Like he'd be patient with you for the first few times.

But sh*t has to get done somehow, so he'd manipulate you into thinking that's what he says is actually what you want, so you'd end up doing what he asked in the end.

And when you do end up doing everything he asked- he'd sweet talk you, saying stuff like how good of a job you did.

That way, you'd be more inclined to do it again.

Punishments?

Nope.

Felix is more like the 'sting' after the cut.

What I mean is that after Peter punishes you, he'd be there to 'heal' you.

But he'd be very passive-aggressive about it.

Like when he's patching up your wounds, he'd say stuff like-

"This is why you should have just listened from the beginning, Y/n. It would have made everything easier for all of us." Or like-

"Do you think he wants to do this to you? Don't be silly- he cares about you. In fact, he cares about all of us!"

How he benefits Peter

He's very loyal, so the fact that you trust him more is your literal downfall.

He wouldn't say anything bad about Peter to you, and he wouldn't let anyone else say anything bad about Peter in front of you. Because he doesn't want to destroy the image of Peter, he's trying to create.

He wants you to believe that Peter is a holy saint.

He'd manipulate you into believing that you're the bad one. That Peter MUST punish you BECAUSE you deny his 'righteousness!'

Overall

Peter and Felix wouldn't necessarily like the fact that they love the same person- but they trust one another enough to use their skills together to contain you.

A/n

I'm sure this wasn't exactly what you were picturing when you asked for this, but I hope it was still satisfying to read. :)

#once upon a time #peter pan #felix #once upon a time peter pan #once upon a time felix #ouat felix #ouat peter pan #ouat peter pan x reader #ouat felix x reader #yandere headcanon #once upon a time fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #once upon a time fandom #good cop bad cop #requested

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cyberm4n · 4 months

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alastor and lucifer sharing you

alastor x reader x lucifer headcanons

pt2

cw: 18+, semi explicit smut? dom! alastor, dom! lucifer, alastor basically pitches a hinge relationship

■ alastor and lucifer had known this was a long time coming.

■ between the gifts lucifer makes you and the little friendly affections alastor only gave you, it didn't take long for either of them to realize the predicament.

■ at first, neither want to share, and neither are entertaining the idea of the other having you.

■ however alastor gets an idea as lucifer is arguing he'd be the most likely to please me the most

■ alastor has never been a fan of touch, not that he would deny intimacy with you, but he definitely doesn't prefer it.

■ but standing infront of him is a man who prides himself on treating his partners well, both in and outside of the bedroom.

■ i imagine in this scenario alastor is less concerned about being your partner but more about making sure lucifer can't have you all to himself

■ alastor doesn't like to share, but if it means he gets to have possession of you without the intimacy, he's going to take it.

"maybe there's a simple compromise here after all" alastor says, looking down at the man standing before him, lucifer sighing in frustration.

"oh really? and what would you propose?" he says with snark, not expecting what alastor suggests even a little.

■ it's a simple arrangement, really.

■ lucifer gets to do whatever he wants, gets to have you, but alastor gets to watch and maybe occasionally participate

■ but of course, they have to convince you too.

"i— you guys want to what?" you'd say, they'd both approached you while you were in your room. you sat on the small couch while they sat across from you on the bed.

"darling," alastor would tut, giving you a look "it's a simple question. yes or no" he says, and it's getting harder to ignore the hand lucifer had placed on your thigh, slowly working it's way up.

they'd started out this conversation by explicitly stating if you were uncomfortable at all, everything stops no questions asked.

but they wanted to hear you say yes.

■ i think they'd be like "good cop, bad cop"

■ lucifer, who's been between your thighs for what feels like hours, cooing such sweet praises everytime he coaxed an orgasm out of you.

■ alastor, who's sitting behind you, leaning against the headboard as he cradles your head in his lap. giving condescending comments as you go numb in their arms.

■ they balance each other out and it works pretty well tbh

■ oh, it's going to be a long night.

this was kind of rushed and im not 100% happy with it but i had to stop the brainrot about those two

part two maybe??

#hazbin hotel smut #lucifer smut #alastor smut #lucifer morningstar #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #alastor x reader #headcanon #hazbin hotel

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minisugakoobies · 1 year

Text

Burning Down | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: weapons - guns, switching POVs, angst!, allusions to murder, mentions of blood, references to war, allusions to choking, Yoongi is not a good guy (ymmv)

Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: You're going to finish what you started. But Yoongi won't let you take it all away.

