#sinister profiles

[anthonyzoxide]

Program: Procreate - drawing, ibisPaint X - filters (iPad) / Time drawn in: 56 minutes

Original (drawn by femtanyl[?]):

[vaugarde]

may I suggest appletun or toedscruel for the guild second in command character... idk why I just feel like those two fit the character description you gave. also I want to see the funny silly fungi in pmd stories LMAO

hold on.... you may be on to something with toedscruel

[mariocki]

Anthony Ainley guests as medical specialist Josef Kerston, a doctor but also (shock!) a villain, in The Adventurer: The Bradley Way (1.4, ITC, 1972)

[docgold13]

Profiles in Villainy

Simon Bar Sinister

The diabolical Simon Bar Sinister is a mad scientist whose many villainous schemes have been regularly thwarted by the intrepid superhero known as Underdog.  Accompanied by his trusted underling, Cad Lackey, Bar Sinister has endeavored on numerous plots to take over the world, utilizing a variety of machination (ranging from giant robots to shrinking potions to mind controlling rays).  The villain’s amazing scientific genius notwithstanding, Underdog always managed to save the day and foil the Bar Sinister's dastardly plots.

Simon Bar Sinister was voiced by actor Allen Swift and first appeared in the Underdog episode entitled ‘The Big Shrink,’ airing on October 16th, 1964.  

[fizziefactory]

Profile: ♤ Undertaker Fizzy

Model: Undertaker Fizzy

Nicknames: “Undertaker!Fizzy”, “Undertaker”, "Mortis", “Mort”

Pronouns: he/him | it/its | they/them

Height: 6’3”

Can always be found at: A small shed in the Wrath Ring, atop many, many graves.

Works for: Mammon and Satan got a deal, Mortis Cleans up the Wrath Ring, and Mammon takes the cash

Vibes: Weight of the world - Shayfer James || Zeit - Rammstein || Hellfire - Barns Courtney || Daydream in blue - I Monster

Features

Referring to the “hat” as horns, the right one is all black, while the left is white with rib-like stripes on the underside. The horns appear droopy

Instead of the usual jingle bells at the end of the horns, there are two grave bells hanging at the end instead

He has a little black top hat with a green ribbon sitting in between the two horns, he switches it up sometimes though

His “beak” if you will, is black instead of red

He wears all black trousers, coat and vest, a white button up with a standing collar, and a black ribbon tie around his neck. Clothes, once again, often changes.

He frequently wears shoes over his feet to avoid wear and tear

He's quite a bit taller and stronger than the average fizzy, this to handle the heavy workload that comes with handling dead weight all day.

Functions

Its main function is to handle and bury the remains of hellborne that have passed away, a job not many in hell consider necessary. 

This includes performing autopsies, mortician duties such as burial preparation, and of course, gravedigging. You want a fancy grave he'll arrange that for you, and you want a mass grave, he'll fix that too.

While it's mainly working in Wrath, the place where many casualties happen to take place, it can be rented out to other rings as well.

He currently has a contract with Carmilla Carmine, where he cleans up the dead after each extermination, while also collecting all the weapons from the dead. This information is not shared with Mammon. He ain't no snitch.

He may also performs funerals, holding them in Satan's name.

Connections

Satan: Working in the Wrath Ring under Mammon, this fizzy will often take orders directly from Satan.

Asmodeus: He designed him.

Mammon: He works for him and he is considered his “boss”, but he isn't all that faithful to this arrangement. He can do work for anybody really, not like Mammon questions where the money comes from. 

Manager!Fizzy: He was made the same day this fizzy was made, and he's the only other fizzy that can talk to this guy on equal footing. That being said, they aren't particularly involved with one another.

Therapist!Fizzy: Knows him through his psych-evaluations. They will nod at each other from across the room, that's the extent of their relationship

Mind

Mortis is one of the older fizzies, and has been very isolated from the general “fizzy-culture” all the others have been exposed to. He dunno much about that there Fizzarolli feller, he's designed after him, sure… but the only thing he sees all day is the wrathian desert, or the mangled corpses of the dead. He doesn't relate much to the others, which in a sense, is a very lonely feeling.

But eh.

He's just happy sitting in his rocket chair after a long day of hard work, smoking his gas-filled electric cigarette while the charging cable is doing its work in the back. He ain't about to clown around for some rando on the street… he's a busy man.

That's not to say it can't get depressing...

Hellborne teenagers letting the thrill of living in hell get to them, sending their cars crashing and burning. Sinners who thought they'd live on forever, only for an angel to snuff them out with one jab of their spear... Seeing mothers ripped away from their own children, clutching on to the little bodies as they scream into the night...

Your own immortality must feel like such a slap in their faces.. so the least you can do is to treat those moments with the respect they deserve.

[andi-o-geyser]

yeah just checked i’m still gay

bonus mystique being unable to sit straight:

[louisianimal]

Going forward I will be posting from my newly acquired Mac :))))))))

[sleep-0-deprived]

Dom! Yan professor x himbo reader imagines~! ໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა

Just imagining your biology professor being a total hard ass, rude and unkind to every student he’s ever had and giving out the most excessive amounts of homework daily, as soon as he met you something sinister had awoken inside him. The way you’d smile at him all stupid wearing shorts that showed to much and jogging pants that let him see the side profile of your cock during the first day of meeting you had this man losing it.

Just imagining you staying back after your college classes, you being freshly twenty three and scraping by if not failing every class you took, only making it to college on a sports scholarship with you staring and blinking at your professor all class. Yandere professor, just imagining him watching you from the corner of his eye the whole class, his hands moving on auto pilot only able to think about you and how you blink dumbly at him while he teaches making him speak up “is something wrong Mr L/n?”

Just imagining you getting stuck after class in tutoring sessions all hours of the day because he claims “I’m just trying to help you achieve better [name]” he’d utter those words so sincerely it would keep you oblivious while he stares at your ass and your pecs, bitting his lips when you lean in your chair showing him the perfect peak of your body having this man insane having to excuse himself for a moment during your sessions while he goes and “fixes” the situation between his legs.

Just imagining Yandere professor who rubs up against you grabbing and touching your body all over at any chance he gets with close proximity, slowly over time building trust off of his age and status, him pushing mid forties and freshly divorced. Just imagining him bringing up chats about his golden retriever just to twist your oblivious trust into something else, making you feel special whilst he gives you all the attention you could ever dream of with the intent of getting you all to himself wanting to possess and keep you like a boy toy.

