#criminal!reader

[gurugirl]

The Con Artist | Part 1*

Summary: You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you he finds it difficult to resist your charms.

A/n: This is detective!harry x crimina!reader / y/n | This will be a short series (3-7? parts). The Con Artist Masterlist

6.7k words

Warning: Criminal activity detailed (drugging, stealing, conning), smut (oral sex)

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The first time you remember stealing anything was when you were about three years old. From what you recall, you were with your mother at a dollar store of some sort. On the bottom shelf in one of the aisles was a pretty mirrored compact. It snapped close with a satisfying click and opened up easily for your three-year-old hands and so you put it into your mother’s purse as she was bringing you out of the store.

Being three years old, though, you forgot all about the mirrored compact when she surprised you with a toy she bought for you. The next day she came across the stolen item and somehow, she knew you’d done it. Because maybe there had been some sort of pattern. You just can’t remember stealing before that day.

But then you started stealing clothes from the mall when you were older. Lip balm (you became fond of the Chanel lip balm in Light but frequently settled for a Lancôme or Clinique as they were usually easier to snatch up), candles (the expensive ones to make it worth your while), pens, and lighters. You stole anything small enough to be taken without anyone noticing.

The only time you ever got caught was when your mom found the mirrored case in her purse when you were three. Even now, 23 years later. Here you are, stealing for a living. The man lying on the bed you are standing next to is knocked out cold. You may or may not have slipped him a little something to send him off to sleepy time before he could take his pants off, but that was the game. He wanted something and so did you.

Yours was a simple grift. Straight men are easy. All you have to do is hang out in really nice clubs and bars near the nice neighborhoods. Dress a certain way. Talk a certain way. Compliment the man. Compliment him some more. Laugh at his attempt at flirting and play dumb. Definitely laugh at his jokes. Act dumb. Sit alone. Bat your lashes. That kind of bullshit.

The man would need to be rich, or if not rich, showy and cocky (because how fucking annoying is a showy cocky asshole with nothing to actually show for it?). You typically looked for a nice watch (Rolex is easy to spot, but the really expensive watches are Audemars Piguet and Patek Philippe). He’d need to be a little drunk. Or even desperate is fine. Sometimes drunk isn’t necessary. You just need to get him to take you to his home. Never to yours. Married men would suggest a hotel. And that could work too, under the right circumstances. And married men were special because they’d never report you.

Then, once you’re in his house you suggest a nightcap, a drink for your nerves you say (a lie because you don’t drink alcohol) and insist on making them yourself. Drop in enough crushed benzos and voila. The man thinks he’s about to get laid but he falls asleep fast and you steal his cash and his jewelry. And sometimes a few other things you can take with you on your way out the door.

Tonight’s meal is a married man but his wife is out of town. The “house” is in Hope Ranch but it’s more like a mansion. It’s massive and the guy is loaded. That’s all you care about.

You served him a gin and tonic with a lime wedge and 10 mg of crushed-up benzos. You poured yourself a tonic and chucked a lime in for good measure, so it looked like you were drinking too.

He brought you to his room after drinking his glass of nighty-night juice and you could tell it was taking effect. He fell asleep almost too quickly. But who were you to complain? His wallet was lying on the coffee table and his Rolex was an easy snag. You were out the door in less than an hour. He only had about $50 cash in his wallet but the Rolex would be worth around nine thousand dollars for you. You loved the dumbasses with the expensive watches the most. Rolexes are a dime a dozen. They’re the easiest to come by and the easiest to get rid of.

By the time you get back to your little studio, it’s past 3 am. You don’t live in the best part of LA but it’s also not bad. Koreatown has its moments. The supposedly haunted Gaylord Apartments studio has been your home for the last two years. You truly could afford something nicer but it’s hard to imagine paying more than you already do for rent. It’s a waste of money really. You’re living fine and saving your cash. You don’t want to be a thief all your life. Just for long enough to save up so you can go anywhere you want, buy a house for cash, and live out your days as an old maid who never found love. Because love seems like a pipe dream at this point.

Men suck. But then again, you’re not really much of a catch yourself. So ending up alone is probably your true calling. You’ll buy a bunch of books, get a few cats, maybe grow a garden and wear robes all day long. Drink cold juice and watch murder mysteries at night with your cats all curled up around you, and fall asleep on your couch because sleeping alone in your bed just sounds depressing. And maybe you’ll do some traveling. Who knows? You’ve amassed a decent amount of money. You’ve given yourself until 30 and then you’ll call it quits. Just a few more years.

At the Gaylord, you’re not allowed to have pets, but you can have fish. You crouch down to look into your aquarium and see that Buster and Barry are fine. They usually are. They’re pea puffers. Kind of cute really. But Buster killed his first mate, Brenda.  When you introduced Barry, Buster left him alone. Buster and Barry don’t usually interact which is why they get along. You had no idea that puffers could tend to be aggressive but when Brenda was found belly up in the 10-gallon tank one Thursday evening after you’d secured a nice Saint Laurent coat and a Royal Oak Piguet, you were quite disappointed. You’d had such a good night too. The Royal Oak was worth close to $60 thousand. And the coat was just an extra on your way out the door. But poor Brenda. Dead in a day.

You turned off their fish tank light, “Goodnight boys.”

At night, when you were alone in your bed you’d think about the things you’d done. You never really found guilt anytime you thought back. You did feel like what you were doing was wrong, though. You knew that much, you just didn’t feel that bad about any of it, though. You’d made yourself a nice small fortune and you did it doing something you loved. Why did you love stealing from unsuspecting idiot men?

Who knows?

You had a mostly-typical upbringing. Your mom and dad split when you were five and you saw your dad every other weekend like most of your friends with their dads.

Your mom was a good mom. She took care of you. Loved you. Protected you. Encouraged you.

You didn’t have an unusual childhood. Others who had it far worse turned out normal. You had no excuse. No trauma to point at. No mental health problems ran in the family. No vendetta against men. Nothing to prove.

You just liked it. There was a thrill that came with it. And the better you got at it, the more fun it was. And you loathed the idea of working a regular job somewhere earning a living wage. A living wage. What a joke. You were earning like a CEO and not once did you ever have to put out for anyone you didn’t want to. Everything was on your terms.

You could sleep in as late as you wanted. Skip a day of work if you chose, never needing to call anyone to tell them you were taking a sick day. You could do two in one day if you were on a roll. Or you could abandon ship if the man you started chatting up turned out to be someone you could actually see yourself fucking. Because you did draw the line there.

If you started to become interested in the guy, or he was attractive enough, and he invited you back to his place you would have a choice to make. You could stay the course, drug him, and then steal his watch and his money or you could just have a fun night with an attractive man at his place. You wouldn’t steal from someone you’d slept with. You had some moral boundaries.

You were nice, though. You weren’t like a bitch to anyone. But I guess ask any of the men you’d stolen from and they’d have a different mind about that. You had a small handful of friends. You didn’t like letting people get too close, though. For good reason. Because when you got close it became harder to hide your dark secret. People always asked what you did for a living. What an intrusive question to ask anyone. You always made up some lie about working online and inputting data for a medical corporation. Something that pointed to you making just enough money that would explain your nice clothes and expensive purses, but also that would have you home during the day.

Your best friend, Raechel knows your secret. Probably your mom as well. Also, Josh who buys your stolen goods but that’s a different story. But that’s it. In the whole wide world, you have one person that you’ve told directly what you do (again, not counting Josh). Because you couldn’t hide it anymore. And Raechel is still around. She’s your best friend. Now your mom, well, you never told her but she knows. She’s not dumb.

Bright and early the next morning, if you can consider 11:30 am bright and early, you headed to your dealer slash fence man, Josh, after shooting him a message that you were on your way.

You had with you the white dial Rolex Daytona you took off of whatever his name was the night before. Now, this watch is worth about $20,000 but Josh would take a big cut of the profit because he was the one going and selling the stolen item, he needed to make money from the deal too. Plus whoever he sold it to wouldn’t pay him the full $20,000 either, because they also needed to make a profit.

You met him in your usual spot. He took a look at the jewelry and searched for the model reference number to make sure of its value. Then you left with $8,500 in cash and a quarter ounce of Girl Scout Cookies (that’s a nice strain of marijuana bud to clarify).

The bank wouldn’t take big ass deposits like that at a time or there’d be some kind of flag on your account and it would get reported to the IRS (protocol), so you generally would only deposit $3,000 at a time. Which also meant you had a large stash of cash in your apartment at all times. You tried to space out the deposits. Had multiple bank accounts at different banks, and went to different branches in different locations but cash was difficult to work with at times. It was the only part of the job you hated. Dealing with all that cash. Especially when you preferred to save most of it. You usually bought yourself nice things, but most of your money you didn’t touch. You were serious about your future plan of buying a house for cash and getting lots of cats.

Tonight you planned on going to the Warwick again. The last time you were there was six months ago. You’d gotten a big hit with a B-list celebrity and you didn’t want to show your face around there for a while just in case he found you there or anyone recognized you somehow. Six months seemed like a good amount of time to wait.

You stopped at your favorite café and picked up a latte and scone to go. Then you walked to Liberty Park to drink and eat your breakfast slash lunch in the sunshine.

You wondered who would be at the club tonight. The Warwick was usually crawling with celebrities (lots of money). You knew how to handle them all. It really didn’t take much though. Look cute, act dumb. Usually. There were a few times you’d encountered a celebrity or wealthy man who was looking for someone with substance, but that wasn’t what you were going for. You searched for the ones who wanted one fun night and nothing more.

You were sitting on the concrete ledge near the sculpture and sipping your hot latte when a shadow appeared blocking the sun from your body. You looked up to see a tall man looking down at you. Instantly you sat up straight. He was very attractive.

“Hi… I was hoping you could point me in the direction of The Ritz Carlton. I seem to be lost…” he looked at his cell phone and then held its screen to your face and you laughed, placing your latte down next to you.

You stood up and smiled and noticed he didn’t have a watch on his wrist (old habit), “You’re definitely lost. The nearest Ritz is gonna be like a 45-minute walk from here. It’s that way,” you pointed in the direction of the 110, though it couldn’t be seen from where you were.