A/N: Everyone thank Yoongi for those recent D-Day concept photos, because they inspired me to write another chapter! I think we're closing in on the end here 👀

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 5 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist 💵 Part 6

The house is dark when you turn into the driveway. Tall trees on either side of the gravel pathway stretch endlessly into the cloudy morning sky, their thick canopies providing the car with cover from the rain that’s just starting to fall.

Jungkook leans pretty heavily against you as you walk him to the door, and your knock is a little clumsy while you struggle to keep your partner on his feet. A light flickers on in the window, and then the door suddenly wrenches open from the inside. A rather handsome man peers down at where you’re slumped under Jungkook’s arm.

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened?”

Seokjin is not an agent. Seokjin is a former combat medic. You’d met years ago on a tour in a foreign land. He’d saved your back and you’d saved his, more than once. The blood you’d shed together had formed an inseparable bond between the two of you that meant more to you than your actual family. Which is why you’re here, in the middle of the night, holding a man who is slowly bleeding out all over his doorstep.

“For fuck’s sake, come in, I just bought that mat.” Seokjin ushers the two of you inside, glancing around. His house is fairly secluded, the copse of trees bordering the property protecting him from prying eyes, but he’s been in enough battles to know that you can never be too cautious.

He leads you and Jungkook into his living room, ordering you to help your partner onto the couch. He disappears for a moment and returns with a first aid kit - not the kind you’d find at your local pharmacy but one meant for the battlefield. You don’t ask why he has one so readily available. You know what it’s like to be haunted by war; always prepared for the day those ghosts might return.

You also don’t ask why he happens to have a small freezer in his basement where he keeps bags of blood. After he’d retired from the armed forces, Seokjin had gone into private practice. You have no idea just how “private” that means, what type of clientele he might be stitching up, accepting payment under the table instead of involving insurance. Or cops. It might be your place to ask, considering you’re a federal agent, but right now you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth - not when Seokjin’s busy saving Jungkook’s life.

Afterward, as Jungkook sleeps, blood slowly being transfused back into his strong body, Seokjin makes you some tea and he sits in the kitchen as you stand and sip, staring out the window at the rain.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks gently, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin. You haven’t even apologized for waking him so early.

“No,” you reply honestly, but then you tell him, as much as you can without compromising your mission. As if it hadn’t already gone to hell anyway. You talk and talk, and soon it’s not the details of the job you’re describing, soon it’s how things between you and Yoongi started, how they progressed, how they ended - in bullets and blood.

Seokjin is quiet once you run out of words. He drums his long fingers on his placemat, watching the spoon resting there as it bounces from the rhythm. “Well, to be honest, that’s not the worst break-up you’ve ever had,” he drawls after a few seconds.

“Fuck off,” you snap, but your lips twitch of their own accord. He’s not wrong. “It wasn’t a real relationship. It was all part of the plan.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin levels you with a sober look. “Then why are you here, wearing a groove into my kitchen floor with your pacing, while your partner drains my last bag of O neg? Was that part of the plan, too?” When you don’t respond, he plows on. “Because it seems to me that you went a little too deep this time. Got a little too entangled. Would you say that’s accurate?”

“Sir, yes sir,” you chirp sarcastically, saluting him with your middle finger. Seokjin’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, and for one brief second, you’re back in the field, joking with your friend, and not sitting in his house panicking while your mission goes up in flames. But then you hear Jungkook stirring in the other room, and Seokjin’s laughter fades as he rises to check on his patient.

Seokjin, as always, is right. You’d gone too deep this time. Let yourself believe the lie. As much as you didn’t want to admit that you could be compromised, you knew the truth. You’d fallen for Yoongi, and now you had to clean up the mess you’d made, before anyone else got hurt.

Even if it meant breaking your own heart.

Seokjin wanders back into the kitchen. “The transfusion is almost complete, but he’s gonna need to rest for a while longer.”

“Can he - “

“He can stay here, that’s fine.” Seokjin looks so tired. You wonder how you must look. Probably about half dead. “But what are you going to do now? Call for backup?”

