#the squeal that left my throat when i just saw this!
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Charles's post-race race comments (with LEO!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰) | Imola Grand Prix | 19 May 2024
🎥 Scuderia Ferrari
#the squeal that left my throat when i just saw this!#best post-race comments ever#charles leclerc#leo leclerc#imola gp 2024#fave
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𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃｜JJK EDITION
synopsis : can you and your older brother's best friend keep a shared secret? a secret of fucking behind your brother's back ... if not then your screwed.
cont. affairs with your brother’s friend, teasing, small age gap, fingering [underneath the table w/ gojo], blowjob, slight dirty talk, exhibitionism, mild degradation, laundry room sex w/ toji, bathroom bj w/ geto, car sex w/ nanami. pairings : toji, nanami, gojo and geto
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
the sneaky one who's always ready for thrills and fun because he somehow gets off to it. your older brother met toii a few months ago and they instantly clicked into being best friends, but the moment you and toii set eyes on each other- you knew something was bound to happen. he always had this lustful-like glint within his eyes which seemed to lure you in closer each time he stopped by the house.
"t-toii this is not the place for this." you slapped his hand away from your ass. you were wearing an oversized shirt with panties; loading the washer-machine with dirty clothes. "mmm why not?" he whispered in your ear with a lingering, yet seductive husk-pressing against your ass. your brother was in his room not too far away from the laundry room, about ten feet away and there's his room. "my brother is here!" you quietly shouted, the thought of your brother finding out that you're fucking his best friend terrified you - no could know, that was a secret you were willing to take to the grave. "if he comes here i'll just say i was helping you out with laundry." he grinned, tugging the hem of your panties. "but as of now. you felt your feet levitate off the ground, "can you help me with this." he place you on top of the washing before sliding your panties to the side.
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
the both of you were acquainted prior to his friendship with your brother. your friends were friends of his; therefore, you saw and spoke with him a couple times. though now things were different since he's became a known relative to your family. everything started off smooth, you and him exchanged glances here and there- but you never thought things would progress from there on.
your body pressed against his chest as you rocked back and forth on his length. "shitt angel." nanami cursed out with his hand placed on your waist- watching the way your breast bounced with each rock. "make sure you're watching out for my brother." you panted out as your arms grabbed onto the headrest behind nanami's head. the two of you were fucking in nanami's car since he picked you up from campus to drop you off home. "don't worry." he hissed throwing his head back, "he won't be here till evening." his hands began roaming your body, cupping one of your breasts in his large hand- squeezing around it like a stress ball before pinching your nipple. "mmph! nanami!" you squealed feeling the sensitivity sprout as you squeeze around his length. "ya gonna cum from that?" a cheeky chuckle left his throat before teasing you more.
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
the school playboy who just happened to befriend your brother. his reputation wasn't the great, but so wasn't your brother's sadly. the only reason gojo was able to get into university was because he was great at rugby. when he found out that you were a smart kid, he made sure to bypass his way into having you tutor him in hopes of getting closer to you and somehow it worked. the both of you would sit at the table and study together.
"gotta stay quiet if you don't want your brother noticing you getting finger-fucked by is best friend." gojo slyly teased, whispering against your ear. your sitting crisscrossed with your panties pulled to the side as gojo's hand sits in between your thighs as his fingers pace through your folds. "we're suppose to be studying." you bit your lower lip trying to hold back a moan with your head lying against the face of the table. "my brother went to get water." you warned, signaling that he could open the door at any given moment as gojo's fingers continued grazing your sweet spot. "well..." gojo opened your legs with his free hand, fingering into your cunt deeper- you muffling your moan with the palm of your hand. "if you don't have want your brother knowing how much of a slut you are for me. you'll cum before he enters that door." he taunted with a tainted amount of lust traveling through his raspy tone.
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
the smart guy who excels top of his class. no one would guess that his into anything physically sinful, but you knew. the day him and your brother decided to watch porn together, which resulted him with a hard-on- walking pass the hallway into the bathroom, seeing you at the corner of his eye was been everything turned left.
"do you wanna help me out?" his narrowed eyes peered in your direction- your eyes wide in surprise from seeing such a view that was least expected. " i-umm." you stuttered out, eyes glued to his crotch as you fidgeted. "it's a yes, or no question. he huffed, brushing his hair back with his fingers as he opened the door to the bathroom with you deciding to trail behind him. the bathroom door is closed and your brother's room is on the other side of the hallway, yet you still decided to join geto's sinful activity. "sit here." he pointed to the toilet as he unbuckled his trousers, freeing himself of his boxers. you sat on the toilet cover with your mouth pouring with anticipation as get closed the distance between the two of you. "try not to choke. i don't need your brother hating me." he huffed, pressing his tip against the plush of your lips as you allowed him inside you mouth- almost gagging in reflex.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji x reader#nanami x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#toji smut#nanami smut#gojo smut#geto smut#jjk imagines
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How about steve with the prompt "You look so hot today, babe." "Hotter than yesterday?" "Hotter than yesterday."
ty for requesting xoxo — steve always thinks you're pretty (yes, even in granny panties) (established relationship, fluff, 0.6k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
Steve knew you loved him the first time he saw you wearing his socks. He knows you love him still because of the underwear you have on.
It’s perhaps the tamest pair of cotton he’s ever seen you in, covering most of your ass and rising high on your waist. You’ve paired it with a freshly washed body, smelling distinctly clean and radiating with the warmth of your scalding shower. Wet hair, small shirt, no bra, bland underwear.
There’s something so emphatically domestic about the combination. Something soft and angelic, diabolically so. You might as well be telling him you love him without saying a damn thing at all.
“Have I told you how hot you look today?” Steve wonders from the center of the bed, curled in the sheets he hasn’t left all day.
“Uh… not since this morning…” you answer distantly where you stand before the mirror of his dresser. You kiss the tin of your chapstick (‘cause you hate putting your finger in it) and then correct yourself. “Actually, no— you said I looked pretty. Not hot.” You flash him a look over your shoulder, bare-faced and pink-lipped. You leer at him lightheartedly. “So you’re slacking today, Harrington.”
“Well, you look really hot today,” he atones with a crooked smile.
“Hotter than yesterday?”
He thinks for a moment, squinted eyes and jutted lips. Then he nods. “Hotter than yesterday.”
“You said that yesterday,” you scoff.
Steve tilts his head on the pillow, honey hair as wild as his eyes. He smiles, lopsided and pink. “Only ‘cause you keep getting hotter.”
“Well, I think it’s because you’re a boy, and you can see my underwear,” you argue half-heartedly. You cross your arms over your chest and angle your hip to the side, thighs rubbing like a harmony. “And now you don’t know what to do with yourself, like a Victorian child who just saw an ankle.”
“Well, yeah, that’s the half of it. But you’re also just pretty.”
Your nose scrunches. “You’re also just pretty, too.”
“C’mere,” he beckons with outstretched arms and grabby-hands. You gravitate towards him without thinking, crawling onto the mattress on your knees. His hands grip your waist the moment you’re in reach, wrenching you around until your back hits the bed. He smiles when you squeal.
The comforter wraps around his waist when he turns to lay over you. He kisses at your pulse, then gets lost in the way you smell. He runs the tip of his nose over the expanse of your throat. The softness of his barely-there touch makes you shudder.
“You smell good,” he mumbles, burying the words into your skin.
“Cozy by the fire,” you say as you twirl your hands in his hair.
“Hm?”
“Cozy by the fire. That’s the soap I use.”
He hums into the nook of your neck. “Mm. That makes sense. You smell all warm,” he mutters and melts further into you. He’s pressed so intently against your body that the rest of his words are nearly inaudible. “I don’t wanna get off you…”
“Then don’t.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you hold him closer to you. Even if he wanted to move, there’s not a world where you let him.
“I’m not crushing you?”
“Yeah,” you murmur into his temple. “But in a good way.”
He laughs against your pulse. Your heart starts to beat with it. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t make fun of me! I just like feeling you.”
Steve figures he knows what you mean. ‘Cause sometimes he gets jealous of your pillow, all green with envy because he can’t be stained with your scent the same way it can. “Fair enough,” he mumbles.
You linger there for a while. Pinned between his body and the mattress, like a flower pressed in the pages of a book.
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble#event: bug turns one
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Luke Castellan x daughter of aphrodite reader who comes back to camp with scandalous new sets of lingerie and tries them on for Luke who gets absolutely turned on and flustered 😇
ℒ𝒾𝓃𝑔ℯ𝓇𝒾ℯ
love this sm, adorable divider by @s-hyia!!
MASTERLIST
PART 2, part 3
Warnings- mdni, perv!luke, best friends crushing on each other, pining, fem!reader,
“Luke!” You yelled out. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking for you in the crowd of campers. He knew that voice from anywhere.
He found you, coming over and his eyes widening at your many bags.
You sighed in relief as he grabbed them for you. He laughed and walked over to cabin 10 with you.
“Hey, y/n,” He said, “I see someone did some shopping over break.”
“Not just any shopping.” You giggled, he looked at you confused.
“Just wait until later, I’ll show you.” A small smile on your face as you said that. He was still lost and confused but just nodded and put your bags on your bunk.
"You still up to be my sparring partner this year?” he asked you, as you both sat down on the edge of your bed. He always had these tricks to show the kids.
"Luke, you know I'm not good at sword fighting."
"I know, I know. Just for them?" You were more like a God at archery, you taught all the new demigods.
"Fine." You sighed, and he smiled at that.
“You going to the bonfire later?” He asked.
“No, I was actually gonna ask you for a favor…” you said. He was curious as to what you were talking about.
“Okay…”
“So, over break I bought all of these adorable lingerie sets, but, I need to know which ones look best on me. So I was gonna ask, if I could model them for you?”
His eyes widened as you asked, it sounded like something straight out of a wet dream.
The bell rung for the bonfire to start, and he nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.” He tried to keep calm, but inside he was bursting like a damn firework.
“Yay!” You squealed, grabbing the bags and heading to the bathroom. You shut the door and he sighed heavily, running a hand through his curls.
Okay, this is okay. Just stay calm, she’s your best friend. This is normal. He thought, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again when he saw you step out of the bathroom.
He had to control himself from letting out a groan. He nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat as you twirled.
“So? Out of 10?” You asked him, he didn’t hear you however.
You seemed perfect in it, you always did. The pink bra that left little to the imagination, topped with a little bow on it, and the underwear that hugged your figure perfectly.
“Luke!”
“Sorry. Sorry. What’d you say?”
“What do you think?”
“It’s…” he tried to find a word to say good without sounding like he was a perv.
“It’s nice.” He said, nodding and looking down at the floor. you smiled at him and then walked back to the bathroom.
He watched you move into the bathroom, staring at your plush thighs and ass. He quietly groaned once the door closed, and he grabbed your pillow, putting it on his lap to hide his problem.
“Okay, what about this?” You opened the door again, this one had little strawberries plastered on both pieces.
“It’s nice.” He said quickly, he felt his cheeks getting hot and he avoided eye contact. “I like it. That one might be my favorite so far.”
You gave him another sweet smile, and went over to him for a second, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you for doing this, by the way.”
You were going to be the death of him.
#luke castellan x you#luke castellan smut#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#charlie bushnell x reader#charlie bushnell#pjo disney+#pjo tv show#percy jackson
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LET IT ONCE BE ME | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [7]
Description: The THREE times she waits + the ONE time she doesn't have to.
length: 17.9k
trigger warnings: criminal minds gore + violence. jealousy. talks of sex and male and female anatomy. they get horny for one another basically. talks of Maeve + day of the dead. yearning idk? mention of one twin absorbing the other one in the womb (sorry if this is taken the wrong way but I conferred with my friend who did this when she was a foetus and she said it's not offensive and is okay to talk about so?)
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‘Let it once be me, who do I have to speak to
About if they can redo the prophecy?’
The one where they pretend to be married
“I will not be exploited in my own home,” Bugsy chided, the faint smell of burning toast filling the small kitchenette. The butter knife sat ready in her hand, salted spread dripping down the handle where she’d been busy making breakfast before she had been called.
He blinked back at her, unamused.
“No. You cannot just scream at me whenever you want something from me. This relationship is toxic,” She huffed, turning back to butter her toast with the thick goodness. Sometimes she loathed living with three boys who had her wrapped around their fingers.
The second piece of bread popped out of the toaster, which she quickly grabbed and began spreading, her fingers gripping onto the crusts gently as she did so. The squealing started again just as she readied herself to take the first bite, and she whirled around to see the two orange eyes that stared at her from on top of the counter.
“Sergio, stop. You’ll get Niko all wound up-” She hadn’t even finished her sentence when Spencer shuffled into the kitchen, his hair mussed from sleep, his long plaid pyjama bottoms skirting high up his ankles where he’d impossibly hit another growth spurt and forgot to find better fitting clothes. Niko darted in between his legs, rushing to jump up on the breakfast bar, where Sergio was already interrogating Bugsy for more treats, a low yowl leaving his throat at the thought of being left out of feeding. “You boys are driving me crazy, no more biscuits for today-”
The yowl grew in decibels, a second one symphonying it, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the whiney babies, turning to hand Spencer his piece of toast, crust already cut off and split into halves the way he liked it.
“I warned you not to treat them when I’m not here, they’ve become spoiled brats,” She huffed, though she felt her entire body warm up when she looked at his doe eyes, still half idled with sleep as he watched her swan around his kitchen, their kitchen technically since she had all but moved in to his little apartment meant for two housemates.
But they weren’t just house mates. They weren’t even dating. But she knew he wanted to. Because he loved her.
“How could you expect me to say no, they’re so compelling,” He said, his voice gravelly where he’d lightly snored, as much as he always denied he did, fussing Niko behind the ear with long, gentle fingers. He took the plate out of her hand, his eyes swirling with a moved expression when he saw she’d cut his crusts off, his gaze snapping back up to where she’d sweeped her hair out her face, a large shirt and a pair of his clean boxers adorning her figure, “Thankyou,”
He hadn’t said the three magic words since, neither of them had. But they felt it. The weird static that had been thick in the air between them before was crackling along their skin with every glance, like they were both thinking the same thing.
I love you, and you love me.
He smiled at her warmly, the urge to grab her by her face and kiss her skin all over almost overwhelming him, because he counted himself lucky every single day. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. He heard it in every heart beat, like a mantra that his chest clung to since the words had spilled from her soft lips. She was waiting for him, for his head to settle with the idea that Maeve was gone, and he could let her go and not feel terrible about it; waiting for him to make the first move.
“Coffee?” He asked, watching her eyes soften as they trailed over his face, and he worried he looked a little worse for wear since he’d rolled out of bed and headed towards the source of the girl he loved arguing with someone in the kitchen even though that someone had turned out to be the greedy bastard they loved dearly.
He knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have her waiting on him, and he never let himself forget it.
“Yes, please,” She said, and he brushed past her, close enough for it to be on purpose when their arms touched, his hands busying themselves in between the plate and munching on the first bite of breakfast, because he didn’t know what he might do if they spent one more second looking at one another like that.
She watched him move towards the kettle she’d sent him for Christmas when she was in London. After using one for two weeks she’d seen the light and realised he would love the nifty little invention. Her arm burned where he’d touched as if he’d taken a flame to her skin, her chest boiling up with every single thing she could think to tell him, like how good his hair looked when he didn’t do much with it, or how hot his voice sounded like that, or that she really really did love him the way she’d never even thought possible outside her silly romance novels, that she’d never believed Pip when he’d told Estella; “You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read,” and yet when she thought of it now, watching Spencer busy himself shovelling sugar into two mugs, it made entire perfect sense.
She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew him, and she didn’t ever want to know.
She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to say those three little words again, or just to tell him he smelled good even when he hadn’t put any deodorant or aftershave on, but her phone’s ringtone cut her off.
Already knowing it was going to be Penelope with a new case, she flicked the call on to speaker phone, “What you got for me, baby girl?” She said, trying to make her voice as deep as it would go, and she heard Spencer snickering where he was stirring hot water into the instant coffee.
“Was that supposed to be Morgan?” Pen’s voice replied, a small chuckle of her own evident even through the digital tone.
“I thought that was pretty good,” Bugsy replied, stuffing the last of the toasted bread into her mouth.
“I thought he was right in the room with us for a moment there,” Spencer chimed in, humouring her, as he also took an enormous bite from his breakfast, knowing they were more than likely about to be called in and their game of house, one where they flustered every time they spoke, was going to be over, “I was like, woah, Morgan, when did you get here-”
“Alright, my little rascals. We have a case, Hotch wants everyone in,” Penelope said, no doubt already paging through JJ, “No more coffee for either of you, you’re both being weird enough as it is,”
“Definitely not,” Spencer said, sliding the mug of milky, sweet caffeine over to Bugsy who smiled at him wickedly.
“Wheels up in twenty, Garcia,” The woman added in the same voice as before, Spencer laughing with a shake of his head and moving to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arm winding around her waist to give her a small, affectionate squeeze on the hip.
Penelope sighed, already accepting that their mercurial attitudes weren’t going away any time soon, the sudden mood change entirely odd to the rest of the team who had no idea that they had almost kissed just one week ago. To everyone else, they just seemed to have bounced back to normal, reverted back to Bugsy and Spencer; attached at the hip, only the eye contact and secretive smiles had been dialled to a hundred. The line went dead, and her head shot to look at him, where his hand had yet to move, and it was scoldingly hot against the soft fat that gathered at her hips.
“I’ll get your good shirt, I put it out to dry yesterday,” She said, her voice suddenly much less brave than it had been when she saw his eyes crinkling with a small smile.
He nodded, and she caught his gaze trailing down her nose, darting over her lips for a second in a way that made her chest rev like a Ferrarri out of gear. She felt her breath catch in her throat when he looked back up to her eyes, his forest hues entrancing like he was playing some silent flute song and she was a snake dancing under his orders.
He took a second to realise they were standing in his kitchen, his body pressed against hers like he hadn’t even realised they were so close, like he’d just gravitated to her that way, like he couldn’t stop it even if he’d tried to. He’d had a taste of nectar, and he was a drunk man ever since.
Spencer wrangled a hold of himself, allowing himself to stroke the back of her head lovingly, and pressing a kiss to her crown, before he stepped away from her, and the siren song dropped, the two of them dispersing to get ready for the case.
Bugsy swore she could hear her heart pounding the entire drive to headquarters.
–
“I think the real question is why married couples?” Hotch mused, a steaming cup of black coffee sitting in front of him on the jet, his nose in the file on his lap.
Bugsy scanned over the manilla folder in her hands, her legs swinging rhythmically beneath the table she sat on, Rossi to her left, her own second cup of coffee squeezed between her thighs. It was a heavy case for a weekend morning, three married couples found slashed and dumped together, the UnSub showing no signs of slowing or stopping.