“Fuck. Well, thank you, I guess. I’m new here and went for a walk and found myself enjoying the sun and now here I am. Lost puppy in a big city.”

The man had thick, dark hair, seafoam green eyes with a dark green limbal ring, richly pigmented lips, and a jawline that could cut rock. And he was British. Clearly from out of town.

You held out your hand and introduced yourself and he quickly wrapped his big paw around yours and you saw the tattoo on his wrist. His clothes didn’t indicate that he was well-off. But sometimes it was hard to tell. Some rich guys didn’t give a fuck. This one didn’t. If he was, in fact, wealthy.

“Harry. Nice to meet you. S’hard finding a friendly face in a new city. Do you live here?”

“I do. Not far from here. What are you in town for, Harry?” You asked, keeping eye contact. You didn’t know if you should size him up for a job or see if you could get him to take you back to his hotel for a fuck. This guy looked like he could fuck. Tall and broad, deep voice, and big hands. A dimpled smile.

“Ahh, just work. Plan to be here for about a month. Staying at The Ritz off Olympic while I’m in town,” he smirked at you and that was all you needed to hear to know he was interested. Yeah, you’d fuck him.

“Is that so? For a month huh? Here, let me give you my number, ya know, in case you need anyone to show you around. A friendly face like you said…” you gestured toward his phone so you could put your number in and he unlocked it and opened up his messages app.

You were bold. You had no problem picking up a guy to fuck. You just needed to be somewhat straightforward. Your jobs were different. Playing coy was the game when they wanted to feel like they were in charge. But when it came to actually fucking someone, you were in charge and you wanted them to know it.

“Seems quite forward to give your number to a complete stranger, Y/n,” he spoke your name, wrapping his lips around the vowels in the most sensual way. That mouth of his could do some damage. You swallowed.

You laughed and shrugged, “Not really. It’s just a number. Now, what you do with it is up to you. If you’re bold, you’ll use it.”

Harry grinned at you and the way you nearly let your knees buckle when you saw his dimples was not a normal reaction. But Harry was gorgeous. You'd let him fuck you if he was into it. Absolutely. This man could get it from the top to the bottom. He was well-muscled and sturdy under his clothes. Something told you he’d have a big dick too and you’d love to let him use it on you.

You shook yourself of your thoughts and Harry cleared his throat, “Well, thank you. I’ll certainly consider calling you,” he lifted his cell phone upward as he spoke.

You were a little disappointed by his remark. Consider calling you? What the fuck? Maybe he wasn’t straight. Would explain why you found him attractive. All the hot ones were some shade of gay. But he was flirting with you... Wasn’t he?

Harry waved as he walked off and you sat back down to finish your latte and dry scone.

◈ ◈ ◈

You got yourself dolled up and tried to erase the way you were feeling annoyed that Harry hadn’t messaged you or called you. You gave him your number. You were rarely rejected. Unless he was gay… You laughed at yourself as you sprayed your hair to hold the style and then looked at your phone again. It was 9 pm. The perfect time to show up at the Warwick. It was time to work.

You were let in with no problem, despite the long line to get in. No cover for you. You got yourself a soda water with lemon and sauntered around the perimeter. Lots of groups tonight. Some of the guys watched you walk by. But you were specific. Precise about the men you worked. The young ones in the groups were probably spending more than they could afford to be there. Not your type. You moved along the lower room until you spotted a group of men sitting together. Now, these guys were job material. Men with money.

You neared them slowly, sipping your soda water until one of them looked up and saw you. You smiled at him and kept walking until you found a place to sit where you could be in the sight line of the man with whom you smiled. He had his eyes on you alright.

You’d give it ten minutes before heading their way. Just to see if he’d come to you first. Just to see if he was into feeling like he had the upper hand. Sometimes older men preferred more traditional roles and liked to be the aggressor. Oh, little did they know…

You swung your left leg over your right one, letting your dress ride up your thigh so he could see what you were working with. You smiled at him again and then looked away, pretending to be caught in the act.

But then suddenly someone sat down next to you, catching you off guard. You jerked your neck toward the intruder (this was not uncommon), ready to tell him to buzz off when you were met with the warm smile of the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

Your look of disdain quickly turned to one of excitement and you couldn’t help the smile that crawled over your face at the sight of Harry. He was in a suit; his hair was styled just so with a thick curl falling over his forehead. He had rings on his fingers and he looked like he’d been drinking a little with dazed-out eyes on yours.

“Y/n. I didn’t expect to see you here,” his gaze dropped down to your dress and your thigh and then back up to your face.

You mimicked his display, dragging your eyes down his frame and back up to his handsome face, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out. Felt like a good night to have some fun.”

The man you’d scoped, was long forgotten as you and Harry began to chat. He was alone at Warwick. Like you. And he was hot. He was clearly a bit tipsy with the way he was so loose with touching your arm and your hand, the way he’d pause his eyes at your lips as you spoke.

The thing that really got you worked up was how he’d lean in to speak into your ear so you could hear him. It was necessary to do because the club was so loud, but you fucking loved having him so close you could smell him and feel his voice vibrating off your ear.

“You look amazing,” he said as he plucked at the hem of your short dress, his fingers brushing against the skin on your thigh as he did so. Probably on purpose. Definitely on purpose.

You decided he’d be worth the work raincheck. You’d let him fuck you. And it seemed like that’s just what he wanted when his eyes settled on yours and he looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked. You were a-okay with abandoning ship for a hot night with Harry. Work could wait. This man before you, flirting with you and watching your lips as you spoke was ripe for the taking. You didn’t want to miss the chance to try him out in the sack.

Just like he said, the taxi stopped at The Ritz-Carlton on Olympic and he took you up to his room. In the taxi on the way to his hotel, he scooped his arm behind your back and pulled you into his side, brushed your hair from your neck, and put his mouth next to your ear, “You sure you want to do this?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Yeah, that happened. That never happens. Not to you. You were the one making men’s breath hitch. But Harry had some kind of natural charm about him that matched your own energy. A panty-dropper. But it helped that he was so goddamn fine with a deep British accent and dazzling eyes.

The room didn’t appear to have been slept in, but that’s probably due to the strict housekeeping staff taking care to clean up behind their guests.

You kicked your heels off near the door and Harry walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your front. He kissed your neck first. You were admittedly caught off guard by his energy. He was quite forward and confident.

You leaned your head to the side and smiled when you felt him in your back, poking you with what you knew was going to be a big cock. He was already very turned on.

You turned in his arms to face him and slid your hands up to his shoulders and kept your eyes on his, “I don’t usually do things like this…” you spoke innocently.

Harry tilted his head to the side and smirked. The look on his face said he didn’t believe you, “Me neither.” You certainly didn’t believe him.

You lifted yourself upward on your toes and pressed your mouth to his. You had had enough of the back and forth. It was time to get down to it. Harry’s cock was hard and your panties were wet. That’s all that was necessary at that moment. Talk could wait.

Harry gripped your waist and walked you backward to his bed with his mouth attached to yours. You let go of his shoulders and slid yourself back onto the bed as he crawled after you. You grabbed his collar and pulled him down to you, lips locking together in haste.

Putting your leg over his hip you bucked yourself upward to feel his hard-on under his pants and you moaned at the bulk of him.

“Get your pants off, Harry,” you cooed as you palmed over him. Harry sat back and removed his shirt and there was nothing in you that was disappointed by what you saw. More dark tattoos covering his chest and his arms. His body was masculine and sculpted exactly to your preference. Firm with smooth skin and a smattering of hair at his pecs and under his belly button.

You moved your arms behind your back and unzipped your dress and let it fall down your arms. You were wearing a special bra that was sticky on your breasts, which you’d forgotten about until that moment. It was difficult to remove in one quick go because the sticky inside was super sticky so it stayed put. You sat up and turned away from him as he began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants.

Pulling the bra away from your skin slowly you looked over your shoulder and Harry was looking at you with his brows scrunched in confusion. You laughed and when you’d removed the bra lifted it upward so he could see, “It’s a sticky bra and it’s awkward to take off. Didn’t want you to see it coming off. It’s less magical that way.”

Harry spit out a laugh as he visually inspected the bra and he nodded, “Okay. If you say so,” taking the bra from your hand and tossing it on the bed. Harry was only in black briefs when he put his hands up to cup your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. He pushed you back into the bed with his lips smoothing against yours and he settled himself in between your legs. You were left in only your nude thong. Harry’s briefs-covered cock was pressed right over your pussy. He was thick. You knew he was something special down there. He rocked down over you and licked into your mouth. His solid arms kept his torso held up while his hips were pressed down over you.

You bent your right leg at the knee and spread a bit for him to access you better and he moaned.

“You’re getting me wet even through your underwear. Need something, Y/n?” His cocky smirk was warranted. You hated a cocky man but Harry had every reason to be. He was delectable.

“I need you, Harry. S’why I’m here right now,” you spoke in your sultriest voice and licked at the seam of his lips. Harry brought his mouth down slowly, his warm lips pecking and licking a cherished path down toward your breasts. He palmed and sucked at them. You arched your back and panted. He wasn’t going easy on your nipples as he pulled each into his mouth and swirled his tongue around your areola. His nips caused you to moan loudly into the room.

He moved his head further down and you knew what was coming. But in all honesty, you hadn’t shaved in a while. You were full-on bush down there. You didn’t expect to be getting laid tonight. You were on a job when you saw Harry at the club. You got all dolled up, shaved your legs, and did what needed to be done. But no more than what was necessary.

When he got to your hips you braced yourself for him to see your pussy in its natural state. He put his fingers into the band at your hips and looked up at you as he slid them down slowly. You craned your neck up to see what his expression was when he finally took you in.

He saw your bush. You saw him pause at your pussy but he continued dragging your panties downward. You held your breath when he put himself back between your legs and lowered his face to your inner thigh, planting a hot kiss very close to the curve of where your ass and your cunt met.

“Can I?” He looked up at you, his mouth parted in lust. You weren’t going to say no to head. If he wanted to get down there with your wild garden of desire and wrap his mouth around your clit you’d let him.

“Yes,” you smiled but felt yourself blush a little at the idea of being munched on while you’re pussy-scaping was nonexistent.