You shake your head and reach into your satchel, pulling out the box from Yoongi’s safe. Inside, as you’d expected, lies a key.

“No. I’m gonna finish what I’ve started.” Jimin’s face flashes through your mind and your vision goes red. And then Yoongi’s, and your heart pangs, even as you make your vow. “I’m gonna bring him down.”

Yoongi hates this.

He hates hiding. His safe house isn’t nearly as luxurious as his other house or the vacation home he’d just bought on the bay. Most of the rooms here are nearly empty, save for a random couch or table. Except for the one room that is fully stocked with guns and ammunition, along with a small safe stashed with emergency cash. But beyond that, the house is bare. It’s not meant to be a long-term residence, he knows, but he hates it anyway.

He also hates not having his daughter with him. He’d called Da-som’s friend’s mother at dawn and told her that he had to go out of town for work suddenly and asked if she could look after her for a few days. Not having her by his side fills him with anxious energy, makes him want to claw his skin off. He hopes this won’t take more than a day or two.

But that. That’s the thing that he hates the most - not knowing. Not knowing where you are, or what your plan is, or how any of this will end. Makes him feel weak. Powerless. Like he used to be.

Like when Da-som’s mother left him.

He fucking hates feeling powerless. He will not go back.

From his perch on the table that serves as the sole furniture in this room, Jimin watches him stalk back and forth, like a tiger prowling his cage. He doesn’t say anything to Yoongi, likely not wanting him to bruise his throat again. Jimin’s developed a bit of a squeak when he laughs, and it has not amused him in the slightest. Although Yoongi thinks it’s pretty funny.

The burner phone in Jimin’s pocket buzzes and he flips it open. “Any sign?”

Yoongi halts in his tracks, waiting.

Jimin sighs. “Fine. Just keep looking.” He tosses his phone on the mahogany surface, merely shaking his head at the older man.

Yoongi resumes his steps. Where the fuck did you go? You couldn’t have gotten very far in Jungkook’s police cruiser. It never returned to the station, and Yoongi’s goons are sweeping the area under his orders. But even though he has everyone searching for you, you’re nowhere to be found.

“We’ll find them,” Jimin finally speaks. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“Time is running out,” Yoongi spits back. The longer you’re gone, the more likely it is that you’ve called in reinforcements. Set a trap in motion. He can’t just sit here and wait for the walls to close in on him.

He needs to move.

“Listen, I nailed the kid, so he’s undoubtedly slowing the two of them down. We’ve got guys watching the hospitals, the clinics, every medical center in a 100 mile radius - there’s no way they’ll get past us to get him some help.” Jimin smoothly slides off the table, brushing dust from the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “We just have to be patient.”

Yoongi immediately pounces forward, pressing Jimin back into the wall behind him. He doesn’t touch the younger man, but holds him in place with the intensity of his stare.

“No. I’ve been patient. For five fucking years now, I’ve waited to take my place at the top of the chain in this goddamn city. And now that I’m here, I’m not going to fucking hide and wait any longer. YN-” he curses silently at the slip-up, “she isn’t going to take everything from me.”

“What are you saying?” Jimin asks, wincing at Yoongi’s glare. The usual sociopathic gleam in Jimin’s eye is dimmed under the older man’s gaze. He’s terrified right now.

“There’s a key in that safe that she stole. It belongs to another box, where I have kept a very important list. Among other things.” If only he hadn’t kept that safe at his house. If only he hadn’t brought you there. If only you were who you said you were. “I’ve got to get to that list. It’s the only thing that she needs to bring this all down.”

“And you think you can get to it first?”

“No.” Yoongi laughs, a cold, ugly sound that sends chills down Jimin’s spine. “I’m sure she’ll beat me to it. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

For the first time in hours, Jimin grins. “Okay, so an ambush, then?”

Yoongi nods.

“You know I’m in. But… everything you just said, how you just got all this power…” Jimin pauses, considering his words very carefully, “are you prepared to lose it all just to beat her?”

“I’d rather lose it all in a blaze of glory than have that bitch steal it from me,” Yoongi retorts, ignoring the stab of pain in his chest when he snarls the word ‘bitch.’ Stop it, you pussy. Stop pretending like she means anything, he berates himself.