Just imagining Yandere professor who asks you for “favors” claiming he’d make sure you passed all your classes, that you’d never have to worry about losing your scholar ship. He’d have your face in his crotch with your mouth wide open engulfing his cock all flushed in the face with teary eyes holding his thighs. Oh how he almost felt sorry for those poor girls that drooled after you during your games….almost, but having your mouth stuffed full of cock asking “am I doin good E’nough f’you sherr” while you soured your words with spit making slurping sounds just trying to please a good grade out of him.

Just imagining Yandere professor who does random dorm checkups on you, making you stay over at his apartment the nights your frat bros throw parties, not standing for the thought of some sorority girl getting her manicured hands on you, you were His and he’d fuck you so good that you knew it. Two glasses of wine later sitting in his apartment with your hand gripping the counters in shambles “s-ir!” All you can repeat over and over is his name speaking it like a prayer to your messiah feeling a drunken man going at it fucking you so hard the sounds start buzzing together and the over head light in his kitchen blurs under your pupils.

Just imagining Yandere professor who had your legs spread wide open sitting leaned back on his desk eating your ass out like a starving man. Gripping your skin and kissing your pucker, practically making out with your rim and letting you ramble on cluelessly about your plays and strategies, whining about how “the coach is placing me as Qb this year!” While you grip the back of your professors head looking down at him just blinking and getting comfy when you see him having no intentions of letting you go since him being able to work your body and play with you however he liked was part of the “conditions”

Just imagining your grades going from a fifties and forties across the boards to becoming a straight A+ student having all of your friends asking how you managed to swindle that, having your fiends wanting to know your secret while one of them asks “all those time you’ve been ditching, you must be going off to secretly study huh!” Your closest buddy just laughs and nudges you during practice unable to tell him that you’ve been whoring yourself out to the most hated teacher on campus.

[strangelockd]

Ok ok fair but can I raise you this man…

[ddejavvu]

hotch loosening his tie and undoing a few buttons to eat you out on his desk at the office, having to take his tie completely off and push it into your mouth to keep you quiet 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"Jesus Christ." Is your lover's careful assessment of the mess between your thighs, glistening as it clings to your skin and covers an expanse that reaches far beyond the lacy hem of your now-ruined panties.

He inspects you for a moment, runs a thick thumb through the slick steadily streaming from your weepy cunt, and smears it lower over your thigh instead of licking his finger clean.

"I need to take off my tie," He muses, fingers flying to the windsor knot to loosen it, "You're already such a mess that it would be stained the second I started."

"Can I have it?" You whine, craning your neck to stare down at him where he's kneeling between your legs. The chilled oak of his desk bites against your bare skin, but you're slowly warming it with the fever of desire you find yourself in. You reach for the tie, pleading, and Aaron sets it in your trembling fingers.

"Oh god, it- it smells like your cologne," You realize, breath shaky as you smother the silken fabric against your face, breathing in the scent of Aaron where it clings so potently to the fabric, "Hurry, Aaron, please-?"

Your hips writhe slightly as you squirm atop his desk, but his hand never comes to hold your waist in place.

"I have to unbutton my shirt, too." He murmurs, and you hear the rustling of fabric that lets you know he's already two buttons in, "Are you trying to stain all of my clothes, honey?"

You whimper softly against the fabric of his tie, and finally- finally one of his rough hands glides up your leg, starting at the ankle and ending near your throbbing core.

"You are? You want me to walk back out there with a dirty tie? That's bold." He assesses, "Our coworkers are profilers. It would take them, oh-" He smears his thumb close- this close to your slickened mess of a cunt, and your thighs shudder like a sob, "Ten seconds to figure out I'd just been on my knees between your legs. Is that what you're going for? You want everyone to know you're spread-eagle over my desk?"

"Aaron," You plead, desperate and pathetic, "Please?" You crane your neck down to watch him once more, and he's the picture of sin, thighs strained against his slacks, cock pressing even tighter against their fabric. There's three buttons undone on his shirt which reveal a mass of dark, wiry hair and which prevent the collar from being soaked in your pre-release. There's contentment and something dark, something sadistic and sinister in his eyes as he kneels before you, unquestionably dominant despite the position he's in.

"You're good at begging." He observes, his voice calm and collected, "And at making a mess. I'd tease you more, but if you get any wetter, I'd have to strip completely to avoid getting dirty. And we don't have much time before the team realizes that there's two agents missing and only one locked door. So lift up your hips, honey- there we go," He pats at your thigh and slips his hands beneath your hips when you lift them, elevating your core before he buries his face in it, "And try not to make too much noise- bite down on that tie whenever you have to scream."

[f14fun]

my own pastry (!baker x op81)

synopsis: in which case y/n meets the infamous racecar driver oscar piastri as she works in her family-owned pastry shop, and she pretends not to know him. little does he know, she's idolized him for the longest time.

smau + prose (2.9K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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yourusername

liked by yourbff1, yourbff2 and 58 others

yourusername: the feminine urge to own a bakery

view comments:

yourbff1: alright no need to brag, you were blessed with an amazing family business and i'm here stuck with a desk job

yourusername: you laugh at me everytime i come home with flour stuck on my face.

yourbff1: well...😁😁

user1: wait this is so aesthetic

user2: drop the location of the bakery now! i wanna visit 🫶🏽

yourusername: 5512 streetname, monte carlo monaco!

user2: thx babes you will be seeing me in the next week

yourbff2: so we are not going to talk about the mystery guest that showed up at the bakery today...

yourusername: HE COULD BE LURKING. STAY ALERT. DO NOT MENTION HIM.

yourbff1: you mean osc*r p**str*?? 😝😝🥳

yourusername: ASKJAKJEJAE HE'S GOING TO FIND ME NOOO

yourusername: pls delete your comment i BEG.

yourbff2: @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri

yourbff1: @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri

user3: oh my, bless her poor soul 😭

yourusername: DELETE YOURSELF OH GOD

yourusername: I FEEL A SINISTER PRESENCE COMING

oscarpiastri: my presence was called upon?

yourbff1: LMFAO POINT AND LAUGH 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

yourusername: hey-y-y oscar... 🥹

oscarpiastri: did you just stutter over a comment 💀

yourusername: i can explain!! 😁

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To be frank, it's honestly quite difficult to explain the series of events that happened about twelve hours earlier.

6:58 AM ~ l'orchidée bakery shop

It was right before opening. Maman had entrusted me with opening shop and making sure it was running smoothly, and knowing that the fate of our family bakery was in my hands today was especially important to me.