But he didn’t seem to care at all. He put his lips over your mound and went to town. Like all the way into town and back home again, then back to the strip so he could have dinner and seconds. He found all the parts that needed to be found under your pubic hair. You settled yourself back into the pillow and relaxed. Harry was a man who liked pussy clearly. He wasn’t deterred by the bush one bit.

Your clit was being given sufficient attention when he began to use his fingers in your crease, softly stroking you up and down until he placed his middle finger right at your hole. He prodded it in a bit and you looked down at him between your thighs. He had his eyes closed, his tongue lapping at you then you watched as his lips found your clit and he pulled at it, sucking you into his mouth and you gasped. He was good. This man was hot and he was good at giving head?

“Fuck, Harry! Right there…” you moaned your words, needing to let him know to keep up with what he was doing. He was going to get you off fast this way.

Harry moaned into your pussy and opened his eyes when he heard you and he nuzzled in further, shaking his head left to right quickly and slurping your clit just as he inserted a second finger. You felt it go in. Harry’s fingers were long and he was getting the job done nicely.

You arched your back at the distinct feeling of heat traveling from your groin outward. You slid one of your hands down and placed your fingers into his thick hair. Something you’d wanted to do since you first saw him earlier in the day. You just had no idea it would be happening while he was expertly eating you out in his hotel room at the Ritz.

You bucked upward toward him and panted, “I’m gonna come, Harry… please….” Your voice was shaky and your orgasm was beginning to blossom. Harry was making a mess of his face with your arousal as he dug in further, one hand holding you down while his other kept his fingers stroking your walls just like you needed.

The snap fuzzed up your hearing for a moment. Your ears rang as you came in his mouth, your body stiffening and jolting with each stroke of his tongue. You were sure you were speaking but your mouth and your brain didn’t meet up as you quivered under the man who was lapping at your pussy like there was no hair in the way.

You opened your eyes when Harry kissed both sides of your hips and sat back. He looked down at you with a grin as your chest was rising and falling quickly, “Holy shit. That was the fastest I’ve ever come from… that.”

Harry chuckled and got off the bed. He walked toward the dresser and you could see his hard cock pressing against the front of his dark briefs. He grabbed two glasses and a bottle of water and brought them to the bed. Pouring a glass for himself and for you. He sat down next to you as you sat up and handed you the glass, which you happily guzzled down. Harry did the same. You hoped he wasn’t washing away the taste of your hairy pussy. That would be embarrassing.

“Sorry. About the lack of trimming. I really didn’t expect to show anyone the goods tonight,” you laughed. It was so ridiculous for you to be apologizing for that. It was natural for most women to have hair on their crotch. Just like it was for men. You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. Maybe it was because Harry was so incredibly attractive.

Harry’s brows pinched together and he frowned, “Really? I mean, I don’t care about the hair, but you weren’t thinking you were gonna laid tonight? Looking like that?”

You shook your head, “No. Truly.”

“Well, you have a beautiful pussy. I doubt anyone would ever kick you out of bed for going au natural. Doesn’t bother me.”

You smiled at him and leaned forward to brush the back of your hand over his cock, “What about you? Do your trim?” You smirked.

Harry laughed through his nose and took your glass, placing his and yours on the side table before covering your hand with his and pressing your palm down on his lengthy cock. He brought his other hand up to you, his fingers at your neck and thumb over your cheek when he leaned in to kiss you.

When he backed away from the kiss he looked down to where he had your palm pressed over him, “Why don’t you check.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief but smiled and took the top band of his underwear in your hands and pulled at it, lowering the material and seeing the smattering of hair at his low stomach turn into a darker, thatch before his cock sprung out. The cock was a total distraction. You had forgotten all about the hair when you saw his large organ standing out.

Harry lifted his hips and helped you pull his underwear down. He was certainly nicely built. That was for sure.

You smiled at him and then looked back down at the masterpiece between his legs and leaned in to kiss the tip. Harry moved back, putting his arms behind him to give you space to worship him.

You heard him inhale a sharp breath when your lips came into contact with the tip of his crown and then you looked up at him, “May I?”

Harry nodded quickly and you stuck your tongue out to lick him up and down. You had a lot of area to cover with his penis but you managed to lick him from base to tip all around. He was very hard in your hand. Heavy and thick. You stuck your tongue softly into the slit at his head and looked up at him. He had his eyes closed and his mouth parted.

Just as you wrapped your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue over his frenulum he jolted his hips and gasped, “Wait, god… hold on…” his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you off.

You looked up at him and then sat back, causing his hand to fall away from your neck.

“I’m not going to assume you wanted to have sex, but I kind of wanted to,” he kept his dark eyes on you.

You hated giving blow jobs if you were honest and Harry’s cock was going to cause some damage to your tonsils you could already tell. That monster might not even fit quite well enough for you to really get the job done anyway.

“So, you don’t want a blow job?” You queried, just to be sure.

“I love a good blow job, but…” he looked down and laughed as he shook his head and then set his eyes back on yours with a goofy grin, “this,” he gestured toward his crotch, “tends to take a little training. Not the easiest man to suck off.”

You raised your brows and scoffed, “So, you’re saying that you think your cock is so fat that I’d have trouble taking it down my throat and you’re giving me an easy out and offering to fuck me with that instead of choking me with it?”

Harry barked out a laugh and nodded, “Well, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Thank God, because that thing is quite daunting. Would rather have it in my vagina than my throat, so thank you for that,” you couldn’t believe this man, but he wasn’t wrong. In all honesty, he probably got used to this spiel. It kind of sounded like he’d said it all before.

“So you do want to have sex?” Harry repeated to be sure.

You rolled your eyes and climbed over his thighs, pushing at his chest to bring his back down to the mattress. You straddled his hips and put your unshaven pussy over his cock and then kissed him as your answer. You rolled your hips up and down and Harry grabbed your ass and guided you up and down along his shaft.

There was a lot of girth to rub yourself on with him so your clit was being pressed into on each stroke. Harry moaned into your mouth and pressed you down harder over him as he rocked upward, pressing himself between your slick folds.

“Come on…” he breathed out, “I’ve got a condom,” he said and nudged you up. You stayed in his lap as he leaned over and pulled out a condom from the side table. You found it interesting that he had a condom there being that this was a hotel room. You knew the pattern of men staying in hotels.

Condoms would typically be kept in the luggage or a wallet. Unless the man was expecting company… But you decided to let it go. So what if he was expecting company? Maybe he planned on getting lucky tonight when he went out and thought ahead by putting condoms conveniently in the side table (which is odd for a man to think ahead like that). A woman, now she would think ahead and put condoms in the side table because women think about things like that. Men don’t. Not normally. It’s not a big deal, but it’s also out of character for a man staying in a hotel that he only very recently checked into.

“You okay?” Harry asked you, making you realize you were stuck in your head a bit.

“Oh… yeah. I’m totally good,” you nodded feeling a bit like you were missing something important. Like you were being forewarned of something by the tiny revelation you just had.

You took a breath and tried to push the sudden inexplicable feeling you had down. You wanted him to fuck you. Of course, you did. But what was that feeling you were getting? This sense that something was off? You knew to trust your senses. You had a good read on people and something was not quite right. And you saw him twice in one day? In LA of all places? A strange man from out of town? Yeah… something was off.

You put your hands on Harry’s shoulders and frowned, “I’m… sorry…” you pinched your brows together as you slid off of his lap, “I think I should go.”

Part 2

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Tags: @victoria-styles @michellekstyles @ssaama @sombrioinvernoemveneza @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @yousunshineyoutempter @the-gardener-31 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @dancinsunflowerkiwi @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @harrys-foxy @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @evelynlarue @chaptersleftunwritten @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysmimi @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry x reader #firstpost #harry styles x reader #detective!harry #cop!harry #criminal!reader #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

[slut4thebroken]

Punishment

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Nightwing x criminal!reader

Summary | When all of Nightwing’s usual methods for stopping criminal!reader are unsuccessful, he tries a more… unconventional approach.

Warnings | Smut, sexual content, 18+, knife play, blood (barely), masturbation, sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Words | 4.5k

Notes | There’s already a part 2 in the works but I’m working on other fics rn so don’t expect it soon lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Groggily opening your eyes, you looked around the dark room to try and figure out where you were. When you moved to get up is when you finally noticed your wrists were tied to the arms of a chair. This guy was thorough because he also restrained your ankles and the tops of your shins to each leg of the chair. You groaned at the sting on your skin as you pulled harder against the restraints. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” Your head snapped up when you heard the voice from behind you. Of course it’s him. 

“I’ve broken free before. I’ll take my chances.” You replied, continuing to pull on the rope. 

“Not from these.” He chuckled and you eyed the intricate knots holding your wrists down. 

“What are you a fucking Boy Scout?” You muttered, giving up on your wrists and trying to move your ankles. 

“Not quite.” He was closer now. The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you anxiously waited for your captor to show himself. You couldn’t even hear his footsteps. Finally you saw black and blue out of the corner of your eye. 

“I didn’t know vigilanties started taking captives.” You said, voice dripping in contempt.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He stood in front of you now and you looked up at his face, then quickly rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips. 

“I’m flattered.” You deadpanned. “Why am I here? Has Blüdhaven’s hero finally gone off the rails and resorted to kidnapping? What’s next, are you gonna kill me too?” 

“I would never kill you.” He grabbed his bird shaped shuriken and leaned down so his face was just inches from yours. “Maybe some light maiming…” He purred, dragging the tip of the weapon down your cheek. “A little torture- though I reckon you’d enjoy that.” He smirked, using it to pull your bottom lip down. Before he fully released it, he used the edge to lightly split the skin, making you hiss in pain but mostly surprise. 

“But that’s not why you’re here.” He said, suddenly standing up. He moved behind you again, then grabbed the back of the chair and started dragging you to the side of the room until your back was to a wall. 

“Fuck you, bird boy. Let me go.” You spat indignantly as you pulled on the restraints again. 

“Don’t rush things, sweetheart. That’s for later.” He jeered, taking a few steps back, and you scoffed. “But for now… I think I could use a little target practice.” You stared at him with wide eyes, trying to mask fear with anger. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spat, squirming in the restraints again. He took the shuriken in his hand and tossed it up into the air a little, letting it spin before finally catching it. You froze and clenched your jaw, trying not to show any sign of fear, but he practically had a sixth sense for it. 