“Blaze of glory? Fuck yeah, let’s go.” Jimin pulls his handgun from his holster and cocks it.

Yoongi smirks. “Let’s burn.”

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

#bts x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #thebtswritersclub #min yoongi fanfic #bad cop!au #fic: burning down #possumswrite

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

Text

Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids.

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it.

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying”

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements.

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you.

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit.

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin.

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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gutsby · 1 month

Text

Love Tap

Pairing: Dad!Joel x Reader

Summary: Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

Warnings: 18+. Joel Miller is a MUNCH Oral (f!receiving). Unprotected p-in-v (quickie). Slice of life, domestic-style and Joel calls you ‘Mama’ a whole lot. One playful bite.

Word count: 2.4k

Note: ‘You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up’ is a line from 2Pac’s song, ‘Hit ‘Em Up.’

Joel Miller was a wonderful father.

Occasionally, he forgot how to act like one.

He had a tendency to get a little careless. Sloppy.

Letting the dignified, ever-respectful façade slip every now and again and smacking your ass when you walked past. Copping a feel when you had to squeeze by him in the kitchen. Best of all, pinching your cheek through your skirt while you were cradling the baby—his baby—and leaving you no choice but to shoot him a quick back-the-fuck-up-before-you-get-smacked-the-fuck-up look and a covert middle finger to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be slapping your butt in front of the kids.

It was just bad practice to engage in those dumb, flirty antics, particularly when your four-year-old son had made it his mission in life to imitate everything dad did.

But again, Joel would sometimes forget that.

On a morning when he’d woken up a little too early with an erection that was a tad too stubborn to ignore, he got especially forgetful. He found himself plastered to your backside at the edge of the bathroom counter with a grin, knowing damn well you only had twenty-five minutes to get the family dressed, fed, and on the road.

“Joel, you are so—”

“Quick. I’ll be quick.”

His eyes suddenly pleading with yours in the mirror. You just might’ve had the willpower to turn his honeyed gaze away were it not for the lips that followed it. Tracing the shell of your ear and behind it, down your neck, leaving trails of soft kisses down the skin until he reached the collarbone, your sweet spot, and licked it—the bastard.

“Five. Minutes.” Your words were equal parts invitation and warning as you shimmied your PJs over your butt.

“You know I’ll have ya finished in two, sweet pea,” Joel teased—but deep down, you knew he wasn’t kidding.

Both of you had cum and were done in a record-breaking four and a half minutes, swapping pyjamas for normal clothes in less than half the time and stepping back out of the bathroom with your hair only marginally tousled.

By now you had the ‘Pre-K starts in thirty’ types of quickies down pat. You were proud. You glanced over your shoulder to see a similar glint in Joel’s eye, and as you started out the bedroom door, you felt a tap on your ass—or, with the sheer breadth of your husband’s hand, more like a WHACK, followed by the sound of a stifled laugh.

“Can Daddy get some more’a that later?” he quipped.

“More’a what?”

Aw, hell.

Your sweet, forever nosy mini-Joel was standing directly in front of you with two pinched brows and a mostly eaten dino nugget clenched tight in his tiny fist.

You opened your mouth to conjure up some half-assed excuse for the spank your son just saw, but then your husband was scooping the kid up in his arms and toting him straight down the hallway, and you heard, faintly:

“Whatcha gettin’ from Mama later?”

“None of your beeswax, bubs.”

Joel got his second helping around lunchtime.

He’d been in between calls with what felt like an endless stream of subcontractors, suppliers, architects, and project managers when he swung by the house. You were in the midst of baking cardamom buns when he blew through the kitchen like an EF5 tornado and decided he’d be feasting on something else entirely.

“Joel, my buns,” you whined as soon as he’d carried you up the stairs and tossed you onto the bed, eager as ever.

“Fuck your buns.”

“You already fucked ‘em this morning—can you relax?”

Your husband already had your pants tugged halfway down your legs. You let him, then helped him kick the fabric the rest of the way off when it got to your ankles.

“You’re a fuckin’ maniac, Miller, y’know that?”

Something in the way he smirked as he sank his face between your bare thighs told you he already knew that. You would’ve liked to try and scold him again—give him a little more grief for the baked treats that would surely be burnt to a crisp by the time he was done—but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your slit, and you refrained.