It was 6:58 AM, and since business was typically slow in the first half hour of shop opening, employees showed up half an hour after opening. So there it was me all by myself, until 7:30 AM.

I showed up at the bakery much earlier than normal, at around 3 AM, prepping for the day. The first task was to turn on the ovens, letting them reach the perfect baking temperature.

While the ovens heated up, I took out the baguette and croissant doughs that had been proofing overnight. The doughs were soft and slightly cool to the touch, with a subtle yeasty aroma that promised delicious results. I placed the doughs on the floured countertop, feeling their smooth texture as I gave them one last gentle knead, coaxing out any remaining air bubbles.

Shaping the doughs into their final forms was almost meditative. The baguette dough stretched and folded under my hands, forming into long, slender loaves with tapered ends. The croissant dough was rolled and folded into layers, ready to be cut and shaped into crescents. With each turn and fold, I could feel the anticipation of the final baked product growing.

Next, I mixed batters for cakes, muffins, and other pastries, carefully measuring each ingredient to ensure consistency and quality. The rhythmic motions of stirring and mixing were comforting, grounding me in the early morning quiet of the bakery.

With the ovens now hot, I slid in the first trays of bread and pastries. The smell of baking bread began to fill the bakery, a comforting scent that promised a successful day.

On and on I went prepping, while simultaneously listening to music. One thing about L'Orchidée Bakery, is that our surround sound system that covers every square foot of the little coffee shop, works its magic everyday. It is very difficult to hear many outside noises at that.

So imagine my suprise when I'm singing "Slut!" by Taylor Swift on full volume and I turn around, to only find myself face to face (well, behind a sheet of glass) with none other than Oscar Piastri.

"But if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us, and if they call me a SLU AHH!-"

I screamed slut, as I spun around and ended up making obnoxiously close eye contact with a boy in a black hoodie and unruly brown hair.

The broom in my hand that I was using to sweep the floor crashed to the floor, a one, big, sweeping motion. Scaring myself, and the boy, we both aggressively lurched back.

This is when I got to take a closer look, and I had just realized that Oscar Piastri had just scared the shit out of both of us.

And I was even more embarrassed to see that poor little Oscar was just trying to look at the bakery's menu, only to get a terrible birds eye view of my horrid singing and dancing.

He started to chuckle, his hand brushing against the faint stubble of hair that was growing across his chin. Sheepishly knocking on one side of the glass that separated us, I gestured for him to come in.

A customer is a customer! (even if he does happen to be the Formula 1 driver I absolutely idolize, and on any given normal day, I would be too shy to even make eye contact with him)

Running to the front entrance of the shop, I reach in my pocket to pull out the plethora of keys that dangle from my measly keychain. Fumbling with a golden key with the letters LB engraved on the key's front, I unlock the door.

"Hi, hello! Welcome to L'orchidée Bakery, so sorry for the little jumpscare you got there," I timidly trailed off.

"You mean the singing, dancing, or both," he joked back. Immediately, my discomfort shifted, as the environment had turned playful. Smiling, I responded.

"Hahaha, you think your funny," I rolled my eyes, as we made our way to the register.

"What can I say, I might just be a stand-up-comedian in disguise," he joked, arms crossed, and his eyes crinkled into a vibrant eye smile.

"Well, are you?" I asked, pretending to genuinely not know his occupation.

"Are what?" He nervously chuckled.

"Are you actually a stand-up-comedian?" I asked.

"Wait, are you serious?" His eyes bulged out, not able to hide his surprise, he fumbled with his phone.

"A hundred percent," I replied, playing the game. Trying to make it believable, I put up a mask of utter confusion. "What's your job?"

"Oh, um, I drive?" He lowly said, he voice trailing off, confused.

"You think you drive of you know you drive?" I barked out a laugh, finding it funny that he ended the sentence in a questioning tone.

"Oh yes, I definitely drive," He nodded his head vigorously.

"So like, Uber, Lift, valet services?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, something like that, yup," Oscar replied. It took everything in me to not burst out laughing from his god-awful acting. This boy couldn't lie for shit, his eyebrows and eyes immediately betrayed him.

Pretending to believe him, I continued our conversation.

"So...do you liked driving around everywhere?" I asked. If this boy kept on lying, I just knew the conversation would get so funny.

"Yeah, it's pretty fun, you know? Getting to meet different people, seeing new places," he said, trying to keep up the charade.

"Interesting! Must be quite an adventure. Any memorable rides?" I prodded, enjoying the playful banter.

"Oh, definitely. Had a guy once who insisted on singing Taylor Swift songs at the top of his lungs," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Holding a laugh in, I'm not sure whether he was referring to me, Lando, or Daniel.

"Really? What a coincidence," I said, smirking. "Sounds like my kind of passenger."

We both laughed, the initial awkwardness completely dissolved. It was surreal, chatting casually with Oscar Piastri, as if he were just another customer and not the famous Formula 1 driver I admired.

"So, what can I get for you today?" I asked, ready to actually do my job.

"Surprise me," he said, leaning on the counter. "I'm in the mood for something new."

"Coming right up," I said, turning to grab a fresh-baked strawberry-chocolate croissant and a steaming cup of coffee. As I handed it to him, I couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. Today was already shaping up to be unforgettable.

Looking around, there didn't seem to be anyone approaching the bakery, so as he sat down at the breakfast bar and asked whether I wanted to sit next to him, I immediately took his offer. (I mean seriously, who would not take the offer?)

"So, what brings you to this little bakery?" I asked, curious.

"Well, I heard a lot of good things about this place. Plus, I'm always on the lookout for a good pastry," he replied. "Figured I'd check it out myself."

"Glad you did," I said warmly. "We do our best to keep the reputation up. And hey, if you ever need more Taylor Swift serenades, you know where to find me."

"Good to know," he said with a laugh. "I'll definitely keep that in mind."

The playful banter made me forget, if only for a moment, that I was talking to a celebrity. It was just a normal conversation, easy and light-hearted.

"So, where do you usually drive?" I asked, pretending to be completely unaware of his true profession.

"Oh, you know, here and there," he said, trying to be vague. "Mostly around the city, sometimes longer trips."

"Must be fun, getting to see different places and meet different people," I said, keeping up the act.

"Yeah, it's interesting for sure," he agreed. "And sometimes you get to witness some pretty crazy stuff."

"I bet," I replied. "Like what?"