“Don’t try to act tough. It’s hotter when you’re scared.” He smirked, then quickly threw the weapon at you, making you flinch and let out an embarrassing yelp. You only opened your eyes when you heard it hit the wall behind you. 

“What the fuck?!” You screamed, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. He grabbed another one and ran a gloved finger over the edge as he watched you. 

“If I were you, I’d stop moving. I’m a little out of practice.” The glint in his eyes made you both nervous and horny. He always makes you feel like that though. Your breath hitched as the second one flew by your face, landing on the wall a little left of your head. 

“Good girl, keep that up. Although you could scream a little more for me.” He critiqued you casually, as if he wasn’t currently throwing weapons at your face. And despite your pounding heart and sweaty hands, you could feel warmth pooling in your stomach. You wanted to blame it solely on him calling you a good girl, but you know for a fact that’s not true. 

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, watching him reach for another. Sick of the humiliation you felt from being so scared, you tried to get some semblance of power back. 

“You must be pretty sick in the head if you’re getting off on this.” Your faux confidence shattered the second the corners of his lips turned up. 

“If I’m sick then what does that make you?” He raised his brows as you floundered for a response. 

“I- I’m not…” 

“Sorry, what was that?” He held the shuriken up behind his ear, pretending to use it to hear you better. 

“I am not getting off on this, you sick fuck.” You spat, glaring at him. 

“No?” 

“N-“ The third shuriken hit the wall before you could even finish, making you gasp. You bit your lip to contain the sounds crawling up your throat. 

“So if I checked right now, you wouldn’t have soaked through your underwear already?” He smirked and you gritted your teeth. 

“No.” You decreed. 

“Well now you’re just lying.” The bastard looked so fucking amused- but doesn’t he always? Anytime you fight, he enjoys riling you up, letting you get a few hits in before easily beating you, always making sure to rub it in during and after. 

“Is this the only reason I’m here? So you can get off on trying to scare me.”

“Trying?” He scoffed a laugh, making you huff in frustration. 

“Why am I here?” You pressed and he paused, eyes roaming your body as he considered you. 

“That’s not the only reason, no.” He said simply, making you even angrier. 

“Why?” Your voice was firm as you stared at him, waiting for a response. 

“Clearly the cops aren’t equipped to handle you since I’ve handed you over to them six times now, and every time you’ve escaped.” You tried to ignore the way your core ached at how that almost sounded like a compliment. “And since I can’t hold you forever and I’m not going to kill you, I figured a punishment might do the trick.” You scoffed a laugh at that. 

“Really?” You deadpanned, raising your brows. He just continued as if you hadn’t even spoken.  

“But I knew it had to be a special punishment. One that would really resonate with you.” 

“And this was the best you came up with?” You replied in disbelief, poorly containing your laughter. 

“I haven’t started the punishment yet. I’m just having some fun fucking with you while also getting you ready for said punishment. Multitasking.” He explained with a shrug. 

“So what is the punishment then?” You forced yourself to ask even though you probably didn’t want to know the answer.   

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

What the fuck does that mean??

He grabbed another shuriken and you let out a heavy breath. He’s not going to hurt you, you tried to remind yourself. 

“I wonder…” His gaze moved between you and the weapon, before he finally held his free hand up to cover his eyes. 

“Wait-“ You cut off with a sound that was partly a gasp and partly a whimper when the edge grazed your ear. You stared at him in shock as he removed his hand from his face. “You fucking cut me!” You yelled, feeling the hot sting on your ear. 

“Calm down, I barely grazed you.” He scoffed and you clenched your jaw, trying not to explode from anger… and arousal. He walked toward you and leaned down. Taking your jaw in his hand, he turned your head to examine your ear. “So dramatic…” He muttered under his breath. 

When he released your jaw, you took the opportunity before he moved away to slam your head into his. It hurt really fucking bad, but the satisfaction you felt from watching a trail of blood fall from his nose made you forget all about it. He brought his hand up to feel, smearing the blood with his finger. You couldn’t help the smirk growing on your face. When he looked away from his finger to your face, his jaw clenched as he let out a heavy breath through his nose. 

“Fine. I won’t be nice anymore.” He stood back up and you could hear him grabbing the shurikens from the wall. 

“That was you being nice?” 

He rounded you again and crouched down between your open legs. He lightly dragged his hands from your ankles to your knees, making your breath hitch. 

“W-what are you doing?” You gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. His hands continued up your thighs, painfully slow. “What the fuck are you doing?” You snapped, voice raising in volume. When his hands kept going up, you started pulling on the restraints again.

“I’m seeing if you were lying.” He all but shrugged, glancing at your face before looking back down to your legs. His hands reached the top of your thighs and you took in a sharp breath when he squeezed them. You knew if it was skin on skin, he would’ve been digging his nails into them. 

“Kidnapping and now rape? Didn’t know you had it in you.” You said breathlessly, making him release a low chuckle. 

“Always so dramatic.” His finger brushed your heat and you choked on a gasp. Finally he removed his hands and you let out a heavy breath. He quickly untied the knots on your legs and then moved to your wrists. When you were sitting there, now fully free, he rose to his feet and took a step back. 

“Go ahead. Leave.” You stared at him in confusion as his words repeated in your head. 

“What?” 

“If you really don’t want to be here, then leave.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You tentatively got to your feet as you rubbed your sore wrists. You took a small step away from him, never letting your gaze leave him. 

“What are you playing at?” You narrowed your eyes at him and he chuckled under his breath. 

“Nothing. If you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s going to happen, then go. I won’t stop you.” You took another step away but froze once his words fully registered. Fuck… you are curious. And the bastard knows it. 

You know you should run, not give him a chance to turn you in again. But he said himself that he’s going to try something different. You just don’t know what that something is and it’s killing you. As is the growing knot of arousal in your stomach. 

“Tell me.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No.” 

You huffed and looked away from him, then started walking. You only made it a few feet before stopping. Letting out a heavy sigh, you cursed under your breath. This is a monumentally bad idea. Probably one of the worst you’ve had. You turned back to him and watched as he tried to hide the satisfied smirk on his stupid, pretty face. Taking a few steps toward him, you huffed and looked at the ground with a scowl. This is basically like waving a white flag and you fucking hate it. 

“Tell me and I’ll stay.” You said quietly. 

“But that would ruin the surprise.” He chuckled and you looked up at him. 

“I hate surprises.” You deadpanned. 

“Not this one.” 

He took a step forward and you instinctively moved back. He continued until your back hit the wall. Placing both hands on the wall on either side of your head, he leaned down a little until he was in your space. You bit your lip to hold in the sounds you wanted to make from him being so close. 

“Good girl. You made the right choice by staying.” He rasped and your breath hitched at the praise. “Now. I'm not done playing our game yet.” He smirked as he snaked his hand up your torso to the zipper of your cat suit. You let out a shaky breath as he pulled it down at a tortuously slow pace. You could feel your head getting floaty already and he’s barely done anything. 

“What game?” You whispered. He gave you a low chuckle and instead of responding, pulled the top half of your suit down your body. Your chest heaved as you watched his gaze trail all over your body. You stood there in only a bra, with your suit hanging around your hips, and even without the clothing, your body was practically on fire.

He pulled you back over to the chair and had your stand in front of it as he kneeled at your feet. You swallowed thickly as his hands burned a trail up your thighs to your hips. Grabbing the suit and your underwear, he slowly dragged them down your legs until they fell to the floor around your ankles. He didn’t even bother removing your shoes to fully undress you. 

He maneuvered you to sit on the chair, then angled your hips up so your heat was completely visible to him. You blushed and closed your thighs but he just forced them back open as far as they could go in the chair. 

“I don’t want to have to tie you up again, but I will.” He warned and you bit your lip and gave him a small nod. Before standing up, he dragged a finger through your slit, careful not to apply too much pressure. Pulling his hand away, he smirked at your arousal that was now very obviously coating the gloved fingertip, making you flush in embarrassment. He stood up and took a couple steps back as he looked you up and down. You could feel how sweaty your hands were as you gripped the arms of the chair. 

“Touch yourself.” 

“W-what?” You gasped out, eyes widening in shock. But despite that, your stomach still twisted at his words. 

“Do it. Show me how you make yourself come.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he widened his stance. 

“I usually have a vibrator for that.” You raised your brows and he gave you an amused smile. 

“I’m going to want to see that next time.” He smirked and your stomach fluttered at the thought of a next time. 

Tentatively bringing a hand down to your heat, you looked at him for confirmation. You didn’t get any, but his lack of response was confirmation enough. 

You let out a quiet gasp when your fingers met your clit. Wasting no time, you started rubbing circles over it, biting your lip to contain your sounds. 

“Ready to continue?” He asked and your brows furrowed in confusion but the expression quickly dropped when he pulled out his shurikens. Your hand slowed down as you prepared to object. 

“Don’t slow down. I said I wouldn’t hurt you but that is subject to change.” You hesitantly obeyed, maintaining constant, fast circles over your clit as he took a shuriken in his right hand, preparing to throw. You let out a low whine at the image of him handling the weapon and he chuckled. 

“Feel free to beg me to stop.” He gave you a small smirk then quickly threw it at you. You let out a loud gasp as you flinched and moved your hand faster. Before you could even say a word, he was already throwing the second one at you. 

“Fuck-“ You released a choked moan and quickly bit your lip to stifle it, but the damage was already done. 

“What was that about you not getting off on this?” He snickered. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. He tossed the third one into the air, then effortlessly caught it. 

“Look at how soaked your cunt is, I can see it dripping from here. Bring your fingers down, get them nice and wet.” You let out a loud whine at his words. Tentatively moving your fingers down, you barely had to move away from your clit until you felt your arousal. Your cheeks burned under his gaze, but it only encouraged you. 

You brushed your fingers through your slit, just barely dipping inside your entrance before pulling away and bringing it up to your mouth. You sucked your arousal off your fingers and practically beamed at the low groan he released. 

“Look at you,” He cooed condescendingly, “I didn’t even have to tell you to act like a whore. It just comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?” Letting out a whimper, you brought your hand back down to your core, this time slipping your fingers inside your entrance with a low moan. You immediately clenched down on the intrusion as your hips bucked into the stimulation. 