Even if you’d wanted to, you scarcely would’ve been able to form a single word apart from, ‘Fu-cking hell, Joel’ and ‘Right there, right thereohfuuuuuuckfuckfuck.’

That was just fine by your husband.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content to lap at your slick, glistening folds while you moaned and cursed his name; it made him proud. Appreciative. Maybe even a tad too smug for his own good, if he were being honest, because the way you fisted his hair and rutted your hips against his face made you act a little more like him. A touch more reckless, sloppy, and desperate than your daily obligations as parents would seem to allow. A bit less proper and refined and a lot more slutty—all for him.

Joel teased your clit with a few soft touches from the tip of his tongue, and you almost tore the sheets in two.

“That feel good, Mama?” he hummed.

“F-Fingers, fuck, Joel— fingers,” you begged.

Still using his tongue, Joel drew the shape of a lemniscate extra slow just to spite you. You whined and bucked your hips in protest, but the man was undeterred—he knew exactly what he was doing. The only way he could be tempted to use his fingers now would be to spread your lips apart and lick you more, which he did.

Joel licked and sucked and drove you up the fucking wall with those figure eights until you nearly couldn’t take it. In one hasty, desperate move, you tilted your hips and tried to slip a finger past Joel’s mouth, into your cunt.

He bit that finger. You yelped.

“JOEL!”

It wasn’t that the bite actually hurt—his teeth barely grazed skin—but rather the way he refused to speed up. Gauging your wants and your needs with expert precision, he massaged the hood of your clit with his tongue and took care to plant suckling kisses as he did. You moaned and squeezed the bedspread, relishing the vulgar sounds of his mouth and the need he was building inside you. You turned your head to the side and whined into the pillow, knowing from the depths of your soul you needed release, but Joel just wouldn’t oblige you…yet.

When he grinned against your wet, warm, and slippery folds, his mouth might as well have joined in and said, ‘Keep going—you’ll cum on my tongue when I say so.’

Instead, Joel opted to say ‘Mama’ again, softly.

Mama.

He always called you that when he took you extra slow. Sometimes when he took you quick, too. Like a reminder to you both that you were, in fact, the mother of his children, and if the man had had it his way he’d have given you fifty more by now, daycare bills be damned.

He was generous like that. Always giving, giving, giving.

Just not when it came to doling out orgasms sometimes.

“I have a divorce lawyer on speed dial, just so you know,” you hissed through gritted teeth, head falling back when Joel’s tongue sank forward—inside you, then, “FUCK!”

“Mhmmm,” he hummed before retracting once more. Licking the soft, fleshy rim and nearly eliciting a scream.

Joel traced a circle with his tongue. He savored the taste. While you were whining and grinding your hips against the wet spot underneath you—a puddle that would only grow larger the longer he went on—your husband was devouring you, kissing your thighs every now and then.

“Well, if we split, my tongue goes too,” Joel said. Smug.

“Texas is a community property state,” you murmured, “I taught you how to eat pussy so your mouth is a marital asset.”

Silently, Joel wondered how that argument might hold up in court, grinned, then continued licking your cunt. You squeezed his head with your thighs, dug the balls of your feet in the sheets, and let out a lewd, pornographic scream that could’ve woken half the street. Luckily, your neighbors were probably all at work, your bedroom walls insulated just well enough to mask the noise, and Joel’s resolve crumbling slowly as he kissed between your legs.

One wanton, shameless, ‘I’m gonna cum, Joel, please’ was like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten with a wife and mother as sweet as you, so upright and polite in your day-to-day life and then a hot, trembling mess beneath his tongue when he needed you like this the most. Surely he couldn’t treat you so mean.

Joel wedged two thick fingers in your slick, dripping heat and beckoned you to him as kindly as he possibly could. Rubbing the pads of both digits, callused as they were, against the spongy insides of your core and flicking them forward—‘C’mere, Mama, Daddy’s right here, go on’— so of course, you had no other logical choice but to cum.

It was all habit by now. A dazzling, sumptuous routine.

And Joel Miller was certain he’d never tire of seeing it.