"Well, there was this one time I drove a bunch of guys to a music festival. They were already half-drunk and started a karaoke session in the backseat. It was wild," he said with a laugh.

"Sounds like a blast," I said, laughing along. This definitely felt like a recounting of a true story, probably along the lines of something that Yuki or Lando would do.

We continued the conversation, laughing and chatting, flirting here and there for the next half hour until my coworkers arrived. When they did, it gave Oscar and I quite a fright, as we both were mid-conversation when the front door swung open.

My coworker gave us morning blessings, and a blush blossomed across Oscar's cheeks, shy, that he got caught. Crumbling up his paper cup and paper wrap that held what used-to-be a croissant, we both knew it was time for him to leave.

"Wait," I said laughing, "We just had a whole conversation and I still don't know your name," I said, still playing into the role.

"Oscar," he said, genuine, and for a second I felt bad for lying to him. But then again, not really, he played into the banter as well.

"Will I see you here again, Oscar?" I asked.

"You might just have to wait and see," he winked. As I held the door open for him as he left, his hand brushed against mine, and goosebumps rippled across my arm. I felt a swirl of butterflies in my stomach when he smiled and wished me a heartfelt goodbye. Oh, brother.

This is not going to end well.

Snapping me awake from my daydream, my coworker whisper shouted. "You do know that was just Formula One driver Oscar Piastri, right girl? You definitely know who he is."

"Oh of course," I laughed, speaking at a normal volume. "But he doesn't know that I know that," I replied.

"Oh good God, this might end horribly, or become an extremely funny story that one tells at family dinner," my coworker said.

"Do you think the next time he comes he will sign my Oscar Piastri poster hanging in the janitorial closet?" I jokingly asked.

"Y/N!!!" my coworker scolded.

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oscarpiastri

liked by yourbff1, user1 and 303,199 others

oscarpiastri: special treat, special day

view comments:

user1: i hate this cryptic ass caption-

user1: OSCAR WHAT DOES IT MEAN

user2: alright we get it oscar, you had some good food and your big backedness made you have a good day

user3: wait... this pastry shop looks so good i might check it out

user4: oscar giving a bakery a free shoutout, absolutely unheard of

user5: the bakery is called L'Orchidée Bakery, and they are based in monaco! hope this helps 🧁💗

liked by oscarpiastri

user6: wait imagine if oscar's sneaky link worked there, that would be hella funny

user7: ainnoway that man pulls 🧍🏻

user8: honestly, you never know 😭

landonorris: we get it, you would not stop yapping about your amazing strawberry chocolate croissant this morning

landonorris: and how amazing, stunning, and beautiful that one girl was-

logansargeant: you forgot to mention that he was practically drooling everytime he spoke of her

landonorris: and he didn't even get her name 😝🫵🏻

logansargeant: what an absolute LOSER 💀

oscarpiastri: DELETE THIS.

oscarpiastri: DELETE THIS NOW.

oscarpiastri: i am not a loser. i very much win in life.

oscarpiastri: PLEASE DELETE THIS.

this comment thread has been deleted

user9: SKSKKSKSREJAJA did you guys see the deleted comment thread omg

user10: that is not real omg, oscar rizzing finally??!

user7: @/user6 i'm so sorry you were so right 😭😭

user6: i just know he pulls hella bitches

user6: you guys are just unfamiliar with his game (awkward white boy rizz)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff1 and 101 others

yourusername: la dolce vita (he bought me books and flowers, and baked for me)

view comments

yourbff1: yada yada yada, no need to rub it in you bagged your longtime bae

user1: WAIT THATS HER NEW BOYFIE??

yourbff2: what in the soft launch, CALL ME NOW-

yourbff2: PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

oscarpiastri: no can do cuz 🥳😝📢

oscarpiastri: i fear she's cuddling with her man right now

yourbff2: YOU STOLE MY GIRL, you GIRL STEALER 🫵🏿

yourbff1: out of context that sounds so, so wrong 💀

user2: babe, your new boyfie is oscar mf piastri. 🧍🏻‍♀️

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: so sad that you lied to me when we first met

oscarpiastri: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏 yeah👍 mama🤰say it’s my👧😣fault🥺😢 my fault😭😞 i wear my heart💝 on my sleeve👕

yourusername: SO SO SO SORRY BABE XX

user3: she's just a girl, oscar 🙄

oscarpiastri: i hope the date was amazing, you cutie patootie

yourusername: of course it was, my hubby bubby

oscarpiastri: ugh, my teddy bear honey bee is so cute in this

yourusername: you're definitely cuter sugar plum baby bear

yourbff1: YOU DIGUST ME

yourbff1: GET TS OUT OF THE COMMENT SECTION

user4: ^^ and INTO the bedroom

liked by oscarpiastri

yourbff2: @/user4 @/oscarpiastri aw HELL NO ❌❌👈🏿

yourbff2: she is my ROOMATE and the walls are THIN 🧍🏿‍♀️

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, yourbff1 and 487,120 others

oscarpiastri: i just got wined and dined

view comments:

user1: two posts of the same bakery in a row?! yeah, somethings up

user2: the jig is up oscar! reveal your girlfriend

landonorris: ohhh, so that's why you were gone for dinner

logansargaent: L to you, because i knew where he was the whole time

landonorris: not fair @/oscarpiastri, not fair 📢📢

charles_leclerc: who is this lovely woman oscar?

charles_leclerc: hello?? do not ignore me

user3: LMFAO oscar ANSWER UR FATHER

charles_leclerc: it says that you are active on instagram, i see you

charles_leclerc: i just want to know who my son's girlfriend is

user4: girlfriend?!?!? what have i missed omg, i just left insta for a week

user5: oscar's soft launch era 💀 LMAO, we think he's dating a girl who works at a bakery

user5: he thinks he is being sneaky and subtle but he's really NOT.

user6: wait guys i think i found her @, its yourusername i think

user7: wait it totally is, in one of her posts, she's wearing that exact same white shirt

user8: and the bakery looks EXACTLY the same in both of their posts

user9: SKMSJEOAMSKK SHE'S IN THE LIKES YOU GUYS YOURUSERNAME IS IN THE LIKES

user10: @/yourusername girl stop lurking in the comments i know your reading them 🧐🤨

liked by yourusername

user10: SJEHLSHEILA SEE I TOLD YOU SO

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 28,991 others

yourusername: dinner with a side of formula one pic creds: my boyfie ofc 💗

view comments:

yourusername: chat, i blew up so much omg

yourusername: in my famous era i guess

user1: you mean your WAG era ofc...