“If he’s a sadist, having a witness to his torture heightens his pleasure,” Alex added, her lips pursed in contemplation, her hair primped surprisingly neat considering they’d been called in with little to no notice on a Sunday.
“Israel Keyes kidnapped a husband and wife at gunpoint, got them in a car, took them to a remote location, and then killed the husband in front of the wife,” Spencer said, trying not to look straight at Bugsy when he felt her eyes on him.
He’d never been one to keep a good poker face, never been good at hiding how he felt especially when he was happy. And she made him happier than he deserved to be. He knew their little arrangement would become glaringly obvious to the rest of the team if he let himself look at her. he had no control of his face when it came to her, how he felt his eyes soften, his lips turn up into a dopey smile, his hands itching to touch her just to confirm she was real.
He saw her head tilt down, into her lap as she tried desperately to focus on the words on the page, but he caught the small smile that she kept for herself, and he had a feeling she was struggling just as much as he was.
“Keyes was a sexual sadist, though,” Rossi interjected, his hands wrapped around a scolding cup of the green tea Penelope had bought them because she’d read of the stress relief benefits. They’d taken it, but David and Bugsy were the only ones who had tried it, “This guy, I don’t know,”
“Cutting a husband and wife to death, it’s more like he’s mocking their marriage bond,” JJ said, her bluebell hues dancing to Bugsy when the girl chimed in.
“Mutilating both of them, killing them together, it’s like the idea of couples and happy marriage is a trigger for him; it’s personal. He wants to make them pay for their happiness, likely because something’s stopping him from having it too,” She said, taking a long sip of her coffee, Rossi nodding along with her.
“That’s where my head’s at. ‘You took each other for better or worse, now I’m going to show you worse’,” He said, leaning back against the table, his shoulder nudging the younger girl.
Derek stroked a hand over his stubbled beard, “His home life’s probably a wreck, at least one ex-wife, not to mention mom and dad,”
“Alright we need to hit the ground,” Hotch said, flicking a glance at the youngest agent where she was all but inhaling her sweet beverage, “Prentiss and Reid, I want you mapping out a geographical profile,”
She nodded, her eyes slowly trailing to Spencer’s as Hotch distributed jobs around the team, but her head subconsciously tuned his stern voice out into static. Because when she looked up at his face, he was already staring at her, and the sound of her heartbeat racing crawled its way back into her ear, the thrumming so loud she was sure David could hear it too, she might as well have held a megaphone to her mouth and announced “Spencer Reid, you make me so nervous in the good kind of way,”
His hazel eyes trailed over her face, her expression unreadable as she scrambled to keep a lid on her feelings, and she wondered if this was where the phrase ‘Don’t shit where you eat,’ came from, because him so much as looking at her wiped her mind completely, which was not ideal for an agent working on a case. But she couldn’t help it, he was enchanting, and she guessed he was having just as much of an inner quarrel as he looked away from her, the apples of his cheeks and tips of his earlobes turning a strawberry ice cream pink.
She had no idea how she was going to make it through the rest of the day so close to him.
–
“First couple were last seen on the corner of Hill Avenue, Bella Mia Italian restaurant,” Bugsy read from her scrawled notes, as Spencer took a purple white board pen to the map of Detroit. Drawing a circle of a 5 centimetre radius around the little dot, he kept his eyes ahead of him. Hearing her pace behind him, he didn’t need to look up to know she was chewing her cuticles again.
“Stop biting,” He chided lightly, hearing a guilty silence where he knew she’d caught herself with embarrassment. He tried not to show his amusement, knowing it would only make her feel worse, he bit down a smirk and raised his pen back to the map, “Next one?”
She’d been on edge all day. He would have probably brushed it off as caffeine jitters seeing as she was on her fourth cup already, but Spencer knew her too well to know her tolerance was so high she had about two more mugs in her before she’d start to crash.
He knew what it was, the memory of her skin beneath his lips burning his cheeks all over again, the look in her eyes when he’d been close enough they were sharing breath. He knew what it was because he felt it too. It was like their confession had set off a ticking time bomb, one that neither of them had the countdown to, and the clicking of every passing second sounded oddly like a pulse in their throats. To put it short, just the sound of her footsteps was making his skin pimpled with gooseflesh.
“Uh, next one is Bowlarama, about ten stores down from there, Couple number two were seen getting milkshakes and heading towards the parking lot before they went missing,” She recited, her fingers firmly clutching the paper in her hand to resist the urge of gnawing at her nails again. Why was she so nervous? She lived with Spencer, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with Spencer, spent almost all her evenings either playing chess or watching movies with Spencer, or on the odd occasion he found a book in reach he hadn’t read yet, he’d read out parts to her he found particularly engaging to those million, trillion, billion neurological pathways of his.
The squealing of the pen against the board was the only thing keeping her head in the case, Spencer’s messy handwriting dotting around the map with points of interest, and she begged her brain to kick into gear the way it normally did, tried everything to yank herself out of the head fog she’d found herself lost in where thoughts of him emerged through like Mr Darcy strolling through those clouded moors, like how his voice sounded when he smiled, how his hand looked gripping that pen, how his body was lithe and handsome even from the back.
She shook her head, jamming her face back into her files, to the gory images of couple number three, mutilated and bloody, and reminded herself she had a job to do.
Get it together, Prentiss.
“Couple number three’s last known location was on the corner of Whittier Avenue, outside a wine bar named Blue Mates,” Bugsy read out, hoping her hot cheeks would dissipate before he noticed, “It seems couples out on date night really agitate this guy,”
Spencer hummed, focused on his third circle, the three of them overlapping with almost precise measurements. It was hard not to notice the pattern to them. He heard her draw nearer with his profile complete, and they stood beside one another, so close they knocked hands when they leaned in to take a closer look at the rings.
“He hits the same street of stores every time, one after another,” Spencer said, his long forefinger trailing down the strip of shops and bars the UnSub seemed to have a taste for, “I mean, excluding retail and supermarkets, since they’re unlikely spots for a husband and wife to go out on a date, the pattern is really quite linear where he hits next,”
Gently taking the pen out of his hands, Bugsy leaned up to colour in every single store that would be considered retail, crossing out a pet shop or two, leaving only the cafes, bars, restaurants, even a cinema. And sure enough, the three spots the victims had been last seen lined up perfectly as the first three ‘date night’ locations on the strip, the next being a steak restaurant named The Greasy Grill.
“How much do you want to bet our UnSub is getting a craving for Sirloin right about now?” Bugsy said, putting the pen down onto the table and they exchanged a look of accomplishment, just as Hotch walked in with the Chief of Detroit police.
“What did you find?” Hotch asked, his eyes falling to the asterisks drawn on the whiteboard, the rest of the known locations Penelope had sent dotted around the map.
“Date night is very important to this UnSub,” Spencer said, the two of them turning to their boss, his shoulder bumping hers, and it was only then she’d realised she was all but pressing up into his side.
“He goes on dates?” The chief of police asked, his brows furrowed. Taking a step away, her eyes darting to the map as a means of distracting herself, she pointed to the ink marks they’d squiggled on the paper.
“No, but the victims do and he knows that,” She explained, tracing a chewed fingertip down the street, “The UnSub hit here first, where our first couple went out for pizza. He then moved down here where the second victims had their date night in a bowling alley, and onto our newest victims, they were last seen having wine here, each kidnapping site along the same strip with the next possible location being right here,” She said, her finger slapping against the Greasy Grill, Hotch nodding in thought as the Chief got on the phone with his own team.
“Good work, you two,” Hotch hummed, and he opened his mouth to speak again when Bugsy’s phone began to ring.
Snatching it out of her pocket, she caught sight of Alex’s name before swiping to answer, pressing it to her ear, “Hello?”
“Fourth victim has just been found dumped in a car.” The woman said immediately, and Bugsy switched her mobile to speaker so the other two could hear her. Turning on her heels to face the white board, she grabbed the pen resting on the table beside her, yanking the lid off with her teeth.
“Where?” She asked, Spencer picking the plastic from between her lips to help her communicate, her eyes focused on the road names as she waited for Alex’s response.
“Back alley between Warren and Forest Avenue, one woman found alone in a white Buick,” Alex said, and all three of their faces scrunched in confusion as she said it.
“He’s changed his victimology,” Spencer murmured and Bugsy nodded, her lips pressed in a flat line, “Alex, is the woman married at least, or has the UnSub completely altered his preference?”
“We have her husband here right now,” Alex confirmed, and Hotch stepped over to where the two geniuses inspected the map, “He said he missed a dinner reservation they had two nights ago at a restaurant called-”
“The Greasy Grill?” Spencer and Bugsy spoke synchronously, and Alex paused audibly.
“I take it you two have figured out his pattern already?” She asked, though she didn’t sound all too surprised.
“See if the husband knows anything else, Blake. We’re going to figure out the next location that fits the pattern,” Hotch ordered, and they bid each other goodbye, as Bugsy and Spencer were already coordinating which plots of land were retail stores.
By the time the line went dead, there was a big red mark circling a mini golf course slash cocktail bar, and the duo looked at him expectantly.
“If the UnSub keeps his victims for around three days at a time, and the woman was found this morning, my guess is he’s going to head there tonight,” Bugsy said, capping the pen and dropping it back onto the desk, feeling Spencer nodding behind her, “And if the victim was supposed to be at the restaurant with her husband, it means he’s still looking for couples, he just happened to get unlucky. He’s going to want another happy-go-lucky husband and wife pairing,”
Hotch’s face became unreadable for a moment, his gaze switching between the two of them, like he was assessing the risk factor of sending his two youngest agents undercover for the second time. But they seemed to have worked together seamlessly the first time, in that casino, so he didn’t see the qualms about asking them to work the same act this time.
“What?” Bugsy asked, the look in his eye unnerving her, and she flicked a glance behind her at Spencer’s equally lost expression, turning back to see Hotch dialling Dave’s number to update him on their plan, “Hotch, what is it?”
“He wants a happy couple,” Hotch said, his phone already up to his ear as he eyed the little to zero space between the two agents who swore blind they were just friends, “We’re going to give him one,”
–
She had to admit, this was a little nicer than the red dress she’d been stuffed into last time. The sundress was flowy enough she could hide her gun strapped to her hip, and still compliment her figure nicely enough that she couldn’t complain. And best of all, it meant she could wear her ballet pumps instead of those god awful stilettos she’d pulled out last time they were undercover.
She still remembered that evening in the casino, watching Spencer’s big brain tick faster than she’d thought possible even for him. The briefing of this even seemed much more relaxed, seeing as their aim was to look like the happiest couple alive. ‘You worry about playing your parts, we’ll worry about playing ours,’; was what Alex had said when she’d brought in a dress about Bugsy’s size, the woman already styling her hair to look like she was really going on a date.
Because she was, sort of, not really, going on a date with Spencer. Except none of it was real, like someone up there had to have one final laugh at her luck, like that carrot on a string she’d been waiting patiently for the past week was looking a lot more delicious by the second as it dangled in front of her.
There was a knock on the small hotel room Hotch had booked them in for the evening, seeing as they were going to be scoping out the area until late, and Bugsy headed for the door without pause, thinking it was JJ returning with the fake wedding rings they’d gotten from a cheap jewellers down the street.
She swung the door open, only to be greeted by two dark eyes looking at her done up face, her primped hair, her floral dress.
“Spence,” She said, picking over every inch of him, breathless already, because she always thought he looked hot in a button down shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, “You look-”
“You look beautiful,” He rushed, like he might just burst if he held it in any longer, and she smiled sheepishly, her face flooding with heat all over again. Damn you, Reid, with your stupid charm and ridiculously good looking lips.
“You look beautiful too,” She complimented, noticing a gold band on his finger then and she realised he had something in his palm, “You run into JJ already?”
He nodded, smiling with a stammered breath, “Yeah, I said I’d come check if you were ready. Hotch and Dave are already there scoping out the bar,”
She simpered under the weight of his nervousness, “Well, I’m ready,” Holding out her left hand, she raised her ring finger, “Marry me, pretty boy,”
He snickered, shaking his head at her clear diversion from the stifling tension in the air, and held her hand in his delicately, his skin warm as it encompassed hers entirely, and he was careful to slip the false engagement ring over her digits, following it with a gold band of her own.
“You ready to get your ass kicked at miniature golf whilst our friends catch a criminal, Mr Reid?” She asked, and he had yet to let go of her hand as she shut the door behind her, slipping her hotel room key into her purse.
“That’s a bold statement from such a sore loser, Mrs Reid,” He said back, a smile so wide he thought he might burst a vessel as she laughed, and tightened her fingers around his, interlacing them just like she had done a handful of times before, and his chest crackled with white hot excitement when she knocked her shoulder into his side in affection.
His lips scorched with the words Mrs Reid the entire drive to the bar.
–
“Any eyes on him, yet?” Bugsy whispered to the women in the stalls, touching up her lipstick as JJ and Alex hid in the women’s bathroom for the signal.
“Not yet,” Blake said, sitting on the closed toilet seat in her kevlar and jacket, all but twiddling her thumbs and wishing she’d brought a sudoku, “Are you guys having fun at least?”
“Pretending to be married to my best friend while a serial killer eyes up my guts for the taking; yeah I’m peachy,” Bugsy replied, rubbing her lips together and making sure her gun was still strapped tight to her hip, “Besides, he really is kicking my ass at golf,”
“He’s going to let you win anyway, you know that right?” JJ said, tucking her feet up onto the seat in her own stall in case anyone who wasn’t on their team came in to the bathroom, “He always lets you win because he knows it makes you happy,”
Bugsy paused, the tissue that was collecting rogue lipstick smudges from her face almost falling in the sink, and she was quick to gather her voice with a clear of her throat.
“Maybe I just win because I’m good, Jennifer,” She said, a lilt of teasing in her tone, binning the scrap tissue paper and heading for the door, “Keep an eye out, kiddos. I’m going back in,”
They chirped a goodbye, the two of them sighing as they waited for Hotch’s message, and Bugsy walked back out to where Spencer was waiting by Hole Seven. It was a classic windmill on top of a hill, a small tunnel where the door was supposed to be leading to a lower level behind the plastic decor, where the hole lay waiting for them.
“You ready, honey?” He said, holding out a purple putter they’d chosen at the start of the course, and she smiled genuinely at him. She had been telling somewhat of a lie when she’d been so unenthusiastic in the bathroom, though she thought telling the women just how much fun she was having being married to Spencer might just rub salt in the wound considering they were bored stiff sat in the bathroom.
That and she wanted to keep whatever it was they were feeling theirs and only theirs for just a little bit longer.
“Ready, my love,” She sang in response and let him go first. He had to lean over a fair bit seeing as he was so tall he made everything on the course look particularly miniature, including the putter that seemed dwarfed by his height. Taking a quick look at the hill, no doubt calculating the angle and force he would need to hit it with, he gave the little, pink golf ball a generous tap and it raced up the slope, straight into the tunnel. They heard it knocking around a little in the chamber, before it came careering out the other end and rolled no closer than a yard away from the hole.
Bugsy looked at him with wide eyes, to which he pretended not to look almost arrogant with how easy he’d made it seem, only when he looked back at her with a shit eating grin, she knew exactly how pleased with himself he was.
“I bet it’s not that difficult, it’s all just a matter of force and drag and whatnot, right?” She said, strolling up to place her lilac ball on the inky dot marking the start.
“Totally, although this is where, I don’t know, say a degree in Engineering would come in useful, I bet,” Spencer chimed in, and she didn’t need to look at him to know he had that smirk on his face.
“Mr Reid, get ready to eat your words,” She replied over her shoulder, smacking the ball hard enough it flew up the slope, bouncing off the wall of the windmill and racing all the way back down the hill, rolling right back to where they stood, Spencer hiding a laugh behind his hand. She gaped, her face hot with annoyance, “Wait, wait! That was a practice run, I get another go,”
“Practice run, I see,” Spencer said with a chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets, and watching her scramble to set the ball back on the marker, “So out of interest, how many of these practice runs are you getting,”
“Just the one,” She said, hitting the plastic globe again, though this time it barely made it half way up the incline before it rolled right back down again, “Two, I get two. This one’s the real one, starting now,”
“The real one? So this one’s really the one that counts, right?” He teased, and she glared at him over her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, a look of the cat that got the cream smeared all across his face as he took a stance behind her, wrapping his arms around hers with the oldest trick in the book, “Why don’t you let your dearest husband help you out, huh?”
“I have a masters and half a degree in medicine, I think I know what I’m doing,” She hummed, though the feeling of his hands resting over hers soone quietened down whatever fire was stoked in her belly from losing their game. Spencer was so close she could feel him breathing down her neck, feel his chest on her shoulder blades, and worst and most heinous of all, feel his crotch pressing against her tailbone.
“Alright, alright. Just humour me,” He murmured, a new found confidence in him that he only seemed to get whenever they were playing the part of being other people. He gave her a salacious lick of his lips, smiling at her with a pink parted mouth, his eyes dark in this light like he knew what she was thinking as well, and he couldn’t help but think she looked so pretty when he flirted with her a little. He’d always thought that when she was stunned into that quiet tone, the mousy look she got on her face was rather cute.
His hands engulfed hers with a mesh of pornographic veins and sadistically handsome knuckles, his mouth at her ear as they lined up the shot together.
It was as if a murmuration of birds had flocked together in her chest, dipping and diving and creating all manner of shapes in her stomach as she felt it flip three or four times, his body so entirely pressed against hers she never wanted to move a muscle. She’d had the odd thought pop into her head about what sex with Spencer Reid might feel like, and yet all she could think about in the haze of the putter and fake grass beneath their feet was how delicious he felt pressing into her like that.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as she looked forward again, and she could have sworn she held back a moan when he breathed out down her spine.
“Hotch has eyes on a guy at the bar watching us,” He whispered, her back straightening as she was reminded with a slap to the face they were still working the case. That as much fun as they were having, as happy as they were supposed to seem, they still had a very real job to do, and she felt stupid for thinking the flirty glances and erotic embrace was for anything more than to sell the married couple act.
But Bugsy was nothing if not committed to her job. So instead of worrying if Spencer had felt anything real in the last hour or so, she decided to double down and give their UnSub a real show.
Sticking her ass out so she brushed against Spencer’s crotch more, she intertwined her fingers with his, and hit the dimpled sphere the direction he guided her; and sure enough it rolled straight into the tunnel with little qualms.
Spinning in his arms, the smile was nearly wiped off her face when she saw Spencer’s eyes had darkened to a rich espresso hue as he looked at her. But she hid it well, despite the fact she caught the way his pupils were blown wide, and simply leaned to kiss him smack dab on his cheek, a smirk on her face when she pulled away.
“I guess I just needed the correct motivation,” She said with a flirty undertone, and she revelled in the way his lips parted enough she saw the whites of his absurdly pretty teeth.