Your spine arched off the mattress an inch or two, toes curling at the feeling, and while the sensation spanned over your body, your husband was the first to see it, sense it on his lips and tongue and fingers just as well. He squeezed your hip, told you how fucking pretty you looked when you came for him, then patiently waited out the spasms and cries and fingers lacing through his soft, dark locks like he was your last remaining tether to earth.

Then he kissed the inside of your thighs and smiled.

“All better, honey?” he hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed back.

“Still want a divorce?”

A smirk and a response of ‘Not until you knock me up at least one more time’ was hovering somewhere over your tongue when you felt the bed shake. Buzzing. Vibrating?

Joel sat up between your legs and yanked something out from under his ass. He peered down at the thing—staring into a screen—and cocked a brow as he looked back up.

“Someone’s been naughty,” he said simply. Grinning.

He lobbed the phone your way, and you just barely managed to catch it between two trembling hands.

Incoming Call: Francisco C. Morales Elementary

You shot Joel a look and answered it instantly.

Disoriented, disheveled, and slightly foggy from climax, you half-expected to find one of your son’s disgruntled teachers on the other end of the line, reminding you that today was a noon dismissal and everyone was supposed to pick their kids up an hour ago. Your husband was the one who would always keep up with school schedules, so your gaze narrowed at him, butt scooting up the bed while he tried to dive right back between your legs.

“He-llo?”

You smacked a hand away from the front of your blouse.

“Is this Mrs. Miller?” a voice trilled through the phone.

Yes, unfortunately, it was.

You almost had to backhand Joel across the face when he tried to bite the button off your brand new top, teeth ruthless in their pursuit of getting you fully naked now.

“This is she,” you squeaked.

Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line—as though they knew you had a broad, hulking husband with a cock as hard as sheet metal trying to tear your clothes off while you talked. You stifled a shriek and a giggle when you felt your relentless man move down.

Joel was busy working your blouse from the bottom with that feral mouth of his when the voice sounded again:

“We’d really appreciate it if you and your husband could come see us this afternoon to have a little chat about—”

Your eyes widened. You clutched your phone even tighter and this time, more seriously, shoved Joel away. When he frowned and started to pout, you raised a finger.

“A-About what? Has my— has he done something bad?” Your voice all of a sudden tight, words wavering just enough to snag your husband’s attention too.

“We can explain more when you get here, he’s just…”

‘What the fuck?’ Joel mouthed silently, leaning in.

“What? What’s he done?” You couldn’t help it.

You heard a long sigh across the line, and you knew that wasn’t good. It sounded a lot like the kind of sighs you made whenever your baby made a colossal mess all over the kitchen floor, or your husband slammed a door too loud and woke the kids from their nap, or your son just—

“—keeps slapping his classmates on the butt.”

“Wait, what?”

You blinked. Joel coughed. Together, half-naked on the bed, you sat up a little straighter and leaned even closer into the phone, hearts starting to thud in your chests.

“Your son was just…spanking other kids and asking if he could ‘get some more’a that later,’ and when his teacher asked him where he’d learned to do a thing like that—”

You turned. Joel paled. Your gaze could’ve seared a hole through the front of his skull if you stared any harder, and just as your son’s principal continued talking, Joel raised his hands in surrender, already trying to apologize.

“Honey—”

“—and he told her he saw your husband do it at home—”

You didn’t need to hear another word. You were already fishing for your pants, yanking them back up your legs and brushing aside your husband’s soft, red-faced attempts at consolation, and when you were dressed, you started straight for the door. Already babbling some half-coherent apology to the woman on the phone, dodging Joel’s impossibly large hands and arms and hugs as he tried to pull you back into his chest and tell you he was sorry. You just might’ve let him, and maybe even believed him to be sincere, if you didn’t see the tiniest smirk on his lips as he fought to wrangle you in.

You’d made it to the door and were just about to pivot to give Joel the finger, tell him this was not funny at all, and he was coming with you right now, when both of you halted at the threshold and were obliged to turn again.

You sniffed the air, and your husband made a face.

Was it—

Before you could think, a plume of smoke drifted out through the kitchen door. Your eyes widened, and right as the fire alarm let out its piercing scream, you wailed,

“My buns!”