liked by oscarpiastri

yourbff1: i'm single, and my fist is ready to mingle in your face

landonorris: so this is the girl, huh, she's pretty

oscarpiastri: HOWDIDYOUFINDHER

oscarpiastri: she's MINE to call pretty btw. 🤬😡💢

landonorris: stole ur phone hehe

yourbff2: rip my ass for having to take all these lovey dovey disgusting pics of them.

yourbff2: DO NOT BREAK HER HEART OSCAH 🍴🍴🍴

yourusername: DO NOT THREATEN HIM PLEASE 😭 (ty for taking these pics omg tysm)

oscarpiastri: I PROMISE I PROMISE TO LOVE MY SUGAR PLUM FAIRY SO VERY MUCH

yourusername: awww, i love you too my honey bear bee

yourbff1: and they're back.

charles_leclerc: omg guys i found her instagram @/logansargeant @/georgerussel63 @/lewishamilton

oscarpiastri: PLEAASEEE NOOOOO

yourusername: what, afraid to show your girlfriend off 🤨🫵🏽

oscarpiastri: whatttt, nooo

georgerussel63: i like you @/yourusername, you make oscar scared

yourusername: awww, thx george <33

oscarpiastri: not funny george

oscarpiastri: are we still ignoring the fact that you lied to me when we first met 🤬🧐

yourusername: are we still ignoring that you ALSO lied to me?!

charles_leclerc: kids, kids, get along please!

oscarpiastri: yes, father

yourusername: yes, father-in-law

yourusername and oscarpiastri

liked by yourbff1, charles_leclerc and 1,220,151 others

yourusername and oscarpiastri: hard launches, only.

comments are disabled

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

[elgaberino-mcoc]

April can't come soon enough, been waiting for this big green lizard forever 

- SuperDuperBuuu

(This is fan art. - MCOC Wishlist staff)

[dunmeshistash]

Does anyone else feel like they portrayal Kabru "cooler" in the anime than he is in the manga?

There's so many tiny differences that I feel like add up to a lack of the complex characterization he has in the manga. Small stuff like his facial expressions in certain scenes that to me reveal who he actually is behind his façade.

One of the ones that bothered me the most was this as he realizes Laios' true nature of a monster lover

In the anime he feels analytical/ thoughtful during this part but in the manga he's clearly more thrown off/disappointed with the realization.

And worst of all from the episode when he says bye to Laios

This is what we see of him as he says goodbye, his side profile from not too close and his EAR

And then he says "don't forget it next time" while posing and leaving as if it's an afterthought and not the main point he was making

This is how this interaction goes in the manga

His expression as he thinks about asking

His expression as he asks him to remember

He makes sure of it before even moving onto the exit. "Don't forget it next time, okay?" It's important for him and to me all these small expressions are important to realize that, it isnt some cool exiting phrase he just says, I thought thats what it felt like in the anime 🤔

And now on today's episode

Isn't this framed as Shuro seeing him as someone sinister? While in the manga this is framed as something lame edit: unhinged about him not something mysterious (Kabru looking at him moving away from Kabru vs Kabru moving away showing his back to shuro)

I might be thinking way too much into this but all these little details add up to me and make me feel sad that part of the complexity I love about Kabru is being lost. I was wondering if anyone else that read the manga felt similarly.

[onlyhoonie]

You? Maybe ༊*·˚ - psh

༊*·˚synopsis: it was love at first sight from the first moment for you. The boy you saw at the bus was the most breathtaking man you had ever laid your eyes on. Who would have thought it was the same for him too? the only thing that stands between the two of you together is that both of you are simply two idiots who have absolutely no game.

˗ˏˋpairing: ice hockey player! park sunghoon x fem! reader

˗ˏˋcharacters: enhypen, yunjin (lesserafim), ryujin (itzy)

˗ˏˋtags & warnings: social media au, college au, romance, crack fic, literally just sunghoon in denial but is still being a loser, enha members trying to be matchmakers (?), cursing and swearing, kms jokes

ongoing!

social media profiles

chapter 1: someone has a crush

chapter 2: your no. 23?

chapter 3: blocked?

chapter 4: all motor skills lost

chapter 5: we’re chill

chapter 6: princess treatment

chapter 7: the way to one’s heart

chapter 8: sinister bg music

chapter 9: dogless date

chapter 10: welcome back to the villa

chapter 11: wingman

chapter 12:

chapter 13:

chapter 14:

taglist 📍 : @velvetkisscs @jaeyungxrl @jinostooth @nyfwyeonjun @naviiy @coffeeprincejaehyun @driedflowwr @thenastone @dojaejunging @heeheesang @jungwonniee @oopshee @shuichi-sama @jjjajjaa @antonsgirlfriend @yoonjise @hearts4itoshi @sunnydays25 @realrintaro @mumeimei @hoonie-zzz @hoonatic @chokichips

[primejourney]

G'day!

Here is my entry for the Sept-Ingo prompt "Memories"! This is the one I mentioned as being in the works before (originally started for the "Freedom" prompt). I worked a long time on it. I'm rather proud of it, I have to say!

(...I keep telling myself I'll make a quick sketch for the day but wind up getting sucked into making a complicated piece instead lol. A good thing though! I think I'm making more finished pieces than I have done for a while!)

As I mentioned before, I think Ingo finds Pokemon battles comforting, even though he does not fully remember why. He can feel the powerful presence of past companions.

More comments under the cut

I hope the empty eyes don't make them look sinister. I was going for a bit of a "nebulous" look since Ingo doesn't' remember them fully (...yet ^^). They're sort of ghosts of the past (and future!). I also gave them determined but happy expressions - they love sharing the thrill of the fight and strengthening their bond with Ingo!

I wasn't sure how to draw Ingo's side profile, so I looked to @waywardstation for inspiration. I really like how their Ingo has a strong silhouette that still keeps that cartoon look! However, I now wish I had made his hand match that style a bit more versus looking anatomical. Somethin' for me to keep in mind for the future. :)

[artyandink]

‘34 château margaux

SUMMARY: Spencer never knew to feel about you. Actually, he did. You were a career criminal, but also a liaison for the FBI, which prevented your arrest. You’re cunning, manipulative, persuasive and oh, so seductive. Spencer was warned against you, and he knew it. But even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory couldn’t resist you. Even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory can’t help but lose control around a woman like you.