“Remind me to not take you out to mini golf for our first date,” Spencer huffed, his ears red as a mushroom top as they both stepped over to where the hole was and she snickered, trying her best to ignore the wings hammering away at her ribcage when he said that.
“Duly noted, Mr Reid,” She said, watching him lineup his next shot with a smirk, and she wondered just where exactly they would go on their first date. Her smile only got wider, a girlish glee to her eyes. “So, theoretically, where were you thinking of taking me?”
“Theoretically,” He said, lining up his shot, the ball only a small tap away from the hole, his feet spreading a little wider so he could lean down to putt the pink sphere, “I was thinking of going to that book cafe out in Delaware, the one where they have a bunch of drinks inspired by different authors. We could play a game I used to with my mom, where we choose a book for each other we think the other would like,” He took the shot, his ball rolling into the cavity without much effort as she watched him meticulously, her entire body softening with his sentiment right down to her marrow, “And then I was going to say we build a sofa fort in the living room and watch whatever movie you like, maybe get some popcorn on the way home,”
He looked up at her, and almost reeled back in surprise to see her looking at him with something so vastly emotional in her eyes, like he’d offered her a winning lottery ticket or a chance to go back in time in a flying police box, her expression a complete window into her soul because she’d never been too good at hiding how she felt when she was around him.
Spencer opened his mouth to speak again, only for their earpieces to jump to life, Hotch’s voice out of breath as he reported down their ear.
“We have the UnSub, we caught him trying to sneak into your car like we profiled.” He said, and she knew his brow was creased without even having to see his face, “We’re taking him in for questioning now, you kids wrap up and head to the station,”
Bugsy hummed in confirmation, fighting the disappointment that their show was over, and they’d have to go back to their usual act of pretending there wasn’t three little words hanging over both their heads, gnawing at the back of their brains.
Clearing her throat, she set up her shot ready to finish their game, “Well, theoretically speaking, when you’re ready to ask me on that date, I’m there,”
He smiled to himself, perhaps ready to flirt with her just a little more before they went back to being Bugsy and Spence, not Mr and Mrs Reid, when she hit the golf ball just the tiniest bit too vigorously. It rolled straight past the hole, bouncing off the wall and heading further away from the end than when she’d started, and she groaned in frustration.
“How are you so terrible at this-” Spencer burst out laughing as she stomped over to the lilac ball, lining up another shot with a grumpy expression.
“Not another word, Lover boy,”
2. The one with an old flame.
“I wonder what Hotch wants,” She mused, her head resting on the arm of the seat, her eyes shut for the duration of the flight. Rossi had called them into the office startlingly early for a Friday, the entire team sleepy eyed and annoyed as they’d strolled onto the sixth floor.
Yet the minute that they’d heard Hotch needed them, they’d soon perked up in interest, seeing as it was Aaron’s only appointed week off to see Beth in New York, and they had quickly jumped in to help with whatever it was he needed.
“Penelope’s still waiting for NYPD to send her the autopsy reports for the previous victims,” Rossi said, him, Strauss, JJ and Alex playing a few rounds of Shithead with a peeling deck of cards because for once they had no paperwork to be looking over while they travelled. Bugsy had laid on the couch, the one Spencer usually commandeered, except this time he let her take the comfy seat, instead letting her legs drape over his lap as he read from his book, another two sat next to him for when he finished that one.
“He sounded panicked. DEA thinks we might have a bad batch of something making its way through the club scene causing the deaths,” Strauss added, putting down two sets of three on top of JJ’s ace, “Aaron’s brother just happened to have been caught in the crossfire,”
“Men are almost twice as likely to die from drug overdoses than women, just last year there were forty-one thousand, five hundred and two cases.” Spencer said without lifting his head from his pages, his thumb caressing over Bugsy’s ankle bone, “The fact that the majority of the victims are women suggests it’s more than likely is a date rape drug that has been laced since they tend to be targeted towards female victims more often than males.”
“Ecstasy can be made in pill, powder or liquid form so it really wouldn’t be too difficult to slip it into someone’s drink,” The girl mused, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she attempted to catch up on another half hour of sleep, “Or to convince people the drug they’re taking willingly is safe,”
“Even regular users might not know they're being dosed until it's too late,” JJ agreed, setting down a seven on top of Rossi’s two fives.
“What about the two victims who were clean, Linda Heying and Eric Sullivan’s family claimed they never touched the stuff,” Alex questioned, as Morgan looked over the list of victims that they had been able to track down, despite the majority of the information waiting for them at New York.
“Either the victims are good at hiding the truth or the UnSub is killing for another reason,” David said with a sigh, as Strauss set down the six of clubs, “We should take a closer look, see how they’re connected,”
“Well for now, let the princess get her beauty sleep,” Bugsy said, snuggling into the throw pillow Spencer had passed her as they’d sat down, “I’m feeling weird today,”
His head ripped from his book at that, the rest of the team going back to playing their cards, his hand skirting up to her calf to stroke her leg gently, “You okay?”
She huffed, “Yeah, Penelope said it's because my Mercury is in Retrograde or something, I don’t know. I just feel strange,” She grumbled, resting a hand over her stomach, “Probably just coming on my period early,”
He frowned, moving her legs off his lap and standing up. Before she could ask where he was going, he stepped to the opposite end of the couch, picking her head up gently by the crook of her neck and sitting back down, resting her back onto his lap.
His fingers were in her hair before she could say anything, scratching gently at her scalp the way he knew she turned to putty for, and she smiled, swearing blind she’d be purring if she could.
“We’ll get you some breakfast when we land,” He murmured, and she snuggled her cheek into his thigh, his slender fingers massaging her skin kindly.
“Thankyou, Spence,” She whispered back, all but slurring her words as sleep caught right back up to her, and before long she was drooling on his black trousers, the sight of it making him smile sweetly to himself.
And it was for a moment like that he wondered what exact feeling he was waiting for in the first place.
–
“Any updates?” Bugsy asked, as they entered the New York Police Department and saw Hotch waiting for them, his arms crossed in a casual shirt and jeans, clearly having had no intention of working this week, “How’s your brother?”
“A little shaken but then he never exactly made the best choices in life,” Hotch huffed, putting a hand on her back as she leaned in to give him a small hug because he seemed particularly stressed, “Emily always said you were bad, I’d take you over him any day,”
“Thanks,” She murmured into his shoulder, with a frown, “I think?”
He smiled, amused the way she had a knack for, though the worry in his mahogany eyes didn’t budge, and Spencer was all but a step behind her as the team filed into the building.
“You guys have coffee?” Spencer asked, his eyes subconsciously trailing after Bugsy as she moved to talk to one of the detectives, and Hotch nodded, pointing him over to the small kitchenette at the back of the precinct.
“Over there, I’ll get you guys set up with the lab reports now that you’re here. Autopsies came back for Linda and Eric,” Hotch said, and Spencer murmured in agreement, heading straight for the instant coffee and creamer, worrying about the girl who was already nose deep in a file by the time the machine had poured the first cup.
He wondered whether there were any pharmacies nearby for anti-sickness tablets, or if she needed a heavy dose of water and sleep instead of the caffeine goodness he was whipping up for her, but then he knew she’d rather shrivell into a ball in the precinct bathroom than ask for a day off, would rather suffer in proud silence than make herself look weak.
Bugsy remembered it happening in choppy intervals. One minute she was heading up the steps towards where Spencer stood patiently by the coffee machine, something already popping up as a point of interest in her overworked brain. Her head was down, muttering to herself the points of the victimology that conflicted with one another, when she felt herself slam right into a solid body, and she jumped back, steadying herself with an embarrassed expression.
“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” Her eyes snapped up to see a messy blonde sweep of hair, wide blue eyes she’d known ten years ago and a thick beard that happened to be the only thing new about him. Her gaze locked onto him, and she felt a fury she’d not thought about in over a decade rile up inside her, “Sean?”
“Bugsy,” He breathed, the horror sweeping over his expression, a hand shooting up to slick his hair back nervously, “What are you- how are you-”
She shoved him back with two firm hands, tossing the file onto the table beside her, and shoving at his chest again, his own hands coming up to defend himself lightly even though his expression read nothing but guilt.
“Woah, woah, let’s just talk about this, I was just a dumb kid-”
“You left me, Sean. You left me in a foreign country alone with no boarding pass, no cell phone,” She snarled, and the sound of her tone rising turned a few heads, Spencer all but ditching the spoon into the sink when he saw her going nose to nose with some guy who looked purely terrified, “Your dumbass friends spent all my money on hookers, I’d still be in Italy if it wasn’t for the fact you graciously decided not to steal my bank card-”
She shoved him again in between her growls, and it wasn’t until two hands came up to stop her did she realise Derek and Spencer had all but appeared behind her, the former’s arms wrapping around her waist to draw her back.
“Woah, woah, talk to me, pretty girl. What’s with the aggression?” Derek asked, his eyes wide with concern as he looked between the youngest agent and their suspect. It seemed her volume had reached the other side of the room where Hotch had been talking with Strauss and Alex, and Spencer could practically see the steam coming out his ears as he whipped around to their trio.
He could already hear the lecture coming, and the thought of it made him gulp.
“This is Sean,” She spat, and Derek and Spencer’s head snapped to the blonde man who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, “You know, the asshole that ditched me on another continent and stole my money,”
“I didn’t mean to steal your money, I thought you had it in your purse, I-I didn’t think to check before we left the hotel room,” He tried to interject, though the girl's glare intensified, unaware her boss's shoes were now thundering across the steps.
“Where you left me to miss the flight I paid for, you inconsiderate prick-”
“You told me to leave you alone! You said you were sick of us waking you up-”
“I meant playing your music too loud, dumbass-”
“Well sorry, last time I checked I’m not a mind reader, Bugsy-”
“What in God’s name is going on here?” Hotch’s voice was a crack of lightning through the precinct, and the two of them shut up immediately, like two school children caught squabbling in the halls, Sean turning to his older brother with an exasperated expression.
“Aaron, I swear, I don’t know what she’s doing here,” Sean pleaded, and Derek, Spencer and Bugsy turned to their boss in unison with bewildered faces. Hotch looked back at them, his own anger dissolving into utter, raw confusion.
“Do you two know each other?” Hotch, Aaron, asked the girl in the middle, the other men all but positioned as bodyguards in the midst of their little spat, and he saw her cheeks hot with anger deflating as she drew a breath to answer.
“Unfortunately,” She spat, scrutinising the familiar tone Sean had used when he’d said Aaron’s name, “Do you two know each other?”
“He’s my brother,” The Hotchner’s replied in unison, their tone almost identical and she felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.
Bugsy felt her face drop, her eyes scanning between them for any signs of a lie, except all she found were the tiny details of their face that seemed to half match. Like their cheekbones, and the crease between their brows, the shape of their lips.
Her face blanked, gobsmacked silence passing between the five of them as she digested exactly what that statement ment.
Sean, her Sean, the Sean she’d been sleeping with on and off for six months straight, who used to make her tea way too milky and without sugar the way she hated it, but would bring it to her in bed and stroke her back when they were finished, the Sean who once tried to ask her to be his girlfriend when he was stoned and she’d laughed at him and snatched the blunt away, told him to get a hold of himself because that was the exact opposite of how friends with benefits worked.
Sean, who she had trusted to keep her safe, who’d ditched her naked in a hotel room in a foreign country and made her feel stupid for ever believing a word a man said.
She stuttered for a response, a wide eyes mix of terror and confusion and repulsion washing over her in stages.
“I need-” She swallowed thickly, her mouth drier than sandpaper, gently pushing Derek’s arm from around her waist, “I think I need a walk- a walk sounds good- yeah-”
Rossi paced over to the five of them, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. He almost paused at the wall of awkward tension around the group, each participant seeming stuck for the right thing to say, the entire situation so bizarre that Spencer debated faking a migraine to get him and her out of the room for some air.
“Hotch,” Both of the men turned to look at him, and the sight of it made Bugsy shudder, feeling almost completely out of her own body at the thought of her nude body on top of Sean’s because now all she could see was Aaron in his place, “Six new bodies found in a nightclub-”
“I’ll go!” She jumped, all but bolting past the men, trying her hardest not to touch either of them because her skin crawled with a sickening uncanny valley looking between the brothers, “I’ll go inspect the crime scene,”
And no one stopped her, because they’d seen her be all manner of strange before, but never quite like that. Aaron nodded his head to Morgan, and the man took it as a sign to follow her. He quickly obeyed, hot on the girl's heels as she kept her head down with an odd, freaked out expression on her face like she was about to throw up and scream at the same time.
Which left Sean alone as Spencer and Aaron whirled around on him, similar looks of annoyance on their face as the younger agent looked the man head to toe.
He was handsome, handsome in a rugged way like he was used to bar fights and late nights and drinking until three am with pretty ladies like her. He was built wide like Aaron, his shoulders broad and muscles stocky, a few tattoos dotted around his arms that only added to his rough looking appeal, and Spencer wondered if she’d always liked the bad boys, wondered if he was an outlier in her dating history.
Except they weren’t dating, not yet at least.
“So I take it she’s one of your agents,” Sean said, wringing his hands together in anxiety as the two taller men looked down at him, equally unimpressed.
Though, Spencer hated to admit, his was more green faced jealousy than anything else.
“Agent Prentiss is one of the best,” Reid corrected, his tone cold and stern, and Sean visibly shrunk in on himself, looking to his big brother for help, only he found Aaron was just as annoyed, glaring down at him.
“You have some more explaining to do, Sean,” His brother snapped, and the two men diverted him into one of the interrogation rooms, Spencer’s jaw clenched so hard he felt his temples ache, “Or next time I’m not stopping her from handing your ass to you, and believe me when I say you’ll wish you’d told me sooner,”
Sean gulped, all too aware of the way eighteen year old Bugsy had never backed down from a fight, when men twice her age shoved her in clubs or girls bitched at her for dancing too close to their boyfriends. He didn’t imagine she was any different at twenty eight, except this time she was trained and licensed to handle a gun.
The door slammed behind them, and Aaron pushed his little brother into the seat with a firm hand, the sight of his unit chief just as protective over her as he was making Spencer bite back glee. The image of Bugsy laying into the guy was burned into his memory, eidetic or not, and it seemed to be the only thing that stopped him blowing his top as Sean opened his mouth to explain what had happened between him and the younger Prentiss woman.
–
“What did you do, Thane?” Sean’s voice crackled over the feed, the wire on his chest brushing against his shirt as he paced in the wine cellar. Aaron, Morgan, Spencer and Bugsy sat in the van, listening to the conversation through shared headphones, Spencer and Bugsy’s heads pressed together as they followed the voices as best as they could, waiting for a confession or anything they could tie to the victims' gory deaths.
“I spiked the wine, you idiot,” Sean’s boss, Thane, snapped, his breathing laboured and Bugsy took a shot in the dark to say he was pacing, worrying now that there was concrete evidence linking his date rape drug to the deaths of atleast nine people so far, “Oh, God. Oh, god, Jim is going to kill me.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” Sean seethed, his patience wearing thin as the man all but confessed to killing his girlfriend.
“For a laugh, I thought it was X. Girl’s love that crap,” Thane replied, his voice louder as Sean stepped closer to him, and she exchanged a look with Aaron.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t X, was it?” The younger Hotchner barked, and she quickly let go of the headphones to grab a kevlar and her gun.
“He’s going off track, Aaron, he’d not going to keep his cool much longer,” She said, and Spencer’s eyes trailed up to her face, her brow furrowed as Aaron moved to slip his own bulletproof over his head, adjusting the straps at his side.
“Tell SWAT to stand by, we’re going in to support, but we may need back up,” Aaron ordered, unholstering his gun and switching the trigger off safety, “You two stay here and see if Thane says any more about the wine,”
She drew her gun to her side just as he did, and Spencer made a move to stop her, even just to check where her head was at because he knew she had this tendency of throwing herself in harms way and asking questions later. He selfishly worried what that upset look in her eyes meant, like she loathed that Sean was in danger as much as she loathed him.
But he wasn’t quite fast enough, because by the time he’d reached a hand out for hers to ask if she was feeling alright, she had slid the door to the van open, hopping out onto the tarmac as Aaron shadowed her.
And something ugly and envious reared its head in Spencer’s gut as the doors slammed, so much so that his jaw feathered and he took a deep breath out, his lips pressing into a thin line.
The two agents moved as one, their footsteps pounding over the linoleum floor of the night club. They swept to the back of the building, where the door to the stock room was, and it became apparent almost immediately from the grunting and shuffling the other side of the door that the two men were much closer to brawling than they’d guessed.
“FBI, drop your weapon!” Bugsy called, bracing herself as she felt Aaron’s domineering figure at her shoulder. She raised her leg to kick the door in, and it swung on its hinges, smacking into the rack of beer. They caught the two men in the middle of a fist fight, Sean with a split lip, Thane with a gash on his forehead, his head locked under the younger man’s arm with a deathly grip.
She holstered her gun, seeing that neither of them were carrying, and moved forward to break the two of them up.
“Alright, Sean- Sean, that’s enough,” She scolded, her fingers prying his muscled arm off his boss’s trachea, and Sean took a second to realise it was disappointment in her face, not the white hot anger it had been not even a few hours before, before he let the man go, some colour returning to his bluing lips.
“He killed Linda,” The blonde Hotchner said softly, and something wavered in her eyes, something close to pity, and she nodded at him while biting her cheek hard. Aaron holstered his gun, surging forward to grab Thane with rough hands as he fought against the taller man’s grip. “She was sober, she’d gotten clean and he killed her,”
“I know,” Bugsy said lamentingly, and against her better judgement she patted his shoulder kindly, more kindly than he probably deserved, and the thought of it made Sean’s baby blue eyes turn away in sorrow.
Before she could say anything else, Thane wretched his hand out of Hotch’s grip, grabbing for the sharp box cutter and lunging right for Bugsy where she turned away from him.
Sean’s expression morphed into fear for a moment, grabbing for her to yank her out of reach, but it was too late. She felt the slash across the back of her arm, where her kevlar couldn’t cover up, and she yawped in pain the way a dog sounds when its tail gets crushed. Turning towards the source of the danger, Sean’s hand weaved around her waist to tug her backwards as Aaron scrambled to grab the suspect.
Thane’s hand gripped the blade and slashed down again, across her cheek and only inches away from her eye, her hands too late to grab his wrists to stop his advances. By the time he drew back to swipe for her again Aaron had already tackled him to the ground, pinning him to the wine soaked floor and fumbling for his cuffs.
“We have an agent injured and needing medical, repeat, medical unit required on scene,” Spencer was out of his seat before Hotch could even finish his sentence, forgoing his own vest as he darted from the van, his heart racing at the sound of the scuffle echoing through Sean’s wire, and he felt his chest seizing at just what kind of a state she’d be in when he saw her.