“Fuck…” You said breathlessly, watching his hungry eyes roam over your entire body. 

“Something’s missing…” He pondered, tapping the corner of the weapon to his lips. “Take your tits out.” He gave you a small smirk and despite this being one of the more tame things he’s said tonight, you couldn’t hold down the moan crawling up your throat from his words. You made quick work of pulling the cups of your bra down until they rested below your breasts. The cool air on your now bare nipples made you shiver. 

“Good girl.” He purred. Growing needier, you reached a hand up to play with your nipples and pressed the heel of your hand into your clit. Your back arched off the chair as your head tilted back, mouth open in a silent moan. When the shuriken passed over your face, only missing you by a couple inches, you snapped your head back up to look at him with wide eyes. 

“Look at me.” His tone left no room for discussion. So you did your best to keep your eyes open and on him. “One more?” He raised his eyebrows and you let out a quiet whimper. Instead of waiting for your answer, he took another shuriken in his hand and eyed you, deciding where to throw. 

“How about one more time without looking?” He smirked and you stiffened. 

“You fucking cut me last time. No way.” You spat, odium poorly concealing arousal. 

“Barely.” 

“You still cut me!” He was silent for a moment and you squirmed under his gaze. 

“Remember that one night? Gotham Museum of Antiquities?” You stiffened as you immediately recalled what he was talking about. 

“That was an accident.” You pleaded, even though you knew he wouldn’t believe you. 

“You still stabbed me.” He scoffed. 

“On accident!”

“How do you stab someone on accident?” He exclaimed and you huffed in annoyance at the arguing. 

“Fine! Go ahead and stab me so we can be even and you can stop bitching about it.” You weren’t serious. You knew he knew you weren’t serious. And yet…

“Fine.” Before you could protest, the weapon was already flying past you, grazing your bicep before hitting the wall. 

“Fuck! You fucking dick head- that hurt.” You yelled, removing your hand from your breast to grab your arm. He snickered and walked toward you, grabbing the shurikens from the wall, then returning to his spot in front of you on his knees. He moved your hand to look at the cut. 

“I’d hardly say we’re even. But if you apologize, then I’ll let it go.” He did a shit job at hiding his smirk and you rolled your eyes. 

“In your dreams, bird boy.” You scoffed. His eyes roamed your face for a moment, then he grabbed your neck and lifted you from the chair. You let out a whine at the loss of your fingers as he pushed you into the wall, holding a shuriken at your side. Right at the exact place where you had stabbed him all those months ago. 

“Should I make it even then?” He mused, trailing the cool blade up and down your waist, making you shiver. You reached out to move his hand away, but he quickly grabbed both of your wrists and held them in one hand above your head against the wall. His leg slotted between yours as he pressed his body weight into you, preventing you from moving. 

“Hm?” He raised his brows in question but the only sound you could release was a shaky breath. When you felt the sting on your side, you looked down to find a drop of blood trailing toward your hip. He pressed a little harder and that was all it took for you to concede. 

“Fine! I’m sorry, okay?” The pressured lightened, but he didn’t remove it from your skin yet. 

“Sorry for what?” He smirked, making you huff and clench your jaw. 

“I’m sorry for stabbing you.” You muttered, looking away from him. 

“I don’t know… I’m not entirely convinced you mean it.” He patronized, pushing the blade into once more. 

“Okay! Okay- I’m sorry! I’m sorry for stabbing you- honestly I am.” You cried, trying to move away from the stinging pain on your stomach. He removed the blade entirely and you let out a heavy breath. 

“Good girl. I forgive you.” You forced yourself not to scoff or roll your eyes. He brought the weapon up to your face, then trailed the tip of it down your cheek with a condescending smirk. 

“Now. Is your cunt nice and ready for me?” You nodded eagerly, feeling yourself clench around nothing at the thought of him being inside you soon. He quickly turned you around and pushed your chest into the wall, making you grunt from the sudden impact. You heard rustling for a few seconds, then felt the blunt head of his cock rub up and down your folds. He used one hand to hold your hips still, as the other lined himself up to your entrance. Not making you wait at all, he slowly pushed inside. You choked on a gasp at the burning stretch, then let out a whine as he just kept going deeper and deeper until his hips were finally flush with your ass. His now free hand also grabbed your hip and he held you against him. 

“Fuck- How are you so fucking big?” You whimpered, feeling his grip tighten. 

“How are you so fucking tight? I thought you said you were ready for me.” He groaned. 

“I thought I was.” You snapped, trying to focus on relaxing around his length. He slowly dragged his cock out until only the tip was inside, then forced himself back in. He repeated that slowly a few times before gradually increasing his speed. With each thrust, you could feel it getting easier to take him until finally all you could focus on was the blinding pleasure. 

His hips pistoned into you, each time making you let out short gasps from the impact. You clawed at the wall, scrambling for purchase as his thrusts started to speed up. His grip on your hips turned bruising and you let out a small whimper as it added to the growing arousal in your stomach. 

“Please.” You gasped out. No longer able to hold yourself up, your chest collapsed into the wall. You could just barely see him behind you with your cheek pressed to the cold concrete. 

“What are you begging for?” He wasn’t even slightly out of breath. 

“I- I want to come. Please.” You whined, knees starting to shake from his relentless pounding. 

“Not yet.” 

“Please!” He let out a dark chuckle that made you shiver. 

“You still haven’t figured it out yet?” He asked, amused. When you didn’t respond, he continued, “You’re not coming.” 

“W-what? Why not?” You whimpered, tears starting to well up in your eyes from desperation. 

“Bad girls don’t get to come.” You should have expected that. After all, he did say this was a punishment. 

“I won’t be bad anymore.” You cried, trying to turn your head more to see him better. “Please- I promise.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He said simply, making you let out a choked sob. His pace grew more frantic and it seemed like he was getting close- the knowledge made your cunt ache even more. 

“Please! I can’t hold it,” You were cut off by a hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up and against his body, his thrusts never ceasing. 

“If you come, I’ll ruin it.” He growled, making you moan.  

“Unless you want me to come right fucking now, you need to take your hand off my neck.” The usual attitude in your voice was replaced by an embarrassing breathiness. 

“And make it easy for you?” You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. After a beat, he spoke again. “How about this? You go one week without commiting a single crime and I’ll make you come.” 

“Why- fuck,” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut because of a particularly deep thrust. “Why should I believe you?” You said through a breath, making him chuckle. 

“Because I’m not a liar, baby.” To be honest, you didn’t have a reason to not believe him. But you still wanted to come right now, which you made sure he knew. 

“But I don’t wanna come in a week, I wanna come now.” You whined and he didn’t respond. After a moment, you mewled quietly, making him chuckle. 

“Good choice. Oh also, if I have to ruin it right now, you’re not coming next time either.” You mentally begged him to finally come because you were embarrassingly close, even with the lack of stimulation on your clit. 

His thrusts grew more erratic until he let out a low moan and pushed you forward into the wall, keeping you trapped in place as his come filled your hole. You took deep breaths, trying to ignore the way his breath on your neck, the warm come coating your walls, and the twitching of his cock inside you were all adding to your burning need for release. When he pulled out, your knees trembled, but he caught you before you could fall. 

“Good girl.” He whispered against your ear, making you shiver. “Keep being good and you can come with me next time.” You nodded even though it wasn’t a question. “Think you can stand?” He asked softly. Putting your full weight on your shaky legs, you held onto the wall as he hesitantly let you go. 

He dropped to the ground, keeling in front of you, then parted your legs and put his mouth on you before you even realized what was happening. He lapped up his come that was starting to drip onto your thighs, then worked his tongue inside you. Your hands landed on his head and you pulled his hair, making him groan against you. He made his way to your clit, sucking the it into his mouth for only a moment before pulling away. Your hips bucked forward, chasing the pleasure, and he let out a low chuckle.  

“Just a little preview of next time, if you behave.” He smirked. Before you could even think about glaring at him, he was pulling your suit up your body as he stood. He helped your arms into the sleeves, then slowly dragged the zipper up to the base of your neck. 

“Be good. I’ll see you soon.”

#nightwing x reader #nightwing #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #criminal!reader #smut

[ericshoney]

The Spy ~ Eric Sohn (YANDERE)

Warnings: Spy!Eric, Yandere!Eric, criminal!Reader, suggestive language, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, mention of torture and sexual activities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eric Sohn. A name known well in the spy agency. He was their top spy. Eric was able to get information out of anyone, he was flexible and reliable. Even for his young age, he had worked his way to the top quickly.

That being said, whenever a job is needed to be done, a majority of the time, Eric was called, especially when the criminal was an ex-spy.

The kitten.

She was notorious, always slipping police arrest and nobody in the agency could stop her. So they called Eric.

"She's been spotted on the North side of the city. Heading for the museum we presume." The chief said, briefing Eric in. The young male nodded.

"Got a new ruby in, heard it's pretty." Eric mentioned.

"Very and if our sources are right, she's going to attack tonight."

"Not on my watch boss~" Eric replied, winking at the male.

After gearing up, Eric left the hidden agency. Nobody ever questioned Eric's plans. Knowing they always worked, the criminal would be in custody within a few hours. However, the agency didn't know Eric's mind. How he had a dark side, liked to play and was obsessive and he had been following The Kitten for a while now.

"Don't worry sweetheart, you'll be mine tonight~" Eric chuckled as he slipped on his motorbike and sped off.

~~~~

As Eric arrived at the museum, he saw the last few visitors leaving and the guards locking up for the night. He parked his bike and walked around the building, but saw no sign of his target. He waited twenty minutes before seeing movement on the building's rooftop. Smirking to himself, Eric quickly made his way there.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it~" Eric called smugly.

You had turned around upon hearing the voice. You saw Eric standing at the edge of the rooftop. You got into a position to fight, making Eric laugh.

"Oh this will be fun." He chuckled.

You took the first move, jumping at him, landing a punch to the jaw. Eric groaned but didn't move. He ran at you, giving you a split second to dive out the way, rolling on the floor, only for your chosen weapon to slip from your hand. You scrambled to get up, but Eric was quicker, running over and pinning your body to the ground.

"Now sweetheart, I've been following you for a while and I've got to say, I'm impressed." He said, as you struggled in his grip.

"Fuck you!" You spat.

Eric laughed as you pushed against him. He laughed at your weak attempt. He kept you pinned down both your wrists with one hand, his body weight holding your lower body, as he pulled something out his back pocket.

"Now relax darling, we're doing this my way~" He whispered.

Under the light of the moon, you saw a glimmer of a needle, before it was stabbed into your neck. You groaned as your vision faded, everything turning to black.