TW: mentions of smoking, wine, seduction, badass reader, s7 Dr Spencer Reid, mentions of organised crime, mobs and mafia, Spencer’s weak for reader the poor baby, Hotch slander, smut

STW: Spence doesn’t stop the reader from kissing him, marking, oral (f. receiving), brief handjob, praise kink if you squint, dirty talk but Spencer style, degradation I think, wine play (I think), temperature play as subtext, ass slapping, profiling during sex, threat of exhibitionism, light choking, switch!Spencer, switch!reader, pussydrunk!Spencer, slight overstimulation, fingering

SONG INSPO: Greedy by Ariana Grande, Acapulco by Jason Derulo, I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift and Make you Mine by Madison Beer

Femme fatales had a specific profile.

The "femme fatale" is typically depicted as a highly attractive and enigmatic woman in her late twenties to early forties, often characterized by a seductive allure that masks her manipulative and dangerous nature. Her primary weapon is her ability to ensnare men through charm, beauty, and sexual allure, ultimately leading them to their downfall.

While her motivations vary, she is often driven by power, revenge, or hidden trauma. Early literary examples include the biblical figure of Delilah, who betrays Samson, and Salome, who demands the head of John the Baptist. In classical mythology, Circe and the Sirens use their allure to seduce and destroy men.

The femme fatale's archetype is also evident in later works like Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, who manipulates her husband to commit regicide. This profile of a femme fatale highlights her as a complex figure whose allure conceals a more sinister intent.

That was your profile.

Hotch had warned Spencer not to get too close to you, because you knew how to use your everything, and you had a sweet spot for the latter. Not because Spencer really was a likeable son of a bitch, but because you found him more fun than the other agents.

You were a pretty face, sure, but you were also a genius. A Dr Spencer Reid level genius, but you were the side of the spectrum that dissolved into a life of high crime and corruption.

Instead of becoming a federal agent - or law enforcement - you were the trusted advisor to a lot of the mafia and mob population, and even that was enough to put you away on charges of incitement/inchoate crime. But you were useful, extremely useful, so you also then became the liaison for the FBI whenever the mafia or mob circles became involved in an investigation.

This time, you were, as the unsub of a case in Las Vegas, Nevada seemed to be purchasing drugs like M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. It was a powerful mix and the dose was enough to cause immediate system failure and then death. The drugs were being purchased from casinos which were rumoured to be the cover of Vegas’ mob circles.

Your hotel room was the kind of thing Spencer only hoped to see in movies, with warm lighting, patterned red wallpaper, mahogany flooring with underfloor heating, glass and gold tables, mahogany dressers and a huge king-size four poster with curtains the same colour as the walls. There was a liquor cabinet as well as a fancy looking cooler, and it was nothing like Spencer had been used to seeing as he grew up in this very city.

It didn’t feel like his territory anymore. He wasn’t as comfortable as he usually was around these parts. He took the couple steps in, having closed the door behind him, now standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Maybe you weren’t in. Phew.

“Dr Reid.” Came the voice that made Spencer feel like he was on fire, a perfectly manicured hand brushing over his shoulder as you walked up from behind him, having come from the bathroom that was no doubt as fancy as the bedroom itself. After all, this was the penthouse.

You lived it big as a career criminal.

You stepped out from behind him, lips that he’d unintentionally imagined on his body stretched into a smirk as you picked up a quarter-full wine glass from the table and took a sip. You were killing him, wearing a black silk robe with just the right hint of lace, which stopped at your mid thigh and had a neckline that had his eyes dropping briefly before he schooled them and gave himself a very firm lecture inside his head.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Again, that voice, the cadence of it, Spencer couldn’t understand how something as simple as a damn voice could have him so unbelievably weak for you.

Spencer raised his hand in greeting with his bravest attempt at a smile, like he usually did.

“It’s a case.” He dug in his messenger bag, handing you some photos of some bodies. “Someone’s targeting bank workers around Vegas. It’s a ‘drug smoothie’ of M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. Morgan dubbed it that. Actually, smoothies are meant to boost the health of the drinker and contain nutrients from a liquid base such as yogurt or milk puréed with fruit, vegetables or items in a mixer, so I don’t see how this particular drug mix is a smoothie— a milkshake perhaps, as it hasn’t got as much nutritional value beside providing substantial energy through the intake of sugar and carbohydrates.”

He paused, seeing the soft, amused smile on your face, the light of the room casting a perfect shadow on the curve of your cheek. It felt like you were ethereal. “Did I say too much?” Spencer said meekly, rubbing his jaw.

“Not at all, Dr Reid, I completely agree. You can tell your friend Morgan to change it and you have my wholehearted support.” You gave him a nod, your head tilted and eyes looking big with the way you were looking at him. “You have no clue just how much your knowledge turns a girl on, baby, no clue at all.”

Spencer cleared his throat, realising that he was veering off topic and also almost salivating at the sound of you calling him baby. Having to lecture his eyes once again for looking at your legs that seemed to go on for days and seemed to also be calling for him to grab, knead and grip. “We need to stay on topic. Hotch needs the information about the case, and you need to give it.”

Spencer couldn’t help but always let his mind drop into the gutter at the sight of you. It was a Pavlovian response at this point— pure, unbridled instinct.

He couldn’t help but notice that with the way the robe draped on your body, you had nothing on underneath. That kind of assumed information had Spencer reeling.

You waved a perfectly manicured hand with scarlet nails, dismissing the idea of maintaining professionalism. “Hotch needs this, Hotch needs that. No offence to him, but he’s got a lock on you, Dr Reid. Enjoy for a night, let your hair down.”

“Well, t-the phrase ‘let your hair down’ originally was meant literally back in 1850, which was its first recorded usage but it has its roots in the 17th century. It was taken literally because women wore their hair pinned up in public, but the meaning of the phrase was to ‘get familiar’.”

Oh.

“Sorry, I can’t.” Spencer added hurriedly, searching for a notebook and pen in his bag. Licking his lips subtly at the sight of your v-neck and the way your hair framed your face. The curve of that pretty neck he wanted to kiss and lavish so it made those pretty lips fall open—

Jesus, keep it together.

“Anyway, do you want some wine?” You asked, tapping the bottle. “‘34 Château Margaux. This hotel really does have good taste.”

“I don’t drink on the job.” Spencer answered coolly. “And definitely not with criminals.” He would had Hotch not warned him— bad Spencer.”

You pouted, feigning upset. “That just breaks my heart. Putting my job against me? I’m only the advisor to some very powerful forty-and-above men who want some sexual gratification and overall ego boosts and also carry some lovely baggage with mommy issues written all over it. They want a pretty face to spill their secrets to, I give them that and get some cash in return.”