She was the only other agent on the scene. That call had to be made for her, the voice in his gut told him, but the twisted part of him hoped that it was someone else, anyone else, that had gotten hurt, because he might just throw a punch of his own at Thane or Sean or maybe even both of them if she had so much as a single hair misplaced.
Spencer had only just about reached the bar area when the four of them emerged from the stock room, Thane in cuffs, looking rattled and aggravated. Spencer let himself take a long, hard look at the man with a glare that soon made him cower away, though he found little luck elsewhere as Hotch’s hands gripped him so tight Spencer thought he might be trying to strangle him through his arms.
But that wasn’t who he was looking for. And there, trailing behind his unit chief sheepishly, with Sean’s hand on her back as he watched her carefully, his eyes worriedly darting over her skin when he saw how fast the blood was pouring from the laceration on the apple of her cheek, was Bugsy. Her expression was shaken, no doubt from nearly having her corneas slashed open had Sean not pulled her away even a second earlier, and she seemed in some sort of a daze, until she spotted the sweater vest she’d shoved in the wash about a hundred times, and two supple hands reached for her shoulders, snapping her attention out of her head.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, all but ignoring Sean as the man went to flag down medical, his own appearance dishevelled and stunned, and it irked Spencer something childish when her head snapped to the blonde, watching him head for the paramedics.
“I’m okay, Spence, it’s just a superficial wound,” She said as a reflex, meeting his eyes finally. But she simpered when she saw just how terrified he seemed, a warm palm raising to cup his face affectionately, “He just nicked the skin, that’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks,”
Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Her face stung like a bitch, but the feeling of her cheek dribbling with the ichor was worse than the actual pain, and made her feel queasy more than anything.
He went to say something else, or perhaps even gently caress the clean side of her face with his own loving gesture, but he was quickly interrupted by the medical team all but grabbing Bugsy out of his grip and assessing her themselves.
“It’s probably best if you come take a seat, Agent Prentiss,” The woman said, pointing to where Sean sat on the back of the ambulance getting his nose checked over, “We’ll be over with some stitches and glue,”
And Spencer made a move to follow the two of them, only to be stopped by Hotch, who called his name with that direct tone he took when he was worried.
“Reid, I need you and Morgan to interview Thane about where he got the drugs he used to spike the wine,” Aaron ordered, even though he seemed to watch the girl go just as bothered as the younger agent, and Spencer seemed conflicted between rebelling against his boss’s instructions or keeping to his track record of following them to a tea.
He paused for a second, his gaze flicking to the girl who sat with her old flame, Sean’s eyes roving over her head to toe worriedly, and he looked back to Aaron, “But-”
“Now, Reid. She’s going to be fine.”
And Spencer was forced to listen, even if his face burned with annoyance at the sight of the man watching her so tentatively.
–
“Would you quit fidgeting, the medic said it was a surface wound,” Bugsy snipped, feeling the ocean hues burning a hole into the side of her head. She dusted her knees off of invisible dirt, braving a look up at her ex-fling where she was met with a wall of guilt.
And it was like for a split second she remembered all the mornings she’d wake up to him twirling the tips of her hair between his fingers, or when he’d shake his head whenever he’d look over her shoulder at her lab reports she’d be writing and make a passing comment on how a hot girl like her could have brains and looks.
Or how he could be kind to her, genuinely sweet when he wanted to be, when they toed a weird line between friends with benefits and something a little more, because at his core she knew he was a good guy, he was just incredibly dumb for an eighteen year old.
“Listen, Bug,” Sean sighed, looking down at the ground where they were perched on the back on the ambulance, Bugsy’s face stitched up so tight she hoped it wouldn’t scar very deeply, “I really am sorry for how I treated you,”
His voice shook with something remorseful, and she let her eyes cast over his face that had grown even more handsome in the ten years since she saw him. With the good memories came the bad ones in equal measure, and the arguments over stupid shit like leaving cupboard doors open and playing music late at night and the time he forgot to feed her gerbil for two days when she was out of town washed back to shore from the deepest crevices of her mind.
She’d been with men after him, had flings and meaningless kisses with boys who’d treated her much less kindly than he had. And when she thought about it, the anger and resentment she’d felt when she thought about those few days she spent lost in Italy stemmed from the fact she’d been forced to confront what she’d always feared since she was little.
That Bugsy was alone in the world, forgettable, someone you could leave behind and sleep soundly.
But when she thought of that now, the first face she pictured was Spencer, and how he would tell her to knock it off if she ever said that out loud, because he would never leave her, in a foreign country or even at a gas station if she needed to get fuel. He always walked up to the pump with her because he knew exactly how many women got kidnapped in places like that every year, he'd told her so already.
And she knew the person she was when she could have loved Sean, the person who was reminded just how easy it was to leave her behind, was gone. In its place was the girl who Spencer loved like it was as easy as breathing. And the thought of it made her feel just that little bit less bitter towards the blonde man who fiddled with his rough, bloodied hands.
“I was a dumb kid, I did a lot of things that I’m not proud of,” He swallowed heavily, his frown looking strikingly similar to Aaron's as he did, but she would never remind him, “But I did always wonder whether I’d see your name in the news curing some disease I could never pronounce or being the first person to learn like every single language there is,” He smiled sadly, and the old her knew him just well enough to know he was being honest, because his nose turned red whenever he lied.
The thought of it made her lips curve up, despite how annoyed she’d been to see him again, and there was something bashful about the way the slid a hand into his to give it a quick squeeze.
“We were eighteen, Sean. No one has themselves figured out at eighteen,” She said earnestly, her head dipping to meet his ashamed gaze.
He shook his head, “You deserved so much better than I could ever give you, we both knew that,” He pulled his hand away, and her expression contorted into confusion, “It’s probably why you're with that doctor, right? Aaron said he’s like a whizz kid,”
“He’s not-We’re-” She sighed, running a hand over where the EMTs had stitched the gash on the back of her arm, “It’s complicated,”
“Complicated like we were complicated?” He asked, her fingertip tracing every single nook where they had looped the suture through her skin.
She smiled to herself and looked over at him, something weighty like closure passing between the two of him as he watched her take his tired face in, knowing they were nothing more than just passing ships in the night now.
“You meant something to me once, Sean, no matter how much we drove each other up the wall,” She snickered, and something like an exhausted chuckle matched her, “But it’s different with him. It’s like everything I do means something to the world when I’m with him, you know?”
Sean took in the wistful look in her eyes, the girl he’d known who had only gotten stronger, scrappier, wittier with age, and he thought he’d be lucky to ever get someone like her again.
“I hope I do,” He said, and she knocked her shoulder into his to dispel the bad memories of two teenagers figuring out what feelings and kisses and sex meant in the messiest of ways.
“Do me a favour?” Sean hummed at her, and she looked surprisingly like herself again when she smiled at him wryly, “Call Aaron more. It’s difficult being the only disappointment child in his life,”
Sean barked a laugh at her words, and she smiled into her lap. Who’d have thought closure would be so healing.
–
She felt eyes on her even as she tried to nap on the jet, having returned back to their original position on the couch, her head on Spencer’s lap. She had a sixth sense to who it would be, the Spider Sense they’d been calling it despite the fact Spencer tried to tell her it was mere intuition, she glanced up to where something melancholic swirled inside his forest gaze, already watching over her despite his book being open in his lap.
She hadn’t even opened her mouth to speak before his obscenely large hand had sneaked under her jawline, tilting her face up so he could take a better look at the messy cut.
“Have they given you anything for the pain?” Spencer said quietly, because the other’s were already trying to sleep, and she blanked for a moment, before her hand came up to snake around his wrist gently.
“They gave me Naproxen for two days. Spence, I’m fine, really,”
His teeth ground together, his other hand placing his book down beside him and moving to smooth the back of her hair, the sealed wound staring daggers at him as his eyes darted over the rest of her face, just to be sure they hadn’t missed anything.
He nodded to himself, as if to conclude his consultation and his thumb stroked down the curve of her jaw, his head whipping up to quickly make sure no one else was watching.
“What, uh,” Spencer cleared his throat nervously, her expectant eyes looking up at him, “What were you and Sean talking about?”
Her brow quirked in confusion, and it wasn’t until she felt his delicate strokes hesitate that she realised he seemed on edge, “Why?”
“N-No reason, I just was wondering, you looked like you were-” He coughed again, even though there was nothing tickling his windpipe, nothing except embarrassment, because he’d never thought he’d be the envious type.
He braved a look at her again, worried she would be annoyed with his crass and intrusive questions, only to see her smiling at him wickedly.
“We were what?” She asked, and Spencer went so quiet he could have heard a mouse knitting if he tried, his cheeks flushing with raspberry red heat, “Are you jealous, Spencer?”
He shook his head fast, unable to formulate anything that wasn’t a stammer, and she sat up in her seat, throwing her legs onto the ground so she could scooch up into his side.
“Because if you were, you know I’d find that wildly attractive right?” She murmured, his cheeks burning an even hotter shade, the sight of it all but a bone to a hound to Bugsy who loved teasing him. She snickered, leaning in close to his vermillion ear, and leaving a tiny kiss on his clenched jaw, “Don’t worry, Wonder Boy. He knows I’m all yours,”
3. The one with the day of the dead.
“Thankyou, thankyou, my helpful little mice,” Penelope chirped as the three of them stepped into her apartment, their arms filled with shopping bags, “Set them down on the counter, I’ll unpack them later,”
“Wow,” Bugsy gawped at the altar stood in the corner of the woman’s living room, an assortment of sweets and tissue paper flowers decorating the layers, “Oh it’s so pretty, they’re going to love it. We spent a Summer in Mexico when Mom was having talks with their President, but we moved out before October rolled around so I never got to see a Día de los Muertos,”
Penny smiled, though she quickly looked around the rest of her apartment that had yet to be decorated, “There’s still a lot to do before the party next week and,” She huffed, the bags taking up the entirety of her kitchen table as Bugsy frowned at her, “I’m scared. I’ve never had the whole team here before,”
“Relax, Pen, I can help you set up,” The younger woman reassured, helping unload the groceries that needed to go in the fridge as Spencer helped her carry the larger items.
Penelope perked up watching her guests move towards the cooler, a devilish smirk twitching at her lips, “Hey, while you guys are there, can you see if I have enough hot sauce for the party?”
“Sure,” They replied in synchrony, Bugsy putting the milk and soda in the side drawers as Spencer shelved away some of the meat. They both looked at the top row, where some kind of jalapeno salsa was resting next to a jar of fake eyeballs, and the flicked a casual glance at the woman who was pouring vials of red viscous liquid made to look like blood down her cheeks for a Penelope version of a practical joke.
Bugsy blinked once, not quite surprised as she would have thought seeing Penelope attempting to scare them with something they’d seen a thousand times over for real.
“Now, are the eyeballs marinating in anything spicy or is it just like a pickled onion type of thing because all you seem to have is the jalapeno sauce,” She said, and Penelope deflated at her bored tone, looking at the two agents in discontent.
“You guys didn’t even flinch,” She said sadly, her dark eyes flicking between them, “My poor babies, what has the world done to you?”
Bugsy smiled, shutting the fridge door and handing the bubbly woman a leaf of tissue paper.
“JJ’s right, I told her I wanted to go scary this Halloween and she just laughed at me, and said that I don’t have a scary side,” Penelope whined, and Bugsy giggled.
“Sorry, babygirl, you wouldn’t be Penelope Garcia if you were capable of scary,” She teased, waltzing around the kitchen to put away the rest of the shopping, even as the woman tried to shoo her away from helping, “I’ve seen puppies scarier than you, Pen,”
“If it helps, you probably do,” Spencer interjected, helping Bugsy shelve something on one of the higher cabinets, his long arms weaselling over her own as he reached past her, “The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied and multi-faceted. It’s essential to one’s mental health to want to express these hidden personalities and it’s just a fact of nature that everybody has one,”
“Everybody?” Penelope asked, ignoring the way the two of them bumbled around her kitchen, handing things between one another the way she imagined them putting away the groceries in their own kitchen, like they worked just as well in the home as they did in the field. Dare she say it, like a couple who had been married and knew each other's routines for years. “Even the two of you?”
“Oh, absolutely, yeah,” Spencer agreed, and Bugsy flicked a smirk up at him as Pen turned to her expectantly.
"I mean, you can't tell me Bitch-Slapping our boss or fist fighting with my sister was exactly usual behaviour for me," She pointed out, and the two of them nodded in agreement, although they wouldn't have exactly called it out of character for her.
“Okay, okay, I want to see it. I want to see Dr Spencer Reid’s hidden personality,” Penelope said, a smile growing as thick and fast as a weed when he seemed thrown off by her request, and it only took one look at the younger Prentiss to know she wanted front row just as badly.
“R-right here? Like right now you want to see it?” He stammered, all too aware of Bugsy’s amused lashes batting up at him, the innocent expression she knew made it difficult for him to say no to, and he wondered for a second if she understood the exact amount of control she had over him when she wanted to.
“I wanna see this hidden personality, pretty boy,” She smiled with her teeth, and he felt his hands turn jittery in embarrassment.
“Okay, alright,” Spencer shook his arms out, clearing his throat with a growling sort of husk that made her raise her brows, and in a single blink he’d locked stern eyes with her, pointing to her with a completely un-Spencer-like stance; completely rose to his full height, confident and domineering, “I know what you’re thinking,”
She really hoped he didn’t. Because what she was really thinking was just how hot he sounded with that deep sort of timbre, that cocksure attitude.
“You’re thinking ‘Did that guy just fire five shots or did that guy just fire six shots?’” He went on, his tone deadly serious, as her lips parted in surprise, and what had started out as a game turned into some wildly lewd thoughts fast, “You’re going to have to ask yourself a question; Do you feel lucky, pun-k,”
She swallowed haughtily, as he squeezed his eyes shut and when he looked at her again he was entirely puppy like the way he usually looked, none the wiser to the way her stomach had coiled in want.
“That was Clint Eastwood from Dirty Harry,” He explained, looking to Penelope because he had no idea what that strange look on Bugsy’s face was, only to see his techy friend just as in awe, “I mean I know it’s not as effective as my dominant personality, but I really think it’s there-”
Penelope’s phone sprung to life with a call from Hotch and she quickly spluttered an excuse that they needed to leave right away, grabbing for her keys and heading for the door.
Spencer made a move to follow her, only to feel a hand grab his shirt and turn him right back around, Bugsy still staring at him with that look in her eye, like she’d had too much caffeine or been told there was a million dollars cash waiting for them at home.
“Is everything okay-”
“Is Clint Eastwood strictly a party trick or would I be able to have him on request, maybe?” She said, her hands oddly tight as they grabbed at his soft stomach, and it was like he heard the click in his brain when he realised what she meant.
“R-request, I guess,” He stumbled for composure, finding his footing when he felt her palms were clammy, “You got a thing for cops?”
“Just the one, I guess,” She said with a clenched jaw, and he laughed though it sounded more like a choke, as she darted right behind Penelope to avoid suspicion.
–
By the time the party rolled around, Penelope had decked her apartment out to the nines, marigolds and tissue garlands and lights and food of all sorts spread out across the altar, a mix of alcohol and juices available in pitchers, because Penelope was nothing if not a people pleaser.
The doorbell rang right as Alex and Bugsy poured themselves some margarita, complete with the eyeball ice cubes ofcourse, and Penelope fussed in her beautiful dress, muttering under her breath the way she did when she was nervous.
“What, what, what,” She murmured, her blonde curls bouncing with her steps as she reached for the door, “I thought you said you couldn’t come!”
Bugsy’s head whipped to the door, Aaron looking much more casual than they were used to seeing him as he entered the decorated home, his colleagues all dressed smartly and in some shade of black.
“Jack got a last minute sleepover invitation so I hope it’s okay,” He said, a bottle of rosé in his hand he’d brought as a contribution.
“Ofcourse, ofcourse,” Penelope sang, leading him over to the altar where everyone stood with their offerings, sipping on their glasses of liquor, “Okay, everybody, I guess it’s time to start, here you go sir,”
She handed him a freshly poured glass of wine, chilled courtesy of the eyeball, and Aaron thanked her kindly, taking a generous sip to catch up with the others.
“I want to thank everybody for doing this with me, and our altar’s burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here,” Penelope started with a grateful smile on her painted lips, a handful of old photos between her fingertips, “I will start, um, this is my mom and dad,” She said, nostalgia idling her tone as she gently placed down a worn picture of a teen couple holding a beautiful, blonde girl, eyes bigger than moons and full of curiosity, just how Bugsy would have imagined Penny as a baby, “I miss them. And this is my cat, Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He was a weird cat,”
The team chuckled, looking at the enormous ginger Tom that lapped at the bubbly liquid. Bugsy took a sip of her drink as JJ took a step forward with a smile, her own photo in hand.
“This is my sister, Roselyn. Ros.” JJ said, placing down a photo of a fifteen year old with identical eyes and nose to her, sitting it next to a small statue of the eiffel tower, “She always dreamed she’d live is Paris so um,” She swallowed, looking at her sister laying in the grass of their childhood home, something girlish in her gaze, “It didn’t happen but I thought this would bring her some happiness,”
They took it in turns bringing their offerings and pictures: David bringing some Cubs tickets for a soldier he had lost in Vietnam, Alex bringing a crossword for her mother, Spencer sliding down a picture of Maeve silently, alongside a cut out picture of Nikola Tesla, Morgan bringing his father, Hitch putting down the picture of Haley he kept in his wallet.
Which left them all to turn to the youngest agent, who seemed flustered.
“So, I fortunately have not lost anyone properly thus far, so bare with me here guys,” She said fishing out an old scrapbook photo of her as a seven year old, a small orange snake wrapped around the length of her arm, twenty two year old Emily standing right behind her, the pair of them with beaming smiles as the snake seemingly poked its tongue out for the camera.
Penelope clutched her chest in horror, “Is that a-”
“This is Tigger, the corn snake Emily gave to me when she left home,” She explained, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the million dollar grin she had in the photo, three of her front teeth missing sweetly, “I had him until I was about twelve before he kicked the serpent bucket, but he was cute for a slithery little guy,”
She drew another photo, an ultrasound showing two tiny embryos and she put it beside the picture of Tigger, and the group drew a shared breath.
“Bug, I never knew you were…” Spencer started, his stomach flipping when he saw the outline of the foetuses, only for the girl’s eyes to widen.
“No! No, it’s not like that, this is um,” She cleared her throat awkwardly, scratching the back of her hand with a guilty look, “This is the twin I absorbed in the womb,” She said, and she felt the rest of her team gawking at her without having to look, “I guess I’d like to say, uh, I’m sorry pal. It was nice while it lasted, I hope you can forgive me,”
“You’re being serious?” Morgan asked, gawping at the girl, right as Hotch broke out into disbelieving snickers, probably spurred on by the wine, and Alex was quick to join him, her hand over her mouth.