~~~

When you awoke, you were in complete darkness. You felt that you were sat on a bed, your wrists and ankles tied up with rope. You wriggled in your binds, just as the door opened and the lights came on. You blinked, your eyes adjusting and for you to see you were in some sort of sex room. You saw Eric walk in with a dopey smile.

"Morning kitten~" He greeted, emphasising your code name.

"The fuck?" You called.

"Oh you thought I was taking you in, oh no Y/n your mine!" Eric cheered. You felt your heart stop. He knew your real name.

"Now lets get a look at your pretty face~" He added.

Eric walked over to take your mask off. You scooted back, only for your back to hit the headboard. He chuckled and pulled your mask off, a smirk on his face.

"Very pretty~" He whispered, running a hand over your cheek.

"Why...Why haven't you taken me in?" You questioned.

"Your mine to play with. I've followed you for years. It was my mission to have you as my kitten." He admitted.

He chuckled again, seeing the fear on your face, your mask no longer hiding your emotions. He kissed your cheek and rubbed your head.

"Don't worry baby, we'll have loads of fun~"

#kpop #kpop oneshot #kpop fanfic #kpop yandere #the boyz #the boyz oneshot #the boyz fanfic #the boyz eric #tbz #the boyz yandere #eric sohn #spy #yandere #yandere!eric #criminal #criminal!reader #requested #spy au #spy x criminal #au #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz eric x reader

[lokidokieokie]

Tangled Lies Masterlist

Summary: Loki and Y/n were some of the most formidable criminals of the gang The Avengers. On a heist, the one thing they didn't plan for happened: they got caught. And what's the best way to ensure they can't testify against each other? They pretend to be married. Only one problem...they pretty much hate each other.

Based on @deity-prompts' fabulous prompt: "A and B are part of a criminal group. When they’re caught, they pretend to be married so that they can’t testify against each other in court."

Pairing: Criminal!Loki Laufeyson x Criminal!Fem!Reader

Warning(s): mob!au themes, mentions of thievery, general stupidity, my bad humour, mob violence, possible gore, mild angst, possible references to death, lemme know if I forgot anything

Chapter 1 | Partners in Crime

Chapter 2 | The Marriage Ruse coming soon

Chapter 3 | Under the Same Roof coming soon

#loki #loki laufeyson #mob!loki #mob!loki laufeyson #criminal!loki #criminal!loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #mob!au #criminal!au #fake dating trope #fake marriage #fem!reader #mob!fem!reader #criminal!fem!reader #criminal!reader #tangled lies au #tangled lies masterlist #loki masterlist #loki story

[morwap]

hello ! can i request some sort of detective/criminal au smut with Regulus and fem reader where hes the detective and reader's the criminal ?

“cmon you just gotta come clean princess, i’ll give you what you want if you do” regulus said, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs. they were so close yet so far away and it drove you crazy.

“you tell me who all was involved and ill make sure you’re safe, i promise” regulus whispered, getting closer to your face with a stern look then turning to a fake pout when you let out a whine.

regulus’ middle finger ran up and down the crotch of your panties, teasing your cunt as your wetness was starting to soak through the fabric. your teeth bit down on your bottom lip as a ragged whine came from you. regulus’ cock strained against his pants as his eyes went from your face to your lower half then repeating.

you closed your eyes as regulus applied more pressure as he rubbed up and down on your clothed slit, you felt regulus get closer to you, his mouth on your neck. regulus’ lips pressed a soft kiss on your neck and his fingers hooked around your underwear and moved it to the side.

“you gonna tell me? dont have to give me much baby, just a few things thats all i need and ill make sure we can do this all the time” regulus whispered against your neck, more kissed followed.

his fingers circled your now exposed clit, your thighs closing around his hand as you moaned out and started to slowly grind into his hand.

“mhm! ill tell you” you gasped, regulus’ fingers slipped inside of you as you felt. him smile against your neck.

“good girl, after were done playing i expect you to keep your word okay?” regulus asked, taking his face out of your neck, his free hand grabbed your face gently.

“okay?” regulus asked, his hand stopping pleasure he was giving you.

“i promise” you whined before he brought your lips to his. regulus started moving his fingers again as you gasped in the kiss and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

regulus’ pace got faster, pulling away from the kiss and watching your facial expressions. “god you are hot” regulus complimented with a laugh before moving to your neck then going further and further down.

regulus was now on his knees, moving your leg to over his shoulder and using his fingers to spread your cunt for him. his tongue met your clit as you chased your high.

#detective!regulus black #criminal!reader #regulus black smut #regulus black x reader smut #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus arcturus black #marauders era x reader #marauders era #detective au #criminal au

[terrence-silver]

Hey hey! Been thinking of McCain lately... do you possibly have any headcons for Terry McCain x criminal!beloved? Would love to hear your thoughts on this!

---

― Yes, he will judge you. Of course he will judge you. He doesn't have an understanding or too much empathy for your particular lifestyle or your particular kind. He thinks it is wrong. That you're wrong. That the way you live is wrong. That you're endangering innocent civilians and people in law enforcement alike, one way or another, or at least that the people you associate with do, and that by extension, you bear part of the moral blame. That you should be apprehended, corrected and penalized, plain and simple. You're one of the many reasons this city is the way it is and the reason why his job is the way it is and if we're honest, yes, Terry McCain will be very much antagonistic and a full-on hard ass in the beginning. Just part of his overall personality, belief system and professional deformation. At best, he thinks you need rehabilitation within the system itself, behind bars, perhaps doing some sort of community work --- pretty much whatever the judge decides, and that's him being extremely kind. At worst? Well, at worst, he thinks that if the justice of said system fails (which, in his experience, it often does, unfortunately) and doesn't punish you the way he feels is due, that good old vigilantism can easily take its place and that he should just do it himself. As usually. Wouldn't be the first time for him.

― Now, it doesn't even matter what sort of criminal activity the subject of his fixation indulges in. Could be smaller thievery and pickpocketing around supermarkets to survive, vandalism, vagrancy, peddling narcotics, using said narcotics, sex work (and he does see this as a criminal offense), entanglement with the local mobs or flat out something larger, more serious that gets his attention much easier, but still, Terry will behave borderline paternalistic in a 'You live like this?' sort of way where he tries, at least tries to correct you and yes, it could come off passive aggressive to aggressive initially. He will not be a nice person to run into, let us be real for a second. He doesn't intend to be nice to you. He intends to set you straight and scare you into behaving properly. Be it by getting in your face, snarking you, threatening arrests, actually arresting, getting physical, taking you into custody overnight, writing you tickets, hitting you with fees; it really doesn't matter. This particular detective? He's doing too much. He's doing the job of an ordinary, day-to-day, commonplace streetcorner cop. Something that doesn't even pertain to his high function. So, why does he do it? Why is he on your case? Shouldn't he be after bigger crooks out there?

― Not even McCain himself knows why he does what he does, truth to tell. He thinks he's doing right by the streets of Chicago, the overall public peace and justice itself, with no task 'too small' for him due to him being humble about doing his work and doing it well (often by any means necessary), but truth of the matter, these are the beginnings of his obsession rearing their head, without him realizing or even wanting to admit to it. Whatever you're doing is a problem for the smalltime police, not a full blown detective, but he tells himself the police is overworked and overburdened and not always capable of doing the job it is meant to do so he has to step in. He has no choice, see. You've given him no choice. As such, he's always where you are. Always in your shadow. Always close by. Always seeping venom into your face. Always measuring your behavior. Warning you. Always there. If someone didn't know this man has a badge it would be easy to imagine him as a stalker, which is exactly what he is anyway. An possessive stalker at that. If the smalltime police he branded as 'overworked' actually steps in on your case he might actually step in himself, telling his own colleagues off, because you're his project. He'll deal with you himself. Nobody else will.

― Of course it is safe to say you've crawled inside of his brain and that even in his downtime he's thinking of you. Collecting files on you. Using and abusing his powers to amass intel. Making notes on you. Your associates. Pondering you even if he's otherwise engaged in a relationship with someone else. Pacing around his apartment in the dead of night just letting his intrusive thoughts run back to you, what you're doing right now. Right this very instant. Might just hit the streets to find you and track you down, feeling that this very moment, you could be up to no good, as always. Might just get into an altercation and save you if you're in trouble, justifying that he's still a good guy at the end of the day and that it is your own fault for living the life you do. If you lived correctly, this wouldn't be happening, or at least not as frequently. Now, what if he wasn't here to protect you? What do you think could've happened to you!? He's behaving less like a guy in law enforcement tackling a criminal and more like a concerned, albeit abjectly judgmental and difficult friend sharing some tough love to someone who has strayed. A worried parent, a worried, dare I say, loved one? His delivery isn't always mellow, but he feels his heart is in the right place.

― Of course his colleagues notice McCain has a fixation that just goes way beyond the professional and straight into the personal, and whether they call him out on it or not, he might just very much deny it or deny he's having the type of fixation they claim he's having all while still running amok whenever you're in question. At this point, he wants to rehabilitate you himself because he feels this is his cross to bear and nobody can bear it for him. He won't allow anyone else to bear it. Tries to have well meaning talks with you, one on one. Finds you address and breaks in to check on your dwelling situation. Tries to downright irritate and wear you down into listening to him for once because he knows better. Should he just cuff you, drive off with you and get you to listen like that, by force? Tries to fix your life for you because...he cares, damnit. Ensures you can't shake him off. The streets, lowlife dens, these lairs, hangouts and shady places are not fit for you. The company you keep isn't fit you, notwithstanding that his concern is peppered with jealousy because his company, he feels, is infinitely worthier. A good life is possible. Or a better life, for starters.