You saw the look on his face. “I’m not apologising for being a career woman.”

“Yet you liaise with the FBI about all that these forty-or-older sexually frustrated men tell you.” He countered quickly, firmly looking you in the eye. Not down at your lips, not at your tits, nor your thighs.

Spencer shook his head in exasperation, even though a shiver ran down his spine at how you advanced towards him, undoing his tie with a practiced hand. “What- ma’am, you can’t do that—”

“Ma’am?” You laughed, getting the maroon tie off and dropping it to the floor, unbuttoning his collar deftly. “Jesus, sweetie, that makes me feel old. Call me by my name, don’t be shy.”

Your name slipped off his tongue in barely a whisper, and became his only known prayer when he felt the warmth of your hands through his shirt, sliding up and up until the searing heat ran over his neck, resting in his hair and trailing down his arm, your nose brushing his before slotting in place.

Oh, God, he thought as you took his hand in your own soft one and guided it to press against your thigh, the fingertips of his index, middle and ring finger feeling silk while his palm, thumb and fifth finger felt smooth, creamy skin.

Oh, fuck, he thought as your lips got close enough to his to be a teasing venture into the cracks in his walls and defences that he’d flimsily put up against you.

“I’ll give you the information you need.” You said softly, in a way that had Spencer’s breath hitching. He should have looked away. He should’ve removed his hand from your thigh, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He was stuck like that, entranced by you. “You just need to let loose for me. For one night, I’m all yours. Drop that professionalism, Dr Reid. Let yourself go.”

“You’re a career criminal.” Spencer murmured, his hand beginning to rub your thigh, gripping slightly at the end of the downward stroke. Bad hand.

“Semantics.” You smirked, biting your lip— oh, hell, that did nothing for his self control. It made him want to kiss those lips until they bruised or swelled, until they numbed. His hand on your thigh made his tongue long to devour your pussy. The way you were looking him made him feel like he was merely a puppet on strings. “Come on, Dr Reid. Don’t deny yourself a good time, hm?”

Spencer would’ve answered, but then your lips pressed against his, and suddenly, he had clarity. That this was wrong, so very wrong. But it felt so damn good. His hand now kneading your thigh was wrong but felt electric.

He pulled back, but his mouth didn’t need to do the chasing that they ached to do. You did it for him, silencing any bubbling protest. You kissed him for the sake of coaxing him to give in, to just kiss and touch until his lips and conscience went deliciously numb.

“We can’t-” He felt your lips against his, a hum replacing his words, unknowingly stepping back towards the bed. Or maybe he knew. “We - mm - Hotch will - mhm—”

“Baby, what Aaron Hotchner doesn’t know what hurt him.” You murmured, pushing him back onto the bed. Spencer fell back without a protest, taking you in, especially as you straddled his lean form that had scooted up the bed, set his messenger bag aside and began popping the buttons of his shirt while grazing his lips with your own, teasing him, taunting him and daring him to let go as you rolled your hips slow and steady against his.

A grinding motion that drove him insane and made him moan and gasp. The fabric of his trousers really did nothing to alleviate the friction and pressure.

Spencer’s hands shot to your hips, unknowingly helping you and guiding your movements under the guise of getting you off him. “Ma’am, I mean—” He whimpered your name instead of saying it like a normal guy would, “please, d-don’t—”

Saying don’t stop was the intention, but he held himself back with the rapidly fraying thread of control. His eyes screwed shut then opened wide with a gasp, wanting to lose himself in you.

He wondered if this was his state with every woman or just you.

Definitely you was the answer when you took your mostly empty glass of wine, pouring the remaining contents over his chest. Your cold hand cupped the side of his neck, a shiver flitting over his warm skin as you then bent forward, lapping up the liquid from his chest. Sucking, drinking the earthy-noted wine with a suspiciously high efficiency. A moan that even surprised him left his mouth when you ground down against him again, your tongue on his skin, and he never hated his trousers more than right this moment as the fabric strained against his clothed need.

He loathed them when you reached for the sash of your robe, untying the waves of tantalising silk fell off your shoulders and over the side of the bed, revealing nothing underneath.

His mouth went dry.

He swallowed.

He snapped.

Within a second, you were flipped over, Spencer’s lips crashing down on yours as he kicked his shoes off, toed his socks off as he kissed you like he was going feral, hand tangling in your hair as he practically rutted against you, hard and fast and oh, so relieving.

He was gripping your face, free hand pushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue and making the blazing journey down your neck, which you bared to him gladly.

“Is this what you wanted?” Spencer panted, sucking at your pulse. “You wanted me to lose control, baby? Yeah, you got it. You. Got. It.” He punctuated the last three with nips to your collarbone and followed up with presses of his mouth on the swell of your tits.

You couldn’t even think, just letting out moans and sighs and needy whimpers of his name and unintelligible sounds, which did good to satisfy his frustration. Spencer’s mouth enveloped your nipple, sucking while tweaking the other between his fingers to have you arching into him and a smirk forming around his temporary fixation.

He switched his attention, pushing you down by your waist with his free hand to keep you from arching up. “Sit pretty and take it.”

Oh, those words sent a hot shiver up your spine. And then back down again, straight to your already soaking pussy.

He let your tit go with a small gasp, his eyes zeroing in on the prize and prompting him to start kissing down your stomach and nipping at your thighs.

If you chose to wear that robe for another person in the near future, they’d see his marks on your thighs. His. That was a thought that had a warmth swelling in his chest and cock.

He pushed your legs apart, holding them apart with his elbows and biting his lip at the feel of your hand in his hair. Testing the waters, his middle finger pushed with no resistance into your throbbing pussy, which had you gasping and moaning his name, while Spencer groaned yours upon feeling how you squeezed merely one finger.

Spencer had long fingers. Imagine what that meant for all you ladies out there.

He would’ve began pumping it, but he withdrew it and began licking it clean, tasting you on his tongue and almost whining at how good it was. Ignoring your whimper at the loss of contact, he maintained very intense eyes contact with you as he licked one long stripe up your cunt.

That didn’t last very long. The moment he got one proper hit of you, his eyes rolled back, then closed, mouth fell open, and he properly got to work, drinking you up like you did that wine on his body.

You’d honestly never been with a man as dedicated to eating pussy than Dr Spencer Fucking Reid.

“I’ve profiled you, y’know.” He murmured, still lapping at you and acting as if you weren’t writhing, moaning and arching your back - a complete mess - while he was having a fucking casual conversation with you and being the little shit that caused it.