Bugsy turned to him with a ‘duh’ kind of look on her face, “Oh, 100% serious, yeah,”
“Is that why you’re a little…” Rossi started, only he found himself stuck for words when she looked at him betrayed.
“A little, what?” She asked, looking to JJ who cracked into a chuckle, putting her head in her palm.
“What he means is you have a big personality,” Alex said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder and giving her a motherly squeeze, hoping they hadn’t offended her, “And we wouldn’t change it for the world,”
“I should hope so, she got a double helping.” Morgan cackled, and Bugsy smacked his arm with a smile.
“Every time I think I know everything about you, you come out with something new,” Penelope said, her own snickering laugh meeting the girl’s ears, “You’re like Jason Bourne,”
“God help us if there had been two of you, Prentiss,” David added, patting the girl on the head as they laughed, and Penelope raised a toast to their altar, the rest of the team doing the same before they sipped out their cups and allowed themselves to enjoy the rest of the party.
–
“Oh, I have something for you!” Bugsy said, springing to her feet and almost tripping over Sergio who had curled up by her legs.
She’d cut herself off after her third, and by the time midnight rolled around she’d almost completely sobered up enough to the point her and Alex had been playing hangman except with only Old English words.
Her and Spencer had gotten home twenty minutes later, the two of them exhausted from an evening well spent, the melancholy happiness in the room draining them to the point Bugsy had immediately changed into her pyjamas when she got into the house.
Her pyjamas being Spencer’s boxers and one of his shirts since he’d inadvertently been hiding all of the underwear-top combinations she’d gotten from other flings that she’d brought when she moved into his.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” He said earnestly, and she simply waved his humble attitude off, the two of them sat on the sofa in their nightwear, flicking through the late night TV.
He smiled, watching her bustle into her room and root around her closet, before she emerged with a terracotta coloured pot of lilac flowers, whirling on her heel to head for him.
“What’s this?” Spencer asked, standing to meet her and Bugsy simpered, because she’d felt silly for buying them in the first place. Perhaps it was some left over guilt considering she’d spent the majority of Maeve’s existence in her life hating the girl, or atleast hating what she had that Bugsy thought she could never be privy to. Perhaps it was because all things considered she wanted Spencer to know that it was okay for him to mourn, because she’d never force him to hurry up his process when he’d been there for every second of hers.
She handed him the potted plant, the small purple petals in the shape of half moons lighting up at him, and his mind raced as to what species they were since he’d certainly never seen them around the East Coast before.
“Scaevola aemula,” She said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt around her waist as she spoke because his eyes were unnervingly doe-like when he looked at her in the dark lamp light, “It’s called the fairy fan flower. I thought-"
She paused, her expression morphing into embarrassment, "Wait, this is so stupid, I’ll send them back,” She shook her head, the worry overtaking the rational part of her as she grabbed for the pot to stash it back in her room, but he held it out of her reach, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body against his hip, as the other stretched out to keep her from snatching back the plant.
“Tell me. What?” He said, his lips stretching into a devious smile to see her so shy suddenly, and she buried her face into her hands as he watched her, “I'm not going to think it's stupid. Why did you get me these?”
“They’re not for you- well, they are, but I just thought,” She stumbled over her sentences, her heart thumping that this was entirely the wrong move, that she was poking at an open wound no matter how caring she was being. Clearing her throat, she let her forehead thump onto his shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she spoke, “I thought you could keep it so that you can think of Maeve every time you water it, since Maeve was the name of the fairy queen,”
He was quiet. God, why was he so quiet? Her breath was thick as molasses as they sat in the silence for a second. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when two of his fingers ran delicately beneath her chin, tilting her head up enough that he could see her face and she drew a sigh of relief when she saw he didn’t seem angry or hurt at all.
His eyes were soft as pools of honey as he looked at her, his brows stirring into a sad-happy mix.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” She whispered, their faces so close they were sharing breath, and he shook his head, his fingers never leaving her skin where they forced her to stay near, gave her no choice but to keep her looking at him. She didn’t think she could stop even if she wanted to. Everything pretty about him was dialled to a thousand whenever she got close, and his thick lashes blinked at her like he was seeing a mirage, a daydream.
“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, Bug,” Spencer murmured back to her, his every word fanning over the bridge of her nose, and she sighed in content, melting back into his side as he pulled her into a hug, his own face burying into the crook of her neck, “Thankyou,”
She smiled and hummed in happiness, wrapping her arms around his slender waist and drawing him so close she got a whiff of his shampoo.
“I have a bigger pot in my room, if you like, then we can keep it in the kitchen sill, away from the boys,” She offered, beaming at him when he stroked over the back of her hair affectionately. She hopped out of the embrace, “I’ll go get it for you-”
“You’ve done enough, Bug,” Spencer reminded, something grateful in his tone as she paused and waited for whatever he was going to say, “I’ll go get the pot, you go decide what movie we should watch,”
“You’re sure?” Bugsy asked, her brows furrowed as she checked for signs of an escape in his movements. But he just smiled back at her tiredly, the purple flowers his accomplice as she gave in and headed back towards the sofa, “It’s by my dresser, where my paper bin used to be,”
He set the gift on the kitchen table, the lilac hues brightening up the kitchen already like they just knew how touched Spencer felt to have received them, like there really was some kind of fairy magic burrowed into the soil as they watched the two of them dance around one another, heading to opposite ends of the apartment with lingering glances and bashful smiles.
Spencer thought his chest couldn’t swell any bigger in size, his heart so inevitably full of her, it left room for no one else, not even Maeve, which was the first time he’d brought himself to think that in months.
+1 The one with the book.
He opened the door to her bedroom, her duvet tossed everywhere because it was a rare occasion she made her bed before they left for work, her clothes strewn about the floor in the general direction of the bathroom, like she’d stripped on the way there, and the thought of it made his stomach seize with a heat, the idea of her undressing little more than a wall away from him knocking his every thought from his head.
The vase. He needed a bigger vase.
Quickly collecting her clothes up and shoving them into her laundry basket for her, he diverted his attention to her dresser, where the slightly roomier pot sat on the floor, a towel underneath it to catch any water remnants and he stepped over her various note pads and books she’d clearly tossed off the bed before she went to sleep.
He tried to ignore them, he really did, but his scratching urge to keep things tidy for her wrestled with his conscience that said to leave her stuff alone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself organising them into a neat pile in his hands and placing them on top of her dresser where one of her books had made it safely, or at least safe enough she wouldn’t trip over it.
His gaze dropped to the book already on there, its leather cover entirely melting into the background of the dark chestnut dresser, yet it stared daggers up at him like it had been waiting to be noticed.
Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.
The book looked old enough to be easily from original 1900s, at least one of the first few hundred published. It was scuffed a little on the edges, the black lettering of the printed title choppy in places where it had been handled recklessly, and the leaves of paper were atom thin. The smell of dust and paper clouded his nose when he picked it up delicately.
Opening the front cover curiously to see its printed date, he was stopped in his tracks to see a little post it note on the title page, covering Mr Dickens’ name with a scrawled handwriting he’d known for six years.
Six whole years. Nearly seven. He felt like he’d known her his whole life, when in startling reality he’d not even known her a third of it.
And there it was, where he was expecting a list of notes or her thoughts on how David Copperfield had much more likeable characters, anything that she’d thought important enough to scratch down on the front page, instead was his name.
Spencer,
He felt his breath catch the second he read it, contemplated slamming the book shut right then and there because this felt illicit to read whatever it was she’d scribbled out just for him even if it was dedicated to the stupid man who’d been asking her to wait on his stupid head and stupider heart to align so he could give her exactly everything she deserved.
His gaze snapped away from the page, that voice in his head telling him this was wrong, that if she’d wanted him to see that book she would have given it to him already. And yet, like it did most days, the beating organ in his chest writhed in annoyance that he’d looked away, that he’d followed the rules one too many times for its liking. He bit his cheek, the two halves of himself arguing amongst themselves.
After a second of debating, his eyes fell slowly to the note, a creeping guilt skirting down his spine that he was reading something private. How could something be private and yet meant for him? His brain scoffed at the dichotomy of it all, while his chest lurched when he caught a glimpse of more of her writing.
‘Spencer,’ His heart trembled almost as much as his hand as he traced the writing with his forefinger, imagining her writing it out in a little ball point pen, her body slumped over the book with every intent of having him read her little note. He imaged her breath fanning across the page, her hand warm as her knuckles stroked over the paper, and it felt so much more intimate than a little post-it when he thought of her like that, ‘By the time you’re reading this I’ll be back home from London and we’ll probably be in your apartment doing that stupid thing we do when we pretend like I haven’t missed you more than anything in the whole world while I’ve been here in England,’
She wrote this in London, probably in that tiny apartment her and Emily had rented on a short lease, the one she’d said smelled like mildew and dust and wet wood but had a gorgeous view of Hyde Park when she looked out her bedroom window.
She’d written it months ago, so why hadn’t she given it to him?
‘I miss you every day. You’re all I think about when I go for a run, and I think sometimes you’d really like it here. I’ve mapped out all the bookshops I’ve found and all the places that do really good coffee if you ever did want to visit England, but I think I’d be happy with you even if we lived in a little ditch on the side of the road like two drowning rats,’
His chest seized, tears lining his lashes when he thought about that day she’d yanked him into a hug the second she saw him, when he’d been too busy thinking about Maeve and burying whatever he felt for Bugsy entirely behind him.
You should have called, Bug. He’d said, like his eidetic memory wanted to twist the knife in just that bit deeper, and he didn’t need his freaky brain to remember how her face had fallen when he’d said it like that. Like he didn’t even want to see her.
He hated himself. He hated himself more than she’d ever had. Even if she had more rights than anyone to despise his selfish guts.
‘Anyway, I know Dickens isn’t your favourite or anything, but I got you this because I know you like the original copies and because it made me think of you (but then again, what doesn’t?).
I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine. And so I guess that means I’ll love you until the life part stops too.
All my heart,
Bug.’
He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he finished the note, digesting every single word the average speed instead of his usual method of inhaling the letters faster than should be possible, like he wanted to savour every single one because they’d come from her.
He heard her saying every single one, the thought striking him like someone had cracked him across the face with a paddle. She’d wanted to say all of this when she was in London, when he’d been too busy for her, when he’d been too busy with Maeve.
I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine.
“Did you find it?” Her voice called from the other room, no doubt where she was settling down to flick the movie on, her heart so delicate and gracious because she was still waiting for him.
Even now, even when she was in his clothes and under the blanket she’d brought from her apartment for them to use on movie nights because it got cold too fast in his house, when she was waiting for him to come back.
Spencer felt knocked out of a dream, like someone had yanked the chord on his music, shaken him awake into the freezing realisation she was waiting for a reply.
He’d made her wait long enough.
He barely heard her footsteps entering her own room, probably worried when he hadn’t responded and she said his name, “Spence?” A shudder rolled over his neck when he heard it, a siren song he’d been hearing like a mantra for weeks and he felt something fat and full well in his chest when he turned to look at her, standing there in nothing but boxers and a shirt, just as she had when he’d first met her.
Except she was his. She was waiting on his call, on his signal, on his word go.
And it was like the idea of being with her for the rest of his life made his living part worth it too. Like it always had done.
Her eyes fell down to where his hand rested on top of the book, the page splayed open where he’d delicately flicked it open, the yellow post-it catching in the light and making her expression fall.
They looked at each other, the same thought channelling between them, their brains meshed together on some other kind of bluetooth the same way they’d always done, only this time it was a prickling hive mind that gave them both gooseflesh the second they locked eyes.
“Why didn’t you give me this?” He asked, his voice small because he already knew the answer, not daring to move a muscle like she was some kind of deer ready to be spooked.
“You were busy,” She said equally as sheepish, her thumb moving to pick the side of her nail when she saw his still stature. They went quiet again, neither of them daring so much as to breathe too loud because they both knew what was on that note. It was the closest she could ever come to splitting open her own chest and handing him that thumping wad of bloodied muscle herself, and it was only when he turned to look at her did she panic, words tumbling from her lips; anything to stop him from walking away because she’d been poking around a fresh wound, “You weren’t supposed to see- I mean you were but only when you wanted to, I didn’t want you to think-”
Except he wasn’t heading for the door like she’d thought, he was heading straight for her.
“Spence, please, I wasn’t going to tell you until-” But she’d shut up, because instead of replying anything back to her, instead of telling her she could have his heart and his soul and everything in between if she’d ever ask for it again, instead of telling her she was the thing that had kept him alive, like she might as well be the blood that rushed through every one of his veins, he grabbed her face in his hands so hard her back hit the wall, her hands flying out to stop herself from falling.
And he kissed her, so hard he thought he might cry because it was better than any high he’d ever had, any drug on the market, better than his wildest dreams. She froze for a second, worried she’d tripped and fallen on her way over, that this was a concussion spun wild, because there was no way he was kissing her with every inch of their available skin pressing against one another, his hands swallowing her cheeks whole, his body invading her space, his breath rushing through her nose that bumped against his clumsily.
Bugsy woke up after a second, her hands gripping onto his slender waist like he was pulling her drowning out of water, like he was dragging her from a flame which she didn’t think sounded too far off since her skin had become molten, her cheeks hot, her chest wrenching for control like she’d inhaled black smoke.
But he was there, kissing her like she was all he had left, and she kissed him back with equal fervour, whimpering when he bit her lip, a hand wrapping around her waist to tug her just that bit closer to his stomach. Any molecule of her that was left behind was stolen by the action, and all she could think was that every inch of her was his, entirely his, his forever if he wanted it.
“I love you, I love you so much,” He gasped, drawing away for a split second of air before he took her lips to his own once more, twice, and a third for good luck, their teeth knocking together as he wanted to tell her that a million more times while still kissing her, “I love you, I love you. God, I don’t think I ever want to stop saying it,”
He pulled her to him again, silencing his own stupid ramblings of a mad man, a whine dragging from his throat as his brows furrowed, his lips soft and plump as he kissed her like he was begging for honey after a hundred day fast.
And she smiled into his mouth, because Spencer was finally hers.
--
taglist
@release-your-sweets s @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3
@rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover r @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @green_vita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @splatteredpurplepaint @pieceuvmind @jiuseoks
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#matthew grey gubler x reader#Matthew gray Gubler x reader
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Rafe roughly fingering virgin!reader 😊
(I see this as Rafe season 3 episode 7 at the party. So imagine you were Sofia in that moment 💦)
He would invite you over to a party at Tannyhill now that he ran the house. You’d be shy as you walked through the crowd of unfamiliar people until you saw him talking to a shorter man with the same buzzcut. You didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, getting ready to turn away when you heard his voice call you.
“Hey. You made it.” His voice soft as he got up from where he was sitting. You noticed the smirk on his friend’s face, making you blush at the sudden attention you were getting. Especially since you were only in a small bikini, the thin coverup not doing much to hide anything.
He towered over you in height as he stepped closer. His cologne making you weak in the knees as he wrapped his arm around your lower back. He took his Ray-Bans off with his free hand, those stunning ocean eyes now staring down at you. “You want something to drink?” He asked, his manners and hospitality being a plus.
The music bumped throughout the mansion as Rafe held your hand, leading you to the kitchen. You were new to the Outer Banks, not knowing how popular the last name Cameron really was. Everyone there greeted him as if he was royalty, making you feel special that you could be wrapped on his arm.
“Only very important people are aloud up here.” Rafe told you as he led you through the upstairs balcony away from everyone else. The way he said that made your heart race, the heat going straight to your virgin core.
Your tongues lazily moved together as you both sat against the couch, his hands traveling further down to your aching sex. You weren’t sure if it was the poorly mixed drink or he really just had this much of an effect on you, but you found yourself shyly spreading your legs. The dark chuckle against your lips as he pulled back made you let out a kitten like whimper.
“You want me to play with your pussy, pretty girl?” His voice about the sexiest thing you ever heard.
You found yourself nodding, finding it hard to form the words to tell him that you were still a virgin. It wasn’t exactly something you blurted out on the regular. You just really hoped it wouldn’t turn Rafe away, he definitely knew what he was doing. “I- I’ve never been touched down there before.” You whispered softly.
His hand stopped for a moment, an amused laugh coming out as he smirked against your cheek. “Shit…” His voice drawing out into a low groan. His hand pulled your bikini bottoms to the side roughly, holding the material back as he smacked your cunt hard. You let out a squeak, not expecting that same hand to shove two fingers down your throat without warning. Gagging at the intrusion, his left arm pulled you onto his lap.
“Get those fingers wet, slut.” Rafe’s low tone in your ear.
You whimpered around them, sucking them into your mouth like your life depended on it. You wanted to be such a good girl for him, doing quite literally anything as long as he was the one it could be with. His fingers abruptly pulled out, shoving themselves into your virgin hole. You let out a gasp, your toes curling at the roughness.
“Rafe- too much.” You squeal out, his digits thick as he thrusted them in.
His ring and middle finger pushed through your tight hole, his knuckle hitting your cunt at a brutal pace when he slid them back in. “Hey, you wanna know something? My dick is huge.” He said, his left hand now coming up to grip your throat. “This is nothing compared what I’m about to do to this virgin cunt.” He spat, the gentleman now gone.
You cried out, pussy clenching around his fingers as he fucked them into you at a brutal pace. His hand was pressing against your throat, your brain fuzzy as the oxygen was being taken from you. Your poor body was betraying you, squeezing his digits as your pathetic pussy began to squirt everywhere.
“There she is. Make that pretty pussy cry for me.” He groaned into your ear, fingers slapping your sopping hole to make more gush out.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe concepts#rafe coded#rafe core#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron blurb#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey smut#obx#obx smut
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you know what's delicious? yn who started wearing flavored lip balm/lip tint because of suguru — so that every time suguru ate a curse, he could just easily pull the man into a kiss to get rid of the disgusting taste suguru hates so much ((bonus points if yn also pops in a candy/sweet/chocolate in his mouth before feeding it to suguru through a kiss — anything to help suguru forget the taste of curses)) yeah... just... suguruyn for the win man 😋🫶
((even more bonus points when satoru finds out later and he gets all jelly because 1. he doesn't know the lip balm/lip tint can come with a flavor so he felt blindsided and of course, he humphs and puffs because of it and 2. he wanted a chocolatey sweetness kissies too!!!! and of course lastly, 3. he felt left out because he never knows that suguruyn always makes out every single time suguru ate a curse so he's all pouty about it — ask him to join in next time!!!))