― Might start arresting all your ehm, compatriots out on the streets, one by one, if his beloved has any, to the point you'll be the only one left, totally isolated and cut off from the rest of them, with him, ironically, as your only support system and the only one you could possibly turn to. He's totally not envious, no. See? He's serious. Don't mess with him. He's not to be trifled with. Only reason he hasn't done it to you (yet) is because he thinks, no, he knows in fact, that you've potential. That you're better than them. There's a good heart somewhere in there. You don't need yet another police dossier besmirching your future, do you? What you need is an intervention. He'll offer you an intervention, sure, all while not being fully aware he needs an intervention too because he's fallen and he's fallen hard. Terry McCain has fallen for you to the point of bias, blindness and even starting to justify you in ways he wouldn't dream of doing before. Well, maybe you strayed down the path you did because of a bad childhood. Maybe the infrastructure is broken. You're disenfranchised. Urban poverty is rampant and offers little opportunities. The influence of corrupt people has corrupted you too.

― Fact is, yes, Terry McCain is in love to the point of complete and utter desperation, a moral crisis, an identity crisis and even righteous fury at your general circumstances, precisely because he cares for you so much and he's affected to the point of overemotional, unhinged rage at how you've been living before he's met you and after he has as well. What you must've gone through. What you allowed yourself to happen. What others around you allowed to happen to you. It is an extremely slowburn realization, but it is a realization nonetheless. He wants to scoop you up. Take you. Protect you. Look after you. Ensure you never go down a bad, dangerous or negative path again, not while he's alive and even if he's not. He wants to apprehend, put away and wreak havoc on every pimp, kingpin, trafficker, drug dealer, gang leader, gangster, mobster or handler who's ever used you for nefarious purposes out on the legal margins of society. Convinced you to do bad. Profited off of it. If Terry was your natural enemy before, he's not just a friend now, he's an advocate for your general well-being. Your saintly guardian. The thought of you not being safe or living a life that is dangerous sends to a dark, decrepit place where he could downright start killing just to ensure you're alright.

― He becomes gentle, yes. You're no longer a criminal or some common thug he can manhandle or push around in his eyes. Rather, you become someone who was seduced down a bad road. Someone groomed. Taken advantage of. Someone blackmailed. Someone whose situation offered them no way out. Someone in need of rescue. A victim. A victim he must avenge. He deals in absolutes. You're either the villain or you're the angel. His angel. No in-betweens. Just about adores you to the point he refuses to acknowledge any fault of yours and if he does, he finds ways to justify those as well. Delusional, much? Maybe. His vocabulary becomes infinitely more considerate and so do his actions towards you, at least. He ensures you're sheltered. Rehabilitated. Away from bad influences and in fact, away from all influences that isn't his own. He uses all the powers within his position to make sure you're taken care of and that he's right there taking care of you too, and in fact, that he's the main and only person taking care of you. Yes, his intentions are amorous. And yes, once this trial period is over, you're coming with him because he'll make you the honest person he knows you're capable of being. What choice is there? Do you want to go jail and do time? Hit the streets again? Terry McCain would never allow that.

― Ideally, whether beloved's criminal (or ex-criminal) or not, Terry imagines a very conventionally and traditionally idyllic life no matter how you slice it. Perhaps even more so if you had what would be deemed 'a worrying past'. To counter that, the future should be kinder, warmer, all the more normal to balance things out and redeem everything and yeah, he thinks that's a goal worth fighting for. Yes, he wants a Christmas Tree, he wants sappy, ugly sweaters and opening presents with you next to a roaring fireplace, he wants a home with you, he wants weekends at some cozy, crowded bar where he can sing and play for you, he wants to keep a pet or two with you, he wants you to never be in a dangerous position again, he wants to protect you, look after you, he wants your warm hands in his, sharing a coat out on a freezing pier mid-December somewhere, he wants autumnal, rain soaked walks and he wants you well and happy. Of course, forming a stable relationship with someone who has a police dossier might not go down that smoothly with his own colleagues and work associates but when he has Terry McCain, hotheaded and stubborn that he is, ever cared about what anyone thought?

#terry mccain #excessive force #excessive force 1993 #terry mccain x reader #terry mccain x beloved #criminal!reader #criminal!beloved #law enforcement #crime and criminals

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

#y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #konig x reader #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #konig x y/n #harry potter x y/n #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows x reader #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey x y/n #wylan van eck x reader #fanfiction #fluff #angst #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreaves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader

[roselilies]

#delusional til i die #x reader #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #tom riddle #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #the vampire diaries #the originals #max verstappen x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #klaus mikaelson x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #harry potter #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter x reader #fanfic #fan fiction #girlblogging #girlblogger #charles leclerc

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons

Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Keegan & König X Female Criminal!Reader (Captain Price, because he'll be like a father to the bunch, and König and Keegan won't appear until later on in the story) SYNOPSIS: You are a criminal who is forced to join and help Task Force 141 with their mission under the order of General Shepherd.

PREFACE

Maybe being in prison wasn’t so bad. At least, some inmates there were actually kind of friendly and wouldn’t be able to kill you in an instant. Maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself get caught and thrown behind bars in the first place. Maybe you should have run away instead.

At least there wouldn’t be big men who were trained to snap bones, shoot a bullet through your head, and gut you if had stayed quiet. At least there wouldn’t be big men chasing after your head if you had been obedient.

Except, obedience wasn’t in your vocabulary.

Most of the time.

Well, having men with big biceps, thick thighs, and broad chests ordering you around wasn’t so bad in a while, yeah?

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language WORD COUNT: 2.5k

"Have you ever heard of a mountain chicken?"

For the fourth time, since you had gotten on the road or rather, the sky since you were on a noisy as hell helicopter or chopper (whatever it was called), Laswell sighed. This was the first time someone had annoyed her this much to the point she had considered snapping your neck.

You had already told her a bunch of terrible dad jokes, dark jokes that even Satan would be proud of you, and puns you could think of, and only once did the woman laugh, and it was the most monotonous and insincere laugh you had heard in a while.

You were going insane. Laswell thought of that too.

No phone during the ride—not even a fucking radio to listen to old songs or news! You were used to listening to music while looking out of any vehicle you were on.

Like bruh, what could be more boring than having nothing to fiddle on during long-ass rides that you wouldn't know when to finally end? Especially when you could see nothing but the gray sky, snow-covered mountains, white forests, trees, and even more trees. There were some occasional odd-shaped clouds, bringing floating whites around.

You turned your face at her again, leaning a bit close to her, and whispered, "So, have you ever heard of a—shit!”

The helicopter shook a bit, making you again hold onto your chair for dear life. It wasn’t that you were afraid of heights. You’ve had your fair share of sky diving, bungee jumping, roller coasters, and stuff, but falling off in the middle of nowhere? Who would like that? You ain’t Tarzan to survive living in a fucking jungle. And the jungle Tarzan grew up in wasn’t covered in ice.

You ain’t dying until you see the ending of your favorite animes, manhwa, mangas, books, and dramas.

"Good Lord, what the fu—" You pursed your lips into a thin line the moment you saw Laswell's burning glare, ready to throw you off the flying transport and watch you break your bones when you slam on the surface of the earth, then rejoice when a pack of wolves makes you their dinner.

You simply look out to the forest and rest your head on the chair. “Maybe if you had let me at least have some papers and pen to draw or a book, I would have stayed quiet,” you mumbled and waited for a reply that never came.

Guess you’d just spend the rest of the flight, making scenarios in your head with your fictional husbands.

“Inbound in one minute,” said the guy in front of the helicopter, steering the wheel and making the vehicle tilt to the left.

You peered through the window by your side, almost planting your face against the glass to see where you guys were supposed to land. And there it was, a massive military base. Even from afar, you could see the buildings where soldiers probably lived and wide spaces where they trained or parked the vehicles they used for transport and battles.

You squinted your eyes as the helicopter flew closer and closer to the base. You passed through the gate and watchtowers, spotting some soldiers walking and some jeeps (if they do call those jeeps) driven around the land. It did not take long for the helicopter to touch down on the landing pad, and through the window, you noticed some people coming close.

Kate opened the door and both of you were greeted by the harsh, freezing wind caused by the chopper’s blades. The older women easily jumped down, but you remained inside, turning to the pilot and holding onto the headrest of his seat.

“Hey, Mister,” you said as the heavy noises around you started to die down and smiled at him when he faced you with a frown, wrinkles on his forehead and eyes becoming evident. “What’s your name?”

“. . . Nikolai,” he answered after a good couple of seconds and quickly turned his attention forward.

“Say, Nikolai, can you teach me how to drive this—hey!” An arm grabbed the back of your collar, forcefully dragging you out. You stumbled on your feet as you landed on the concrete, the snow created a crisp crunch beneath your boots and you grimaced as your hair stuck to your mouth. “Goddamnit, Laswell, I was just trying to make a conversation!” you shouted as she let you go.

“You can have those conversations later,” she claimed.

You followed her, swiping the strands of hair from your mouth. “Ah, shit, fuck.” You groaned in frustration as you felt a sting in both your eyes, making you unable to open them.

“Is this her?” asked Price, scanning you from head to toe, before eyeing Laswell.

“Yeah, she’s a real pain in the ass, I’m telling you,” the older woman answered with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what had gotten into the General’s head to have a criminal in the 141.”

You made no comment about her words, knowing it was true. Rubbing your painful eyes, you turned to the right, assuming Kate was there. “Hey, Laswell, you got some water? I got something in my eyes.” You let out a squeak when you slammed against a post, but certainly, this post didn’t feel like a post, and men in the military were trained to become brick walls.

“Who the heck would just stand in the way . . .” You tried to open an eye, which made it water, but you held it in to look up at the guy. He wore a vest over a tight-fitting shirt (who the fuck would wear a shirt in winter) and denim pants to pair it. But what got your attention was his dumb haircut that ruined his cute face and you couldn’t help but ask, “Did a rooster do your hair?”

A snort came from the other side followed by a cough.

“Really, Gaz?” Soap grumbled, motioning a hand. Though, he wasn’t really offended. He had heard people comment on his hair, but did that stop him from rocking the damn haircut? No shit.

“Sorry,” Gaz replied, amusement still evident in his voice.

At the same time, you stepped away and continued rubbing your eyes, which had gone a bit better. “Forget the water, I’m good now.”