#C’EST LA PLUS BELLE 🍕 QUE J’AI JAMAIS VU LE FROMAGE EST FRAIS C’EST VRAIMENT MIEUX QUE LE DERNIER FILM DE GÉRARD DEPARDIEU #if anyone knows how to get a song unstuck from their head please lmk LOL #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us #tlou

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yanderenightmare · 7 months

Text

Mahito x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, psychological torture, Mahito in and of himself

fem reader

Mahito is so scary because you're the only one who sees him.

You can't tell your friends, you can't call the cops, you can't even discuss it with your therapist for fear of being committed.

You're all alone with him – half the time convinced you’re going insane.

He doesn't even need to kidnap you. Why would he? He likes your cozy apartment. To see you in your natural habitat with all your personal trinkets. Your books, your decorations, the contents of your fridge, your makeup, your clothes, not to mention the soft warmth of your bed…

Sure, his sewer has its charm, but you probably wouldn’t like it there very much. Not that it would stop him, but he’s sure you’d be boring if all you did was stay cooped up there all day.

This is much more interesting. To be there when you come home from work, having trifled through all your belongings, dragged everything out – made a mess like a new puppy would. To watch you try to cling to your sanity, going about life, trying to live it normally even when he’s right there on your sofa wanting to dish about how much you loath your pissy boss or that loud neighbor and what fun it might be to kill them.

You brush him off as intrusive thoughts – a manifestation within your mind. That’s the only explanation that allows you to keep your wits with you.

But it’s become hard to bring anyone home. Even though others can't see him, he’ll walk about your friends and the odd date and comment on all the things they do, ridiculing them when they say something cheesy, feigning puking before giving it away with a snicker, then asking you why you bother hanging out with them at all. And you wonder if that’s what you really think… why else would a figment of your imagination say something like that?

No. You decide. He doesn’t represent your thoughts. He’s just… a roommate who knows no boundaries.

Funny enough, you don’t really recognize that he’s any dangerous before you’re getting dressed after a shower, opening a drawer on your dresser you rarely look in – only to find it overfilled with dozens of tiny shrunken heads.

You scurry back on the floor with your hand clasped over your mouth until your back meets your bed – skin crawling. There’s no air left in your lungs from the shock to produce any such thing as a scream – so instead, you start heaving – then crying.

“Oh – I was wondering when you’d find them!” A cheer is heard from your bedroom threshold.

Your eyes pan to look at him – or it. Mahito, with a big grin on his face – clapping as though impressed by your performance.

“Wh-what – what is this?” You splutter, trying not to throw up – casting shifty glances over at the lump that had fallen to the floor – its face twisted with agony, unrecognizable, but you think you still knew… “What have you done?”

It doesn’t smell of rot, but something else – like unwashed clothing – sweat and piss and shit – you don’t understand how you hadn’t smelled it before. You don’t understand how you hadn’t heard it before – the moaning, though only in hoarse weak voices, still there, in a chorus, crying in pain.

“I’ve been studying them.” He says – casually, padding across the floor before bending down to pick the one up.

He looked at it with disappointment, throwing it up and catching it like one would a baseball – then clicked his tongue.

“But I must say you’ve got boring taste… I don’t feel like I learned much of use from any of them at all.”

He drops it to the floor in a fleshy splat, and you cringed anew – wanting to crawl away, wanting to get out, to call the police – maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to be committed – maybe there was something genuinely wrong with you…

Mahito doesn't share your concerns, though. He’s got his mind on other things.

“I think I’ll learn better through practice.”

You don’t realize what he’s talking about before you’re being lifted up on the bed and then pushed down against it.

His lean but muscular frame has you dwarfed as he crawls after you – caging you between his arms and legs.

“I wouldn’t mind the floor, but I’m sure you’d prefer the bed. That’s how you humans usually like it, right?” He smiles – as though he’s doing you a favor.

He’s taken off his usual tunic – showcasing a pale grey chest patchworked together in crude stitches – and you don’t really understand why you’d ever conjure something that looked like it. So human, yet still… so not.

“I didn’t know what size you’d want – they were all so different – but I think bigger is better, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t register before you feel the weight of it on your stomach.

Fat and warm, ridged with veins and hard against you.

Looking down, feeling the situation settle on your skin like the raw cold – you realize, though you don’t understand it – Mahito isn’t just some imaginary friend.