He paused to suck at your clit as if it was all casual and part of a daily routine, little hums and encouragements between words where he’d absolutely devour you and make it look like him playing poker. Easy. “You’re promiscuous - mmh - like Lady Macbeth, except without the - mhm - implied infanticide and insanity.”

Spencer used his elbows locking your thighs in place to spread you open and get a new angle, and god damn it worked, because while you were crying out his name to Jesus and the holy mother Virgin Mary he was acting like this was another day at the office. “You use your body to get what you want - that’s it, be loud, baby - and on all counts it works. You also know how to play into people’s - fuck - psyche. It’s what makes you a textbook femme fatale.”

His middle finger slid in again, along with his index - both ridiculously long - and he crooked them just right, reaching places you didn’t even know existed and hitting the bullseye that was your g-spot all while tracing his name on your clit. Again, acting like you weren’t a complete and utter mess by now, but you were too far gone to care.

“You have an ability to see someone’s emotional desires— now, for example.” Spencer glances up at you, his free hand massaging your thigh and his fingers working you, pumping in and out and making sure his thumb got your clit while he talked. “It makes you highly manipulative, a-and your confident demeanour makes it - so tight, pretty girl - easy for people to trust and confide in you, hence why you’re the advisor to a lot of the mafia bosses on the FBI’s most - mmh - wanted list.”

Upon feeling and seeing how close you were, even if you didn’t know it yourself, Spencer smirked up at your face, looking like the prettiest picture with your eyes rolled back, mouth open, hand holding the sheets and your cheeks as pigmented as they could go. “But you’re easy to read when you’re in a vulnerable position. So why don’t you be a good girl, and come for me?”

You came apart easily at his cue, your high crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, feeling him lap at your pussy to clean you up— or so you thought. He actually didn’t stop, murmuring something about “one more” as his brow furrowed in concentration, really zeroing in on his target.

Not stopping, not letting up.

You were pretty sure you saw God and his army of angels frowning upon the sinful deed you two were partaking in, and how you were partaking of each other, while Spencer continued to steal your thoughts with that damn talented tongue and fingers.

He moaned at the taste of you, feeling drunk on everything you were giving him. Your sounds, the feel of you, the taste of you— you consumed all his senses.

You were a forbidden fruit. He was eating it. Except he was taking more than just one bite of the apple.

When you came again after a few more practiced licks, you felt a lot more sensitive then usual, but the satisfied look on Spencer’s face told you he’d made you come twice instead of once.

Testament to his skill, you guessed.

Spencer wiped all the residue of you off his chin with his thumb, licking his lips and quickly sucking the slick off by popping the thumb into his mouth. He made it look like his everyday Tuesday.

Then he undid his belt buckle and dropped it aside, his trousers and boxers going with as he pressed kiss after kiss to your body on the slow journey up. Spencer groaned as your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb teasing the head before your hand began to move up and down… until he stopped you.

“Not right now, baby.” He chuckled. “Another time. Statistically, I’m fifty percent more likely to come if you do that.”

“That’s the idea.” You winked, but removed your hand off his dick anyway.

“I’m sure it is.” Spencer smiled, then looked around. “Do you have condoms? J-Just cause using protection during sex, particularly condoms, is crucial for several reasons, both from a-a health and social standpoint. First, condoms are one of the most effective methods for preventing the transmission of sexually transmitted infections, i-including HIV. These infections can have long-term health consequences, some of which are irreversible or even life-threatening. By using a condom, you're significantly reducing the risk of both contracting and spreading these infections to your partner. Second, condoms are a reliable method of birth control when used correctly. They prevent sperm from reaching the egg, thereby reducing the likelihood of unintended pregnancies.”

Then you pulled out the top drawer of the bedside table, which was full of condoms of all sizes. Which had him both slightly jealous and sheepish. “Oh, uh, thanks.” Spencer grabbed one, tearing the foil off with his teeth and expertly sliding the rubber on and entering you so fast your moan came in delayed timing.

“Fuck.” You gasped, especially as you adjusted to him and even better when he started moving back and forth at a steady rhythm, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, feeling your pussy practically mould to him in a way that had his eyes rolling back and hips snapping forward harder.

It made your nails claw at his back, which made him bite his lip and release it, claiming your lips in a hungry kiss. ‘34 Château Margaux. It had an earthy taste to it.

Your perfume was intoxicating, and he smelt of new books and a cologne that drove you mad. You also got notes of butter popcorn from his time watching Russian movies and his lips distinctly tasted of you and you only.

It felt like your claim on him.

Next thing you knew, he’d pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach and thrust into you again, his mouth latching to your shoulder and leaving marks as he took your neck by his hand, not squeezing hard, but just enough to let you know he was there.

“So tight. How’re you gonna look - shit - all those mafia bosses in the eye, huh?” He panted, punctuating his words with a snap of his hip while you were reduced to cries of his name. “When you can’t walk because of an FBI agent?”

“Spencer, fuck!” Was the only admittedly pathetic thing that came from your mouth, along with a whimper when his hand came down on the side of your ass, soothed by a rub.

“That’s right, baby, call out for me.” He murmured, sucking a mark under your ear. “Make sure everyone in this hotel can hear.”

You found yourself coming at the words, gripping the pillows with your eyes rolling back, Spencer’s own copying as he felt your cunt clamp down on him like a vice. His hand on your throat squeezed a little tighter - but he was aware that it wasn’t enough pressure to cut off an airway - with his head dropping to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the heated flesh as he followed with a few clumsy, shallow thrusts later.

Oh, he knew what he did was wrong. He just couldn’t help himself when presented with you.

Spencer pulled out of you, both of you practically spent of all your energy. You rolled onto your back, wiping away a forming tear due to your sensitive pussy being wrecked by Dr Spencer Reid, but it was worth everything.

“I forgot one thing.” He murmured, moving so he could pull you into his chest and kiss your hair. Remarkable how this man can go from a hot dominant to a hot nerd. “From your profile, I mean.”

“Yeah, Dr Reid?” You smiled, kissing him softly yet intensely, drawing a hum of contentment from his lips.

“You, ma’am,” Spencer cheekily emphasised between kisses, “are very sexually proficient.”

That got a laugh from you, breaking away to playfully swat his chest, which got a noise of surprise from him and a small "son of a bitch!". “Is that your way of telling me this was mind blowing sex?”

“That isn’t how you tell someone that?”

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