❝ He's just like candy, he's so sweet ❞
polycule (Satoru x r! x Suguru)) | alternate universes (Suguru is not a cult-reader), fluff, NSFW | vers. bottom. reader (AMAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 3.6k
warnings: foodplay, threesomes, pouty satoru & smug suguru, semi-public sex, d/s dynamics
masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's
author's note: in this au, they slayed
the links that made me lose my mind (thank you @xuxitheii for making me squeal and kick my feet):
geto suguru : gojo satoru : gojo satoru being a big baby
Curses. Ugly as sin and tastes just as foul. Suguru remembers the first time he discovered he could devour them; how awful it felt as it went down his throat, bulging out and staying there — blocking his airway as he struggled to find it in himself to swallow.
The way his teeth ached. His throat convulsed and his instincts forced it back up but his fingers blocked it from doing so. It warbled in the back of his mouth, begging to be let out and 7-year-old Suguru just knew he couldn’t bear for it to disturb him again. He couldn’t handle it speaking nonsensically into his ear, slinking under his bed or even staring right at him as it grinned so wide Suguru swore he could see his reflection in its yellow, wicked-sharp, teeth.
The pills his parents (his poor, non-sorcerer, parents) had given him to help with his “hallucinations” made him feel as though a thick fog was obscuring his brain. His thoughts faded and his movement groggy, his emotions caged while his body still felt the anxious tremors that ran through him when he saw them.
The curses made him feel like he was constantly in a deep pit of despair. Everything wrong in the world, the depravity and impulses of humanity that manifested into these grotesque creatures in the palm of his hands made his nose sting, till this day, as an 18-year-old; it made his eyes well with tears.
Suguru can't describe it in a way people could understand. But if asked, he’d used the viscera of a vomit rag being forced down your throat.
But the strong protect the weak. While your lips protect them from his ire. This one goes down with a loud gulp, his fingers blocking his lips as he tosses his head back. The worst is almost over, the aftertaste will linger but not for long. Because then, he feels your weight on his chest and Suguru is pliant as you gently pry his fingers away.
“You did a good job, baby.” Suguru flutters his eyes open and he can’t help the way his lips twitch eagerly. Your lips are glossier than usual, he can smell the cherry flavour on them. His hands wrap themselves around your waist. It’s a firm grip.
Mine, he says without speaking, mine — all mine.
He pulls and a huff of air escapes you in a series of chuckles. “I know we haven’t been out in a while, but did you miss me that much, Su-Su?” Suguru frowns at your jest. It’s rare for him to pout. That role is often delegated to your boyfriend, Satoru. So this must truly upset him.
Because, yes, he did.
You’d been called overseas to complete a mission. It was the norm for sorcerers considering the population of sorcerers in Japan; outsourcing they called it. Your curse technique was needed for this mission and truly, it didn’t take long but Suguru had done solo missions and he missed you.
Three solo missions. Three disgusting, dog-shit, vomit-stained rags, down his throat. Three days without you by his side.
He hated it.
“Don’t ask a silly question like that ever again,” he mumbles. Silly. The way he scolds you always makes you smile. Never crass or rude — his voice reminds you of the symphony of leaves singing with the wind as they danced and speckled light onto the forest floors and cool water bubbling over rocks.
“Why? Why can’t I ask silly questions?” You tease, placing your elbows on his shoulder and hanging your hands behind him. Purposefully lax despite the coquettish smile on your face.
“You already know the answer.” He speaks with such sincerity. Every word is heavy with nothing but candour and adoration. It makes your eyes soften and Suguru squeezes you closer.
“I do?” He nods at your words, the tip of his nose brushing over yours and his tan skin so flushed on the apples of his cheeks.
“Kiss me like you miss me, baby.”
Suguru’s lips land on yours like a feather. Supple as always he begins it with a long-lasting peck. Pouty lip against pouty lip. His hands climb up your back and he presses between your shoulder blades to somehow hold you closer; his jaw opens and yours does the same. There it is — that heaven that’s your mouth. Suguru groans and you feel his tongue sneaking in, devouring you like a starved man.
The cherry flavour on your lips, the sweetness of the candy you let melt on your tongue, the way your fingers grip his hair, the way he can feel your breath on his cheek as you try to breathe. He wishes that the two of you never needed air. Suguru wants nothing more than to kiss you forever and ever and ever —
“Hey!”
You part with a gasp, cheeks warm and lips almost bruised as the line of spit between the two of you breaks. At the mouth of the alleyway was your boyfriend; Gojo Satoru.
His arms are crossed and he taps his foot in a cartoonish fashion. Despite that, both of you know that the frown on his face is very much real. “What gives? I exorcised the other curses and I came back to the two of you making out. So unfair!”
Suguru parts with a sigh, rolling his eyes to the side and pouting his lips to the side as he muttered about Satoru having FOMO. It makes you giggle and he smiles when you lean forward to place your face right under his jaw.
“S’toru, you’re being a baby. Suguru did a lot of work and I was just thanking him.” Satoru unfolds his arms and flaps them around in protest.
“I did work too!”
And it has begun — Satoru’s famous little tantrums. Oh, he could go for a full hour if he was really worked up but there is a saving grace in him having them. He closes his eyes when he’s yappering. Suguru is listening to his huffy boyfriend but then you kiss his chin and he tilts his face down to look at you.
“Hm?” your teeth brush over his lower lips, then plant firmly on his. “Baby?” he smiles in the lip-locking and you whine about it because his lips should not stretch into that handsome smile, they should be pursed outward and part to let you in.
He tastes chocolate on your tongue. The creaminess of the chocolate makes him groan along with the citrusy notes. That combined with the fruitiness of the cherry tint on your lips makes the taste of the curses he’d ingested (exorcised) all but disappear. Your hands climb to the lobe of his ears and his breath hitches when your fingers trail the curve of it, he protests a bit as you undo his bun; then you whisper his name and Suguru tightens his grip on your waist.
“Hey!”
Satoru is whining again but this time he’s closer. Close enough for Suguru to grab a fistful of Satoru’s white button-up and pull him in. As his face turns you giggle, wiping away some smeared gloss as you watch Satoru turn red from Suguru’s heated kiss.
Satoru groans with his eyebrows twitching. Listless in his attempt to remain angry at Suguru. He pounds his fist against Suguru’s shoulder and attempts to crane his neck away. When he turns, he gasps as you steal his breath.
Satoru’s graceful legs tumble over themselves as his boyfriends press him to the rough wall of the alleyway. There’s a constant hum of an A/C machine and the noises from the pipes keep the intimate noises between the three of you contained. Suguru’s blunt nails drag onto the faded plastered-on advertisements — yours grip onto the bars of the window that had been covered up by old newspapers.
Satoru’s grip onto the front of both of your shirts. His glasses go askew as he struggles to keep up with his boyfriends. Suguru misses Satoru so much. He’d been away too, the Higher Ups sending him overseas at the same time as you and Shoko had to deal with a depressed Suguru for those 3 days.
“Mah, Satoru,” you drag your lips to Satoru’s sensitive neck. His hands don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. It grips and pushes and stutters. “I always give Suguru special kisses after a job well done, you’ve just always been too busy to notice.”
“S’not fair,” Satoru retorts with no real venom in his words. “I deserve special kisses too, don’t I?” Suguru chuckles, forcing Satoru to look his way and shut him up. Satoru glares over the rim of his crooked glasses as Suguru’s thumb presses down on his canines.
“What a jealous brat.”
“Can’t even handle a little teasing.”
Satoru would heavily disagree with that. A little teasing? You called being pushed to a wall, groped, kissed, and bitten by your handsome and powerful boyfriends a little teasing?
Satoru was a sign of change, his birth instantly tipped the scales of the sorcerer world, but he was still human!
Suguru grins that irritatingly pleased grin when Satoru’s protests die out thanks to your hands slipping down his pants. “Oh shit,” he hisses. His speech is odd with Suguru’s thumb in his mouth, casually inspecting it. But you laugh anyway.
“You know, since he has been away too, maybe he does deserve a bit of sugar from you, (Y/N).” You glance at Suguru, your cock chubbing up in your pants as he pointedly motions his gaze to the ground. You kneel in front of Satoru and drool slips down his chin as his pupils chase after you. Suguru chuckles, wiping it away and wiping it off on Satoru’s shirt — to which he hears no complaint. Suguru stands behind you, bending at his waist to peer down. It’s unfair how pretty he is from any angle. The Gods took their time making him. Of that, you are certain.
“Ready, sweetheart?” you nod, opening your saccharine-sweet mouth; Suguru pats your cheek as praise and undoes Satoru’s pants for you. His cock springs out, nearly bumping into your nose as it strains and twitches in the open air. When Suguru holds it, Satoru grunts and raises his hips. Fucking into his fist like a dog in heat. Suguru regards this with a shake of his head and guides Satoru to your mouth. You form a fist around your thumb, looking up at Satoru through your lashes as you wrap your lips around him.
Suguru straightens his composure. He takes in the sight.
Satoru and you know better than to be handsy. The pale-haired man grabs onto the bars of the window behind him, breathing through his nose as the toe of his shoes dig into the floors. You slip your eyelids close and languish in the taste of Satoru’s cock — breathing through your nose as well as you bob your head.
Fuck, Suguru missed this. He really did. He could get off on this alone. Just watched as both of you enjoyed the other. His darling boyfriends, who so obediently listen to his whims even if he didn’t say it out loud.
Who could ask for more?
Suguru strokes over your eyebrow and barely stifles a laugh when you tilt your head so Satoru’s tip pokes your cheeks.
“Good boy. My sweet boy.”
His voice alone makes you want to give in to whatever it is he asks of you — it’s insane how much power and sway he has. Your charming Suguru.
Satoru moans, swiftly reaching out and gripping onto the collar of Suguru’s top. They kiss. Fighting for dominance because Satoru needs to be pushed into submission. He relishes being put in his place — smacked around a little.
You could pinpoint this kink originating from his frivolous childhood and naturally talented self needing some sort of edge to sink down into a more fuzzy headspace.
Or perhaps Satoru was just a brat and he trusted his lovers enough to relinquish that control. Both theories worked.
Suguru grunts as Satoru tugs at his hair, the pleasant tinge of pain making his dick strain against his loose pants. You spot it from the corner of your eyes, an obscene slurping sound coming from you as you attempt to not make this blowjob too messy. An impossible task, really. But a worthy effort.
“Your lips taste like cherry, why?” Satoru’s question catches Suguru off-guard. He expected Satoru’s usual quips and huffiness. He indulges.
“(Y/N) wore cherry-flavoured lipgloss.”
The proof is in the coloured streaks on his dick. You feel it twitch on your tongue and pull away, your hot breath on his cockhead making precum leak out of his blushing tip. You rest it on your velvet tongue, unabashedly pouting to kiss the tip and then taking him inside again. Those slightly shimmery streaks made Satoru grit his teeth.
“I didn’t know those came in flavours,” Satoru moans. “How come you don’t wear that for me too?”
“Because it’s for me, you little shithead,” Suguru growls lowly. Their foreheads touch as he tightens his grip on Satoru’s neck, the pressure making Satoru’s eyelids flutter for a second. “It’s my prize for exorcising curses.”
“You jealous?” you wonder out loud. The answer was clear but there was a rush to make Satoru admit it.
“Yes, I am!” He curses for a moment as you descend further down to lick at his balls, looking up at him still as if this conversation was taking place over a dinner table and not in an alleyway with society just a few meters away. As if his dick wasn't on your face while you feel his balls tightening up on your tongue.
Seriously, if somebody peered down long enough they would most definitely catch sight of the three of you here.
“I just – just...fuck, I missed the two of you too. It’s completely unfair you’ve been keeping this from me too! I’ll never forgive you.”
Suguru grabs the back of your neck and pulls you backward. His large hands effectively push your head down further and further until your nose is at the neat patch of pubic hair Satoru has. You relax your throat and jaw, eyes watering while you brace your hands on Satoru’s thighs.
“So why didn’t you just tell us that, darling?" Suguru purrs. "Instead, you chose to be a brat and stomp around. You’re better than that, Satoru. Aren’t you? Hm?”
You gag but Suguru holds you in place. His hand barely has any real strength behind it. If you jerked backward, he would not hold you in place. No, no. Suguru’s power comes from the lack of strength he needs to exhibit. His dominance is in the ease Suguru commands it.
"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed him inside of you.
“Screw you, Suguru,” Satoru chokes out.
He pulls you off. You cough, spit staining your chin as you smile loosely at them. Suguru then pulls you onto your feet, pushes you to the wall, and undoes your pants. You bite down on your lower lip, staring at Satoru as you brace your hands onto the wall just next to him. Satoru watches on, trying to keep himself strong by pretending he isn’t affected by the sight before him.
Suguru gathers spit in his mouth but pauses as he feels the candy wrapper in your pockets. The chocolate brand makes his brows raise. It’s expensive. No doubt Satoru’s influence had rubbed off on you. Only one company in the world made this chocolate, its pink colour is a dead giveaway. No wonder your cherry-flavoured gloss tasted so strong, it was complimented nicely by the leftover taste of this ruby chocolate.
He lets your pants pool around your ankles while he takes a bite. It wasn’t disgustingly soft, but your body heat made it melt quickly on his tongue. He spreads your ass apart and spits a thick glob of his spit and pink chocolate. The sensation sends shivers up your back and you arch your back further, unsure about the new sensation.
“Suguru, that was expensive — ngh!”
Your eyes widen as he presses his cock inside. You were thankful for your morning romp with them. It loosened you up enough that Suguru’s impatience didn’t cause pain and only mild discomfort — he reaches forward to jerk your cock off to ebb it away and you moan out his name.
“Shh, shh, not so loud. We’re still outside, baby.”
Satoru groans, reaching to toss his glasses away as he turns his back to the entrance and gives you his full attention. He’s craving touch. To taste or to mark you up. To do anything, really. He is goddamn hypnotized by the way Suguru’s dick thrusts in and out of you. Suguru gives you a good fucking for too short of a time — pounding into you like a jackhammer and making you nearly bite your tongue off in an attempt to keep quiet before he pulls out.
Your knees buckle, thighs twitching as you try to keep yourself upright. Satoru’s knees thud onto the floor and he greedily laps at Suguru’s cock, moaning at the creamy taste. The same flavour leaks out of you while you catch your breath. The mouth of the alleyway is quiet but there are still the faint noises of the city just there. A few big strides away. But there. It excites you. You imagine it’s exciting your equally perverted boyfriends too.
"Satoru," Suguru groans at the sight of him. You peel yourself from the wall. Shoulders thudding onto the hard surface while your pants drop to your ankles. Shakily, you use your feet to push it all the way off, eyes trained on Satoru savouring the flavour of Suguru and the ruby chocolate. He pulls away with a breathy 'pwah!' and strokes Suguru's creamy dick.
You're tempted to join Satoru. Just sharing Suguru's cock, kissing Satoru with his cockhead between your lips. Fuck, just the thought has your dick slapping lightly against your navel. Suguru plants a hand near your head, turning his head to kiss you while the other is tugging on the roots of Satoru's head. a
"Both of my boys are being so obedient," he says after a deliciously deep groan of Satoru's name. "We missed you," you reply in a whiny whisper.
"Missed you so much, S'guru..."
Satoru moans, pulling away as he catches his breath and shares a heated gaze.
"Fuck, I missed you so badly. Missed this dick too," Satoru turns to your crotch and kisses the underside of your dick. It makes your breath hitch, hips jerking forward. The wetness of your precum smears on Satoru's cheek a bit but he doesn't even mind. Nor does he seem to notice.
"These cocks are the only ones that make me this hungry."
Suguru glances at the alleyway. You're not loud enough to draw attention. Still, better safe than sorry.
"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
You throw your head back to laugh. A veil was meant to conceal, protect those outside of it, and maintain secrecy. To use it so improperly.
The three of you were truly perverted.
"What's got you all giggly?" Suguru speaks against your lips. Tilting your chin upwards then squeezing the sides of your neck just to relish in the way you bare your neck to him.
"You used a veil," Satoru speaks for you. He raises, ignoring Suguru's pointed glance in favour of unbuttoning your shirt and kissing down your chest. His lips are sticky, smears of pink tainting you but you find it hard to care. "He's laughing because he thinks we're perverts."
"What are you? A mind reader now, Satoru?" You huff.
"I might as well be, huh?" Satoru smirks. He's so handsome that it makes your chest hurt sometimes. You're against the wall, exits blocked by Suguru and Satoru and you wouldn't have it any other way.
"You know, I missed you too. It's been weeks — "
"Three days," Suguru and you corrected.
"Weeks. And this morning wasn't enough. We did such a good job, those wrinkle bags can't complain if we just so happened to work overtime, right?"
Ijichi can't stop his cheek from heating up. It's painfully, painfully, obvious why the three of you took your time for this mission. He had waited in the car for the first hour, then occupied himself with some coffee at a nearby cafe but by the third hour, Ijichi almost called Principal Yaga.
Three Special Grade Sorcerers took that long to exorcise an abandoned building. Surely, something must have happened!
Yet, seeing you sleeping on Suguru's lap with your legs across Satoru's lap confirms the real reason why it took the three of you that long.
Satoru has a weighted eye mask, head tossed back as he recuperates. This gives Ijichi a clear sight of his marked-up neck. Your shirt is wrinkled, hitched up from the bend of your waist, and giving him the whispers of handmarks. Suguru met his gaze from the rearview and Ijichi whispered out an apology.
"No, please. We're sorry for keeping you waiting." Suguru is brushing your bangs back, gently wiping down some residual stickiness on your cheeks with wet wipes (that Ijichi had made a point to stock up on in the car after earlier missions involving you three).
"No, I understand," he says with a shaky voice. Sighing a little he laughed awkwardly from the driver's seat.
"You must've been missing them a lot for those three days they've been gone, Mr Geto."
Suguru's expression softens, leaning one shoulder down when Satoru leans to place his head on his shoulders.
"It's hard not to. I love them."
#s3thwrit3sstuff#reader insert#male reader#male reader insert#gay reader#male!reader#gojo satoru x male reader#geto suguru x male reader#jjk x male reader#satosugu x reader#satosugu x male reader
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[1:14 a.m. valentine’s day]
nothing filled you with pride like seeing hyunjin on stage— he bloomed under the spotlight like a flower whose petals only unfurled under the caress of the sun.
yet, a bit selfishly, it is in moments like these that you liked him the most. bare faced, cheek slightly squished against your pillow, his black wispy bangs falling upon his eyes, ones you delicately remove from his eyesight each time, as you are doing now, tucking some strands of it behind the curve of his ear. he responds by wrapping his fingers around your wrist and bringing your hand to his mouth, brushing your fingertips against his lips slightly— the softest to the touch, before bestowing a kiss on each one of them, his eyes never leaving yours.
it is in moments like these that you liked hyunjin the most, when he didnt feel the need to perform for anyone, where he existed in his most natural state, and where he chose to love you, so much, in it.
“aren’t you sleepy?” you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper. you’d do anything to preserve the quiet, barricade the door to the outside world with all your might if you had to.
“no,” he replies, just as softly, his hand falling to rest upon your cheek. “are you?”