Whatever he is – he’s no such thing as a friend at all.

Your chest flares. “Mahito, no – ”

Your hands fly to try and push him off, but they’re easily caught. His fingers stretch inhumanly like playdough, using only one hand to reign in both wrists, pinning them to the pillow above you.

“No? Still too small?” He asks, as though your uproar had been a cry for more – his voice in a playful lilt. “I can make it bigger if you like~”

You squirm when the thing between your thighs grows an inch – swelling up into something fatter than your wrist – weighty and twitching atop you.

It alone churns your guts, but the sight of his face gleaming so innocently makes it all so much worse.

You whimper as he drags a rude finger through your folds – bluntly poking at your hole.

“You’re supposed to be wet, no?” He posed, keen eyes watching your face grimace in discomfort – drilling his digit inside you despite it.

When knuckle-deep, he curled it, nail scraping into the gummy of your tender walls – making your whole body twist with an ache, shaking your head while sinking your teeth into your lip.

“Stop-” You croaked pitifully, still trying to wring your wrists free – but the hand keeping them jailed had hardened into something that was no longer skin.

He just yawned at your struggle. “So noisy...” Bored while looking down at you and the ugly way your lips curled at his crude fingering – but then his eyes widened. “Wait – oh! I get it now! So, this is what kissing is for…”

He didn’t give you much time to turn away before his mouth locked on yours – more in an attempt to swallow than to kiss, feeding you his tongue – which felt so much longer than it should be – winding through you until it licked your gag-reflex and made you choke.

You tensed in response, clenching the finger prodding you – and he took it as an invitation to squeeze another in – making you squeal out a sob in his mouth.

But though it was a cruel ministration, it was enough to tickle the instinct – dragging wet out from within you, bathing the digits that now slid with greater ease in and out.

“See~ I told you I’d learn better through practice...” He mumbled against your lips – having felt the change – also noticing the quiet that befell you… looking so cute beneath him.

He chuckled – the taste of your kiss still warm and wet on his lips.

“That really did shut you up, hm~ you humans are so funny.”

That thing resting heavily on your belly does a little jump, and you flinch with it. Left panting after being throat-fucked by a tongue – you’re really only able to shake your head as he slips the beastly thing down between your thighs – its fat head licking your clit on its way until kissing your entrance.

Two fingers haven't done you any justice – nothing could – to prep you for something of that size.

“I think this is correct…” He muses, nudging himself against the slim coin-sized hole – looking a little confused while he did so – though not exactly unsure of himself… more as though it was the whole procedure in and of itself that was at fault and not him. He was just following instructions, after all.

Sucking his teeth at the tautness, he continued to press the tip through you.

A whine was ripped from your chest as it arched off the bed – thighs quaking on each side of his hips, kept spread despite wanting to force themselves shut.

“It’s better if you relax.” He offered then, though without much sympathy. Sounding almost jaded – as though you were keeping him waiting.

But then a thumb pressed down on your clit, forcing another jolt to rush through you.

“Women like to be touched here, right?” He rubbed crass circles into it – worse than amateurishly – rough patterns that bore no real intention of making you feel good.

Then his mouth slid from your mouth, down your neck – only to sink teeth in your tit.

“And here~” He giggled while nomming your nipple, rolling the little nib between his teeth before flicking over it with his tongue again and again, sucking on it harshly.

None of it made you relax like he’d suggested. Either way, he continued to sink his length one thick chub at a time as fast as your hole allowed. And soon enough, he reached your end before your hole could reach his. But that was no issue…

The hand on your clit, cupped your mound instead – and beneath it, where warmth pooled, you felt inner things alter – change, rearrange, allowing the giant member inside you to sink deeper even though you knew there couldn’t possibly be any deeper to go.

“Wow~ look at that…” He awed when his pelvis smushed against your mound – kneading into your clit as he pressed a curious hand down on the bulge he was making in your belly.

Strings of drool stuck from his lips to your chest – and a sick look pooled in his eyes.

Thicker and thicker breaths left him. He swallowed thickly. Barely blinking.

“I think I get it now…” His voice had shed its humorous tone, now sounding soft with something you didn’t want to have the attention of. “It’s like our souls are playing together…”

His hand stroked your stomach – like he was petting something.

“Feels good.”

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