“Told you, she’s a pain in the ass,” Laswell once again claimed, making you roll your eyes, and finally look around you. “Well, these are the men you will be working with from now on.” She nodded at the four guys standing with you two and gave your shoulder a couple of heavy pats. “Listen to them well. Otherwise, you know what Shepherd and I will do to you.”

Listen to them well, like the good dog you were trained to be. Otherwise, they would just throw you away like a useless tool you were.

Or worse, they would keep you as their trophy, to be paraded around.

Well, you could live with that as long as they give you lots of food and money. At least, you would be able to smell the shits your prisonmates took every single fucking day, get slapped every time you woke up, or get picked on every time you were out of the wards’ sight.

Some inmates were kind enough to help you, but they were in a different cell. Oh, how you wish you could say goodbye to those women.

You pursed your lips and sighed, nodding. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. I’ll leave her in your care, boys.” Kate waved them goodbye, before climbing back into the chopper.

“What, wait!” You yelled at her, which made her raise a brow. “Can I have a phone?” You flashed a big smile.

Laswell smiled back, but in the way, she looked ready to prostate you to the floor and command the 141 to shoot you until their bullets ran out. “For the last time, no.”

“Come on!” You whined, throwing your hands in the air. “You won’t let me use my phone, you won’t even let me bring books or anything to entertain myself with. This isn’t any better than being in jail where people make you eat the shit they pulled out of their assholes after dinner and make a makeshift knife with a fucking toothbrush they used to clean the toilet they sleep next to.”

You talked fast enough to make you sound like an annoying mosquito that couldn’t be killed in the middle of the night while people were sleeping. You phased back and forth as you rambled, exaggeratedly waving your hands as if that would make your points clearer.

It didn’t.

It only made some soldiers who were passing by believe that you were a mentally ill hostage the Task Force 141 recently caught.

But what would they get out of a woman with screws loose?

“She’s got no filter on,” Soap mumbled in bewilderment, leaning a bit to Ghost, who remained still. “I've had my fair share of hearing curses in different languages but a bloody detailed story of how people eat shit? Goddamn.”

“You should be more concerned about what kind of prison she came from,” Gaz responded in a low voice, shaking his head in disgust as they listened to you tell the agent about an inmate accidentally swallowing a roach.

“You two should be thinking about how to make that damn mouth shut up,” Ghost declared, shooting a glance to the side and wanting to get away as soon as he could. Had Shepherd gone mad to let this clucking woman out? Did you perhaps swallow a cricket in jail and that was why you wouldn’t stop being noisy?

Captain Price sighed and shook his head.

Laswell looked away from you as if that would make you shut up, but then she remembered the helicopter had doors. She slammed it close and breathed in relief as your voice got blocked.

What on Earth did she do to the General to make her deal with you?

She motioned a hand. “Get going, Nikolai, before she gets even more crazy than she already is.”

“Solid copy,” Nikolai replied, joy clear in his tone. He prayed to never hear a damn word from you again.

“At least let me have access to Archive of Our Own!”

The helicopter started, and the blades created an awful whirring sound as it slowly raise, bringing harsh wind to slap you in the face, to tell you Laswell wasn’t going to give you enough shit anymore.

You once threw again your hands up in the air in defeat. “Fucking hell.” Then, you turned around, remembering you had some new company with you.

“Welcome to Task Force 141,” Price said and extended a gloved hand to you, which you quickly received.

You shook it and flashed a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Captain. I hope to be . . . in use of you and the group.” You wished you could cut off your tongue as soon as those words rolled out.

You did not like being dragged out of the prison, so you could help some supposedly good guys under the command of a bald general, who fucking guilt trip you about saving you from behind bars like some kind of Asian parent. The old man even praised himself that he was your savior like a goddamn stuck-up saint with a god complex.

Oh, how you wish you could file his bald head with a cheese grater.

“I hope so, too.” Price turned and walked away, which was the cue for you to follow him.

You padded behind him like a puppy that found its new owner. Your eyes darted around in curiosity and greedily taking in the details in everything you could see at the moment, until your gaze shifted to Kyle, who walked beside you. You stared at him just as he stared down at you, and as he was about to smile, you turned away.

Cute guy, you thought, but you liked fictional men better. You gazed from left to right as you entered a building. There was nothing much to see but hallways.

Gaz’s eyebrow twitch. Did he just get ignored? Alright, he would let you get away from it for now. Got to be nice and show some hospitality towards the newcomer, even if you shouldn’t be here in the first place. But seriously, you looked like you had a jar of crack and a few gallons of Monster mixed with coffee up your ass to even walk.

Then, he pulled a face when he saw Soap’s smug look. This fucking rooster.

“Ah, right, Captain,” you began once again, after a short while of silence, “Laswell mentioned about you having something to discuss with me?”

“Yes, but I prefer to talk about it in my office.” Price turned to a corner.

“Oh, okay—I mean, copy that, sir.” You glanced over your shoulder, eyeing the opposite hallway from where the Captain was leading you four.

It didn’t take long until Price halted before a door, prompting the rest of you to stop. He pushed it open and nodded at you. “Ladies first.”

You tilted your head. “Sir? But you’re my superior and I’m sure gender doesn’t matter in this—”

“Oh, just enter.” Soap draped his arm around your shoulder and dragged you inside the room. “He’s the Captain and that’s why you follow his orders.” He motioned his finger in front of you.

“Ah, yes . . . sir.” You shot a glance at his arm that pulled you close to him, the muscles used to do heavy work, the hand that could easily grab your neck or face to make you shut the hell up or manhandle you. Then, you look to your other side, welcomed by his—sweet Jesus, how big were those boobs? You tapped your fingers on your thigh, fighting the urge not to put your hand on them and bury your face between them.

Ah, maybe being in the military wasn’t so bad.

Would you be able to experience this more if you disobey?

“I’ll keep it simple,” Price said and leaned on the desk behind him, crossing his arms. “You are to follow our orders. You are forbidden to be out of sight of the team for more than 20 minutes, and to monitor your movements, Laswell left me something.” Price extended an object to Gaz, which the younger man whistled upon sight.

You grimaced at the ankle monitor on his hand. “Can’t I just be as obedient as you want me to be?”

Price shook his head with a soft smile. “Sorry, young lady, that won’t do.”

Gaz dropped on one knee before you. It would have been nice, had not it to put the goddamn monitor on you, and if not Soap tightened his grip as if you’d run away. As if they couldn’t disable you in a blink.

For a moment, the thought of cutting off your foot crossed your mind, but they would only put the monitor in your other leg, and you weren’t fucking Wolverine or Deadpool.

You wiggled your left leg after Kyle was done, feeling heavier than ever before.

You were taking back what you said. This shit sucked.

And it didn’t stop you from running away the next few days.

Chapter 2 is here and the Masterlist!

You can also read the series on AO3 here.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #task force 141 #cod 141 #141 x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #kate laswell #cod nikolai #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soap x you #gaz x you #konig x reader #konig x you #criminal!reader #captain john price #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #soap smut #gaz smut

[in-another-april]

objectifying spencer is my full time job at this point

#spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader

[tvmblrluv]

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #photo dump #hot nerd #tvmblrluv

[gurugirl]

The Forbidden (Completed Series)

stepbrother!harry - in which Harry and you meet six months before your parents are married and there’s immediate sexual tension that neither of you have the power to resist but things are tricky and quite messy

Mint Chocolate Chip (Completed Series)

in which the attractive older man that frequents the ice cream shop you work at has been making dark plans for you and when he finally gets you where he wants you, you’re easier to break than he imagined - dark!Harry content

The Con Artist (Completed Series)

detective!harry x criminal!reader

You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you he finds it difficult to resist your charms.

Forgive Me, Father (Completed Series)

soft dom priest!harry x subby!reader

Harry is a priest with a dark secret but he's got a big heart and he's looking for someone special to share it with. When Y/n confesses her sins, he thinks she might just be the one.

The Arrangement (Completed Series)

sugardaddy dom!harry x subby!reader

Based on this request - Harry's wife proposes that he find a mistress to meet his needs in the bedroom as she is no longer willing. His wife has 2 rules: The first is that he finds a professional, and the second is that no feelings are to be involved. But both of those rules are thrown out the window when he meets Y/n.

A Good Boy (Completed Series)

stepson!harry x stepmom!reader (both adults)

Harry's got the hots for his young stepmom and she's pretty fond of him too.But they're both trying really hard to be good.Loosely based on this ask.

A Balancing Act (Completed Series)

this fic is commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo): Y/n is a successful artist with a good head on her shoulders and Harry is a famous popstar in therapy. Navigating a relationship with someone as famous and adored as Harry isn't an easy task but Harry is desperate to make it work once and for all. famous!harry x plus size!reader

Just For Tonight (Completed Series)

this fic is anon commissioned (thank you!! xoxo): Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it? famous!harry x reader

The Unicorn (Completed Series)

Based on this & this. 3 part very mini-series. You nanny for the Styles, but Harry and his wife would like to offer you another position. Everyone gets more than they bargained for. dad!harry x nanny!reader

Can We Start Over ? (Completed Series)

this 5 part series is commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you!! xoxo): From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? enemies to lovers

Ex-Boyfriend's Dad!Harry (in progress)

Harry's your ex-boyfriend's hot dad. But it gets more complicated than just that.

#harry styles #harry styles masterlist #firstpost #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #famous!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #stepson!harry #stepmom!reader #priest!harry #priestrry #sugardaddy!harry #sugar daddy!harry #ceo!harry #rich!harry #dom!harry #sub!reader #subby reader #detective!harry #cop!harry #criminal!reader #stepbrother!harry #stepbro!harry #harry styles fiction #harry styles x yn

[street-smarts00]

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 

~

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh.” 

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 

“Do you wanna lie down?” 

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured. 

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Y/N please,” he begged. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 

“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

 Here we go. Flood gates. 

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 

“That too,” he chuckles. 

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

part two

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

[ssahotchnerr]

okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??

i just… aaron’s reaction?????

the parentals

i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.

a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.

but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.

"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.

"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"

"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."

aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.

"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"

jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.

"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.

aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"

spencer flushed. "uh..."

"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"

"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."

"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."

"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.

"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."

you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"

"old."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?” 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

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