“no,” you echo, as a traitorous yawn overtakes your lips. he giggles sweetly, head tipped back, as if his entire being needed to translate the happiness in his heart.
“liar,” he grins, pecking your nose tenderly, “you should sleep.”
“but it’s valentine’s day.”
“isn’t it tomorrow?”
“it’s already past midnight,” you point out and he hums, licking his lips slowly. the gesture brings you to his mouth, and a tiktok you saw earlier crosses your mind. hyunjin spots the mischievous glint in your eyes before you speak.
“i saw a good valentine’s makeup earlier,” you say, pointer finger gently tracing the contours of his face. “want me to try it on you?”
“right now?”
“it’s easy, and you’re not sleepy.”
“but you are,” he pouts and you giggle, kissing his frown away— it dissolves like sugar in tea from your warmth.
“i wanna stay up with you. hold on,” you quickly leave the bed and hyunjin whines immediately, flailing his arms in the air as he calls out for you.
“i’ve literally–“ you words are muffled as he brings you to his chest immediately upon your return, “-being gone for five seconds.”
“five seconds too long,” he mumbles against your neck, you let out a strangled squeal. “baby i cant breathe,” you heave and he lets you go, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he cradles your face, moving it from left to right.
“are you okay? can you breathe fine? should i perform CPR?” he rambles dramatically, voice growing high-pitched with each frantic question. you dont have time to answer before he crashes his lips on yours, taking your breath away once again, for an entirely different reason.
“is the CPR working?” he whispers against your mouth, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“idiot,” you giggle, pulling away from him, painstakingly, your lips refusing to part from his.
“so,” you finally clear your throat, sitting crisscrossed atop the covers. he follows suit, your knees bumping into one another. “the valentine’s makeup is just kisses all over your face, with lipstick. it’s a trend on tiktok, we can film it too…” you trail out, fully aware of his aversion to trends on that app.
“sure.”
“just like that?”
“what my baby wants my baby gets,” he grins, “please proceed.”
“yes mr. hwang, thank you mr. hwang,” you snort, unscrewing the cap of your lipstick. you apply a coat of the vibrant red to your lips, making sure to go over your cupid bow. hyunjin’s eyes never leave your figure. he leans in to kiss you as soon as you’re done.
“not yet!” you yelp, avoiding his kiss and his eyes grow so wide they start to resemble a full moon.
“i didn’t know this trend had rules,” a frown takes over his face and you giggle, running your thumb softly over the curve of his eyebrows.
“patience, baby,” you set up your phone, pressing record before handing it to hyunjin. he grabs it from you, a string of complaints falling from his lips. “can we go back to you rejecting my kiss, i actually cant believe you did that, i think that’s against the law–“ a soft kiss lands on hyunjin’s lips and he closes his eyes promptly, sighing into your mouth in relief. he quiets down, any sight of (dramatic) discomfort gone from his face.
“there,” you smile, before pressing a kiss to his cheek, it is a lingering one, trickled with a smile that does not want to leave your face, nor hyunjin’s, who’s grinning like a fool at the camera, a glazed sheen coating his eyes. next is his temple, then his nose, the tender skin beneath his eyes and the high of his cheekbones. kiss after kiss after kiss, imprint after imprint after imprint.
it is not your first time kissing hyunjin, far from your last, but there are still giddy giggles escaping your lips, making your teeth clash against his skin, making his eyes turn to moon crescents, ones the sky must be secretly jealous of.
you place a fleeting kiss on his chin, moving upwards to the corner of his mouth, then finally, what your hearts have been aching for, his lips, sweet like sugar as they meet yours, waves of love crashing into one another. the kiss deepens, as your hand runs through his hair, and he suddenly drops the phone, no longer caring about filming.
he grabs your jaw, angling it closer so he’d press your lips onto yours more deeply, and yet the kiss remains as soft, perhaps because it isn’t stringed along by lust, but by a tenderness that only manifests at 1 a.m. when you refuse to sleep because it’ll lead you away from hyunjin.
“you look so cute,” you whisper, as you finally part, your hands finding his jaw instantly.
“thanks to you,” his voice is silky as it drapes across your soul. your eyes soften, your hold on his face faltering. he is yours to love, under the shining light and the dim one. yours.
“happy valentine’s day, my angel,” he tilts his head to bestow a tender kiss on your palm. “thank you for loving me today too.”
“no, thank you for being so easy to love.”
#hyunjin x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#hyunjin fluff#skz imagines#let’s pretend it is still valentine’s day please and thank you 😁
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POST-OUTBREAK JOEL MILLER X FEM!READER
Joel feeling insecure about the large age gap you guys have
Warnings:
Large Age gap (reader is 28, Joel is 56), baby Ellie makes an appearance (ugh I love Bella Ramsey), lack of communication, hints to making out+Kissing+Sex, insults, body pain, crying.
—
• Joel first laid eyes on you when he and Ellie arrived to Jackson to settle down permanently.
• Tommy was giving Joel and Ellie a tour while you were taking a group of kids out of the Jackson daycare for a walk to the small playground.
• When Joel spotted you, he couldn’t help but stare at you and feel content watching how gentle and patient you were to the kids you were leading.
• Your warm smile that you flashed him when you caught him staring had him jump out of his daze and clear his throat, turning his attention back to Tommy’s voice.
• Ellie caught notice and nudged Joel’s shoulder, smirking and whispered, “Were you just staring at that pretty woman, Joel?”
• Joel had rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t”
• Ellie kept teasing him after that, making kissy faces to piss off the old man.
• The second time he saw you was at a Christmas gathering in the bar, strictly held for the adults a day before Christmas Eve.
• Tommy had brought you over to where Joel had been sitting on his own in the corner.
• “Joel, this is Maria and I’s close friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Joel, my brother. He just arrived to Jackson earlier this week with his girl, Ellie”
• Joel thought you were so much more beautiful up close. You looked so much…younger, up close. Not even a wrinkle in sight.
• You had to only be 27 or 28 years old.
• When you both shook hands and you stared at Joel with so much genuine interest in your eyes, wanting to know about him and asking him questions, his seemingly cold heart had turned so much warmer.
• The conversation between you both flowed so freely and smoothly that you barely even noticed Tommy had removed himself from the conversation to go work the bar.
• After that night at the bar, you edged your way slowly into Joel and Ellie’s life, baking them cookies and lending Ellie your comics, and having them over for dinner alongside Maria and Tommy.
• Skip to four, long months after Christmas Day, you and Joel were an official couple.
• Joel had his doubts about becoming a couple due to how much older he was than you, and also hadn’t felt the touch of a woman since Tess, yet he kept it to himself knowing that if he tried to talk to you about it he’d feel vulnerable and all mushy. Joel didn’t do that kind of stuff.
• So he kept it in, even though it was itching to come out when the judgmental stares from people around town increased whenever you both would show public affection.
• He almost opened up to you about it one night when the Tipsy Bison Bar was gathered with people all around Jackson who had threw an anniversary party for Maria and Tommy.
• Joel was actually enjoying himself, having his beautiful girl on his left arm and a cold beer in his right hand.
• A slow song had came on and Joel brought you to the small dance floor where all the other couple were slow dancing with their loved ones.
• Your arms were wrapped around his broad shoulders and his strong arms wrapped around your waist.
• Joel was so happy and relaxed to have you in his arms and swaying gently to the slow Elvis song in the moment, that he wasn’t even focusing on anybody who was possibly staring at you guys with questionable faces.
• It was when Joel’s cold beer bumped your bare skin where your shirt lifted up, and you squealed, wrapping your arms around him tighter,
“Jeez, Joel! It’s so cold!”
• He did it again out of amusement and was letting out soft laughs,
“Can you get the bartender to refill it for me, baby? Please?” He asked, planting a kiss on your forehead.
• You happily took it from him and he watched you teasingly sway your hips dramatically when walking away from him, knowing that it always made him blush and laugh at your joking attempt at being sexy.
• He watched you from where he was standing, you were waiting for the bartender patiently, occasionally turning around to give him a grin.
• All the alcohol Joel had been drinking that night caught up to his bladder, so he had went to use the bathroom.
• You finally got the bartender to fill Joel’s bottle, and before you could start walking back to where Joel was supposed to be on the wooden dance floor, a man, around your age had tapped your shoulder.
“Uh, Hi? Can I help you?” You looked at the man who had short black hair and a nose ring with a confused look on your face,
“I’m usually not this forward but, you are one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen here”
•You were used to men complimenting you around Jackson, so you just politely thanked him and looked around for Joel, not seeing him on the dance floor or sitting on any of the bar stools. Hoping he would walk away,
“You work at the Jackson Daycare, right?” You wanted to cringe at his attempts at small talk,
“Uh, yeah! I do” You didn’t ask him a question back, wanting him to get a hint that you weren’t interested in engaging in any broken flirting with him.
• He still wasn’t getting a hint, and Joel still was no where to be found,
“I have to ask pretty girl, are you seeing anyone at the moment?”
•You wanted to cringe again. ‘Pretty girl’ only sounded nice coming out of your boyfriend’s gruff voice.
• Speaking of your boyfriend, where the hell is he?
• There was a small line for the bathroom when Joel went, so it was taking longer than he thought it would.
• You looked at the man and gave him a tight lipped smile,
“I am, actually. I’m with my boyfriend” You responded to him.
• The young man looked around,
“And where is he? I don’t see him” You wanted to punch the cockiness out of him.
• That’s when Joel had came up behind the both of you,
“I’m right here”
• The tension released from your body when you heard your man’s voice,
“Hi” You kissed Joel on the cheek and slightly stood behind him, grabbing his arm to try and lead him to sit down. He wouldn’t budge from where he was now towering over the younger man,
“There a problem, young man?” Joel asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
• The man had laughed in disbelief,
“This grandpa is your boyfriend? Wow, unbelievable”
• You gave the man a dirty look and continued to tug less gently on his arm,
“Joel, c’mon. He’s not worth it”
• The man scoffed and stared at you,
“I’m pretty sure I’m worth more than this old fuck, bitch”
• That’s when Joel shoved the guy into the wall and clenched his fists,
“Joel, seriously! Let’s just walk away!”
• Tommy and Maria had rushed over to break up the two men, talking to them both, but their voices sounded blurry to Joel’s ears.
• Your face was becoming hot out of embarrassment due to the eyes from everyone in the bar all on you.
• You placed the beer on the bar counter and grabbed you and Joel’s coats from the hanger and walked over to him,
“Let’s go home, okay? It’s getting late, baby”
• Joel didn’t answer you, instead just taking his jacket out of your hands and walking ahead outside,
• Joel was quiet the whole way home. He wasn’t slipping his hand into the pocket of your jeans and giving you drunken kisses like he usually did on these nights.
• When you both got to his and Ellie’s house, he was still quiet.
• Though, he was being loud with his actions. Tossing his jacket to the side, kicking his boots carelessly off the carpet, and stomping up to his bedroom upstairs.
• Ellie, who was sitting on the lazy boy chair reading one of the comics you gave her, looked at you with a confused look,
“What’s up his asshole tonight?” You shook your head and rubbed your forehead,
“He got into a small fight at the bar. Nothing too serious” you said. Flopping down on the couch with a tired sigh,
“If it wasn’t serious, why is he acting like some fucking kid who got told he wasn’t allowed some candy?”
You laughed and shrugged,
“I really don’t know, honey. I wish I did”
• And it’s true, you really don’t know why that situation at the bar made him so angry.
• You knew Joel to be strong and get over his shit easily.
• Joel had been quiet and less affectionate for the next few days after that.
• The comments the much younger man made about Joel’s age really fucking got to him.
• Also the fact that the guy had the audacity to call you a bitch.
• What the guy said was getting to Joel’s head…what if a younger man was more worth your while? A man that didn’t groan and grunt when he sat down or up, a man that didn’t need massages before bed every night because of his constant aching bones, a man who was not old enough to be your dad.
• Joel was feeling insecure.
• Joel had finally opened up to you about it when you guys had the house to yourself.
• He had finished showering, a much needed shower after helping Maria clean the barn all day.
• When he walked into the bedroom, you we’re sitting pretty on the flannel sheets of the bed, a white night gown that Maria gifted you for Christmas draped over your body and a big smile on your face.
• Even though Joel had been in a foggy mindset since that night at Maria and Tommy’s anniversary party, looking at you never failed to make him crack a smile.
• He sat down on the bed, grunting when pain shot up his aching back,
“You okay, baby?” Your warm hand rubbed his shoulder, soothingly.
• Joel just nodded,
“I’m alright. Don’t worry about it”
• You frowned when it seemed like he didn’t want your touch.
• When he laid on his back, you, out of usual routine, straddled his lap, hopefully to have sex.
• It had been coming up on a week that Joel had barely touched you. Always wanting to to just head straight to bed,
“Sorry, sweetheart, not tonight. I can’t” Joel patted your bare thigh, signalling for you to lay down beside him.
• You became embarrassed, biting your lip and awkwardly getting off his lap,
“Oh, okay”
• Joel felt his heart slightly crack at the confusion and hurt in your voice.
• He wanted to so bad tell you how he felt, but he too felt embarrassed to mention how he had been stuck up all week because of the comments that guy made.
• He was hoping the problem would slowly solve itself.
• He looked at you when you sat up on your knees beside him, facing him who was laying down with one of his arms tucked under his neck,
“Joel, why have you been acting so weird with me all week?” You were chewing on your nail, staring at his face trying to study him.
• Joel felt his stomach drop. Oh god, here we go. He cleared his throat,
“What do you mean, baby?” He rubbed your knee with the hand that wasn’t behind his neck,
“You’ve been distant since that night at the bar. You’ve barely touched me or even seen me all week. Your just, distant. Ellie and Tommy see it, too” You placed your hand on top of his that was resting on your leg.
Joel sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t hide it anymore,
“I didn’t like what that man said the other night” you remained silent, waiting for him to continue,
“He was right. I’m an old man, and I’m way too old for you. I see the way people stare at us in public, the judgmental looks and shit. They practically tell me that I don’t deserve ya. You deserve a younger man who has energy and active bones. Who can fuck you more than once in one night”
You wanted to cry hearing him degrading himself like that,
“Joel, I didn’t know you felt that way. How long?” Joel looked up at you,
“Before we even dated, sweetheart. It’s embarrassing, I know” You shook your head and straddled him, planting your hands on his chest,
“It’s not embarrassing. I’m sorry you felt that way for a while. I love you so, so much. If I wanted a younger man I would have already been with one of them by now, but I chose you. I chose you because your strong, you care about the people you love, your extremely handsome and make me feel like the only girl in the world” Joel could feel his neck and face getting red at your words,
“Joel, baby, please tell me when you are feeling upset about these kinds of things. I’ll only know how you feel if you talk to me” You combed your hands gently through his grey hair, looking down at him with so much love in your eyes it almost made him tear up,
“I love you” He reached his hand up to your cheek, rubbing it,
“I love you, too” You whispered. You pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb while staring down at him. He pressed his thumb in between your lips, slowly pushing it in your mouth. You accepted it, and sucked on it slowly. He groaned and closed his eyes,
“Sweetheart, I really wanna make love to ya right now but my back is just so fucking sore” You slowly pulled his thumb out of your mouth,
“Don’t worry about that. Just lay back and let me take care of you, Joel. My Joel” Joel moaned at that, his big hands going to grasp at your hips, slowly pulling your nightgown up.
This was going to be a long night.
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#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x wife!reader#pre-outbreak dbf!joel#joel miller x you#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader smut#joel miller age gap#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel miller x y/n#joel miller#joel x reader#joel miller smut#tlou fanfiction#tlou#tlou x reader#tlou part 2#tlou hbo#pedro pascal#bfd!joel#dbf!joel miller x reader#pedro pascal x singer!reader
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Big Juicy
posting twice today because this thought wouldn't leave my brain literally ghost face makes me feral like them or any masked slasher killer ahhhh ^_^ ♡
Summary: Bimbo reader has a special uninvited guest visit her tonight, she doesn't even hesitate I mean who wouldn't fuck a masked killer ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Warnings: PURE FILTH, mask kink, spit kink, pussy slapping, degrading, size kink kinda, oral M n F receiving, he slaps u, he spanks you too, unprotected sex (don't do that), choking, biting, a little blood, mentions of killing, breeding if u squint, that's it enjoy <3.
It was currently eight at night and you had been in your dorm all day noting going on in your pretty little mind. You were laying on your tummy legs up kicking as you scrolled through your phone humming along the music playing. You had been blasting Ayesha Erotica this whole time that you hadn't notice your door opening with how loud the music was playing.
He saw you laying there, you were wearing the cutest skimpiest outfit he couldn't help but rub his groin. You body was facing your wall so he had a good view up your denim mini skirt, he could see your baby pink lace panties that barely covered your lower lips and he fucking loved the white thigh highs that covered your legs.
Ethan came here to kill you but he just couldn't help himself. He was now behind you, knife on his right hand as he lifted the knife ready to stab you on your back but before he could impale it he saw your pretty face now facing him. Pretty lips glossy with your gloss, doe eyes had slightly big falsies with pink glitter surrounding your eyes. You looked so cute.
"holy fuck am I about to get fucked by a masked killer" you exclaimed looking at the masked figure now sitting up on your bed dropping to your knees grabbing your phone clicking the camera app. You had a mirror facing your bed and you had the bestest idea, you position yourself left hand wrapping around the figures leg both thighs straddling his foot, you pointed your phone to the mirror making sure to get you both puckering your lips and taking a picture.
"OMG! we look so cute look look" you squealed looking up to the mask figure so he could see the picture you just took. Ethan was dumb founded he didn't know how to react tilting his head down to look at you, you were smiling at him arms still wrapped around his leg as you rested your head on his thigh phone not set down to the side.. God this girl was so stupid he had to take advantage of this.
"wait do you want to use my mouth?" you asked him almost vibrating waiting for him to answer in some sort of way. You felt yourself drip when you saw him nod his head pushing yourself off of him so you can push him on the bed. He sat there still looking at you waiting for you to make a move. and you did you went to move the thick black material off so you could have access to his black pants.
You began to unbutton the pants he wore gasping when his cock just sprung out, he wasn't wearing any undergarments it soaked you up even more. "You came prepared huh" giggling at him. He finally felt you wrap your hand around his cock placing your mouth right above his tip so you could spit on it. You used your spit to lube him up jerking him off, you moved your hand up and down and up and down slowly. "come on say something pretty please, wanna hear you" you whined at him, you loved when men were vocal and he wasn't doing that all so you hated him.
He didn't budge one bit when you begged so you did what had to be done. You took him down your throat nose pressed u against his neatly trimmed pubes, you swallowed around the head of the cock keeping it there for a little making sure to look up at his masked face. You pulled back a string of drool connecting your bottom lip to his pink tip. "wanna see you" you begged even more but he didn't listen to you instead his gloved hand went to push at your head signaling you to take him back in your throat.
You bobbed your head making sure to use your hands to jerk off the excess that didn't fit in you tiny mouth. "so big" you'd moan when you pull away from him, you had tears running down your tinted cheeks and you want nothing more than to have him touch you. As if he could read your mind he moved your head so you could pull of his cock, hand on your chin making you look at him lips pouted red and shiny, he could hear the soft fast breaths coming from you. You saw his other hand go for his mask, finally you thought, you saw him lift his mask over his mouth but it didn't go any further.
You saw his mouth move a little before he positioned his mouth over yours making sure to squish your cheeks so you could open your mouth for him. You almost came in your panties untouched as he spat in your mouth making sure you swallowed his spit then doing it again. He lightly slapped your cheek cock twitching at how good you sat there swallowing his spit. He then pushed you back to your original position pulling his mask back down. He didn't even make you wait grabbing his cock which was resting on his lower stomach.
He wanted to see you beg for it so he did a little bit o teasing he lightly tapped the tip of his cock on your tongue making you paw at him causing him to slap you. "come on mr ghost face don't tease me please" you whined at him opening your mouth again and he did not hesitate he stuffed himself down your throat make sure you couldn't move. This action made your eyes water, looking up at him batting your eyelashes trying to make the tears to go away.
You felt him finally let go easing himself out your throat letting you breath just for a second before you felt him do it again but this time you felt him thrust himself fucking himself into your throat. You could hear small soft grunts come from him and he bucked his hips up into your mouth and you just couldn't help but reach your tiny manicured hand down your body slithering into your panties rubbing your little button fast whimpering. Then you heard him, he let out the deepest and raspiest 'fuck' as he came down your throat making sure you didn't get away. He didn't care if you choke he just NEEDED to have your little throat stuffed with him cum.
''Mmm'' you moaned once he pulled out small amounts of his cum dripping from the corner of your mouth. You felt him move his hand from your head to your chin wiping the drool and cum off. You made sure to swallow what he gave you so you wouldn't disappoint him, you still had your hand in your panties and you felt yourself grind against your hand just wanting some sort of release and Ethan noticed that.
He got up from where he sat surprising you when he picked you up and laid you on the edge of the bed. You were placed on your tummy making sure to place a small pillow under your belly, sock covered legs hanging off the edge. He made sure to signal you to arch tour back towards him you obeyed like always cause you just loved pleasing men, I mean as long as they did the same duh. You felt him rub and kneed your inner thighs moaning and whining literally begging him to just do something you just needed him so bad.
He finally gave in pulling your mini skirt down your legs but your panties stayed on. Ethan made sure to tease your cunt through the thin baby pink material, pinching your clit through it then rubbing soft but rough circles. He would pull at the material almost giving you a wedgie but that gave you enough friction on your clit that had you whining.
"Please just touch me please" you felt your hole clench around nothing but air as his gloved hand slapped your ass hard you cried out. When he finally had enough of that he pulled your panties down your legs stuffing them in his pocket for safe keeping. You heard him shuffle behind you and you wondered what he was doing so you went to turn your head but before you could see he pushed your head into the mattress "stay there" he used his voice once again making your legs almost close but his thighs stopped you from doing so.
Ethan had lift his mask off slightly just enough for his mouth and nose be free. He lowered himself to his knees taking the position you were in a couple minutes ago. You gasped loudly into the pillow as you felt his tongue lick a strip down your slit to your clit. Both of his hands went to grab your ass just to kneed them and spread them apart so he can have all of you. You felt his tongue make circles around your nub making sure to suck on It a little before letting go. Ethan had never done this but he's so glad he watched videos of this. He always wanted to eat someone out and now he finally had the chance.
He made sure to spread your lips apart backing up a little and spitting on your cunt watching his drool drop and slip into your hole which was clenching like crazy, poor thing he thought. He heard the most nastiest moan come from your pretty little mouth thank fuck he stuffed your face into that mattress you're so loud. He made sure to lick at your hole loving the feeling of your walls clenching around his tongue moaning into your cunt so you could feel the vibrations on your cunt. You felt one of his cold hand makes its way to your clit rubbing at it and you lost it thighs shaking as he kept the pace of his tongue on your hole. You felt him pull back again both his fingers and mouth left you, you were confused on why but that confusion leave you once you felt his hand slap your mound.
"that hurts so good mister" you moaned as you felt him slap your cunt more and more the more you moaned and whined. You didn't want him to stop touching you, you wanted to be his forever ♥.
Once Ethan stopped his rough treatment you finally felt what you were waiting for, his cock. You felt him rub his cock on your pussy lips making sure to coat it with your wetness. You were such a messy whore and Ethan loved it, he wanted to keep you for ever. You felt his cock head nudge at your clit making you jump at the feeling you felt yourself so close to coming. Ethan had enough of his own teasing and finally he stopped himself into your tiny cunt. You let out a pornographic moan as you felt that tight knot in your tummy snap conning around his thick cock.
"fuck me" you said softly but he heard you and the feeling of you coming around him made him feral. You felt so warm and tight he just couldn't help but fall on top of your small tiny body and fuck up into you make sure to kiss your neck leaving bright red marks as he sucked and licked your skin. You loved the feeling of his heavy big body on top of you taking advantage of you it made you gush even more. Ethan could feel the ring of cum you left at the base of his cock slow began to soap up. This was so gross he could feel your cunt clench trying to keep him in there as he fucked you making sure to hit so deep inside you, literally hitting your cervix at how deep he was.
He just couldn't help it, his gloved hand had made its way up your throat squeezing the sides of your throat making sure to pull you closer to him arching your back even more fucking yourself back into his cock matching his pace.
"You're so dirty" Ethan spoke through his mask. "you know I was gonna kill you right, but no instead I'm having my way with you" his words should make you scared but instead made you moan not wanting him to stop. He felt you get tight again, he knew you were close so he dragged his non gloved hand down your tummy to your nub making sure to rub that little button just enough to have your thighs shake. Hips still fucking into you so rough and fast because he just couldn't get enough of this tight warm soaping pussy he just wanted more.
"Gonna cum please, please cum in me pretty please" you whimpered out just wanting to feel him let go inside of you, wanting to feel his warm milk stuff you full and drip out of you. You felt his pace become a little sloppy at your words but he kept the thrust rough. He just couldn't help at the thought of stuffing you full and claiming you like that he just HAD to do it.
"Gonna stuff you full princess, you're mine" he groaned biting down on the space between your neck and collarbone making you whine and you feel blood drip into his mouth and that made you moan. He continued to groan and moan into your ear gloved hand leaving you throat to grip your hip pistoling into your cunt other hand still on your clit. Then he felt it, he felt you come undone all over his cock with a loud cry and he followed behind making sure to stuff himself fully inside you before cumming.
You felt him thrust into you a couple more time make sure to milk everything from him before pulling out turning you to your back. You could feel everything gush out your cunt and he just couldn't help. He found your phone on the floor making sure to swipe right to open the camera. He made sure to press your legs together with one hand pushing them back against your chest getting a good view of your dripping pussy and adorable fucked out face and taking a picture. You heard the click of the sound of the camera surprising you but not really caring.
"Wait so who are you?" you questioned at this point Ethan was also pussy drunk so he didn't give two fucks. He pulled the hood off his head and proceeded to pull his mask off smirking at your surprised face.
"ETHAN" you exclaimed, mind still hazy but you knew Ethan, he was your best friend. Your best friend just fucked you so good it had you drooling, he literally stuffed himself in you and came inside of you. "What's up bunny, I had fun but now I gotta go" he laughed as you still had a shocked and confused face but said nothing. You just let him tuck himself back into his pants making sure to leave a small kiss on you lips before placing his mask back onto his head walking out the room.
You still sat there as you got a message from your phone, it was Ethan.
E♡: Making this my home screen angel, you look so cute ;) E♡: 1 Image Sent
You gasped as you saw yourself, it was the picture he had taken after he came inside of you. NGL you did look cute you hummed.
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The Fall from the Heavens (38)
[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: angst, attempted rape, murder, descriptions of wounds and their effects, descriptions of the fight ]
[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard
Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
She felt that something hung in the air, that it was all too simple, that Larys Strong would never allow himself to be caught with such ease. She knew this, but no arguments could stop her uncle or her brother, and she was left alone, locked in their chamber in Harrenhal, waiting in fear and tension for their arrival with the hope that they would both return alive.
By her husband's orders, no one was to cross the threshold of their quarters, so she had to remove her gown herself before going to bed. She sighed heavily when she finally managed to free herself from under the layers of her attire and remain in just her nightgown, stroking her belly as if trying to soothe both herself and the child in her womb.
They will come back, she thought in the back of her head.
They will both come back.
She lay back under the thick furs, checking once more with her hand that the dagger her mother had given her as a child was still between the bedframe and the sheets. She let out a quiet breath when she felt the cold steel beneath her fingers and curled up, looking towards the window.
She knew she wouldn't get a wink of sleep that night.
After a few hours she shuddered, snapped out of her half-slumber when she heard a rustling outside her chamber door, and then a click, as if someone had turned a key in the lock. For a moment she thought with joy that it was her husband, but then decided that he would not have crept in, and her hand involuntarily reached for the hilt of her dagger and slid it out, hiding it under the duvet.
She squealed loudly, bouncing in place as the door suddenly opened with a slam and two muscular men, smelling of sweat and alcohol, stepped inside.
"– let's go, little one – don't make me use force –" One of them said as she shook her head quickly, feeling the hard pounding of her heart, her hands clenched into fists.
The man laughed as he saw her pale, terrified face.
"– what a pretty thing you are – maybe we could make use of this body first? – what do you think? –" He chuckled mockingly to his companion, who grinned, from a distance she could see that he was missing a few teeth.
At their words she felt tears under her eyelids, she moved as far away from him as possible, but he grabbed her arm, wanting to lie on top of her, gripping the material of her nightgown.
"NO!" She shouted in rage, the blade of her dagger again, again and again thrust deep into his abdomen, making his voice stuck in his throat, the man behind him shouted in rage, running up to her.
"YOU LITTLE WHORE!" He screamed, pulling her away from his companion, who coughed loudly and slid to the floor, clutching at the spot where his warm blood was dripping, his eyes bulging in shock.
"– LET ME GO! – LET ME GO! –" She screamed and squealed, trying to push him away and stab him blindly with the blade, but he snatched it from her hand, dropping it to the floor with a powerful jerk, crushing her with his own body.
He punched her in the face with his fist, making her feel like she had gone deaf for a moment and lost her sight, his strong, rough hands caught her in half and threw her over his shoulder. They walked out of her chamber into the corridor, as if through a fog she could see the bodies of the guards covered in blood, their wide eyes empty and lifeless.
She didn't have the strength to scream or cry, breathing hard, feeling her swollen cheek pulsing with pain.
And then she noticed some kind of shadow moving behind them – the man noticed it too, because he turned, and after a moment he fell to the floor with her, crushing her with his body. She heard someone's groan of exertion – she took a loud breath as someone slid the man off her, a hand smelling of lavender and clove touching her cheek.
"– Princess – get up, we have to go, quickly –" She whispered, trying to lift her up. She threw her arm around her neck, leading her down the corridor.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the body of the man who had tried to abduct her lying on the stone floor, an axe stuck in his head.
Alys took her to some room that smelled of herbs. She laid her down on something soft, and then she heard a rustling and her gasp of effort, as if she was moving something heavy. She breathed loudly, slowly regaining consciousness, and raised herself up on her arm, seeing that she had pawed the doorway with a large dresser and a table.
"– rest –" Alys said, panting heavily, kneeling beside her, her wide-open green eyes shining in the moonlight. "– you are safe now –"
"– what will happen to my husband and brother? –" She mumbled out with difficulty, feeling her whole body begin to shiver with cold and terror. Alys shook her head.
"– I don't know –"
Several hours passed before they heard the powerful flapping of wings, two dragons began circling around the fortress in the darkness.
They were back.
They came out to meet them, both only in their nightgowns and overlaid robes, running down the stone steps. She stopped and screamed involuntarily, sobbing and wailing at the same time, covering her mouth with her hands, as she watched her brother and the man she was seeing for the first time in her life carry her unconscious husband through the fortress gates.
"– he was stabbed with a dagger in the back –" Jace cried out, all red and sweaty.
"– follow me, immediately –" Alys called out, pointing her finger at them to which chamber they should head to.
She ran after them, watching as Jace and the stranger laid her uncle's body on Alys' bed, her aunt beginning to take out various objects from the drawers one by one, panting heavily.
"– take off his cloak and tunic and turn him onto his stomach –" She commanded, and they obediently obeyed her order. She stood a few paces behind them, looking at his pale face, at his parted lips, and only after a moment did she see that a trickle of blood was trailing down his left foot.
Her whole body was trembling, she was unable to get a word out or move from her place.
When her husband was left in only his breeches and shirt, Alys cut the material with scissors. A terrified, helpless, loud moan ripped from her throat as she exposed the wound from which his blood was dripping and she wept loudly, burying her face in her hands, thinking that if he died, she would throw herself from the highest tower of Harrenhal.
"– hold him –" She ordered the men. Jace climbed onto the bed, sitting down on the side of his head, pressing his torso against the bedclothes with his hands while the other man grabbed his legs.
As her aunt leaned over and poured the contents of one of the vials onto his wound, her husband suddenly opened his eye and screamed as if someone was skinning him.
She felt her body suddenly rush up, running towards him – she fell to her knees beside him, grabbing his hand, stroking his hot, sweaty cheek.
"– shhh, my love – shhh – I know, I know it hurts –" She whispered soothingly. He whined low, his fingers tightening on hers.
"– I want to see our child –" He mumbled out in pain. She wept at his words and rose up on her knees, hugging his head to her breasts, stroking his hair. He screamed out loud as Alys repeated the action, spreading his wound with her fingers.
"– why are you doing this?! –" She cried out, hearing how much pain she was causing him, how much he was suffering.
"– I need to clean the wound and make sure there is no internal bleeding –" She replied coldly, looking at the man standing at his feet.
"– Erwin, there are needles and threads in the second drawer from the bottom – give it to me and a lit candle for me –" She ordered, and the man nodded, walking over to her large chest of drawers, snooping through her things, finding after a moment what she was speaking of.
Her husband was convulsing in her arms when they all watched in silence as Alys took out the needle, washing it with the same alcohol-scented liquid, and then slipped the tip of it into the fire. This went on for a while, and as she took it out, she put a thread through its eyelet and leaned over his wound, looking at her brother.
"– hold him –" She said, and then jabbed the needle into his skin, beginning to suture the wound.
Her uncle hissed and whined, squeezing her hand as hard as if he wanted to break her fingers. She looked at her in despair, not knowing how to relieve him, how to help him.
"– gods, please, at least give him poppy milk –" She mumbled out pleadingly, tears of pain and fear running down her cheeks red with emotion. Alys shook her head, heedless of his sobs.
"– no – he's lost too much blood – he won't wake up –" She said in an unobjectionable voice.
She put her arms around his head, cradling him to her chest, hushing him and stroking his hair as if he were a small child, a little boy.
"– shhh – shhh –"
"– Rhaenys – not yet – not yet –" He babbled, terrified, his trembling hand clamped on her wrist.
She felt her throat clench at the thought of him trying to tell her that he didn't want to die.
"– I'm with you – you're not going to die – you're not going to die –" She whispered softly, kissing his hot forehead again and again. She felt his breath begin to calm, and his grip eased: frightened, she touched her fingers to his neck and was relieved to feel a pulse.
Alys finished her work in silence, then reached for a small vessel standing on the table and opened its lid. She scooped a grey ointment onto her fingers, which she began to apply gently to the fresh wound.
"– the wound must not be covered with any material – he must lie on his stomach all night so that the stitches do not rip – if he survives until morning, there will be hope for him – he has lost a lot of blood –" She said, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. She only wept at her words, placing her cheek on his head, stroking his jaw with her palm.
Neither of them slept for a moment that night.
However, morning came, and her husband, although burning up with fever, was still breathing.
"What's happening?" She asked, touching his hot forehead, placing on it a linen cloth previously soaked in the icy water Alys had given her.
"– it's a sign that his body is fighting – that he's not giving up –" She said calmly, and she nodded, trying to comfort herself with that thought.
When Jace asked them to speak in private she did so reluctantly, leaving her husband in the care of their aunt. They went out into the corridor and looked at each other for a moment in silence.
"– it was an ambush on me, not on him – his spies must have reported to Lord Strong that I had come to Harrenhal – the information that was given to our uncle was just bait – when they attacked me, he tried to protect me –" He muttered and she nodded, stroking her slightly rounded abdomen.
"– your cheek – what happened? –" He asked, but she shook her head.
"– I don't have the strength to discuss it, Jace –" She whispered, tired and powerless. Her brother nodded.
"– we need to inform our mother about what happened –" He replied.
"– yes – and not only her –"
While Alys replaced the cold cloths she had placed on her husband's back and forehead, she sat at her desk and wrote two letters: one to her mother in Dragonstone, the other to her uncle in King's Landing.
She ordered them to be sent immediately knowing what the consequences would be.
During the day, her husband's condition neither worsened nor improved – he was still asleep and Alys' chamber was cramped, so they decided to move him to his chamber, being careful not to hurt him. As they laid him on his bed, Alys placed the ointment she had used earlier on the table next to him.
"– apply a little of this ointment every five hours, Princess – the wound is swollen but no infection is developing – that's the most important thing – I think the worst is behind us – I will inform the servants to prepare hot soup for him and I will personally supervise how it is prepared –" She said, watching her calmly, without an expression of fatigue or discouragement.
She looked at her and nodded.
"– I am grateful to you, Alys – for everything you have done for me and my husband – when this is all over, decide for yourself where you wish to go – you are a free woman now –"
The woman smiled at her in a way that seemed sincere and filled with an emotion she didn't understand. She nodded and left without another word, leaving them alone.
Her uncle, when she tried to feed him, was semi-conscious. Because of the way he was lying on his stomach, she had to lift his head higher so he wouldn't choke. Her brother helped her attend to him without saying a word, holding his chin as she poured the contents of the bowl down his throat spoon by spoon.
Several times he muttered something in displeasure and furrowed his brow, however, he did not open his eyes, restless, sweat droplets on his forehead.
She only fell asleep in the evening, tired and weak, waking up once in a while, however, checking that he was still breathing. She shuddered when she felt him move, his breath became heavy, as if he was frightened of something. She lifted herself up on her arm to see that his eyelid was open, his lips parted, as if he didn't recognise her.
"– Rhaenys –"
She touched his cheek, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, her stomach clenched in emotion, hearing his voice again, his skin hot from the heat.
"– I am here, my beloved –" She whispered, looking up at him tenderly, begging in her mind just for him to survive, for the Stranger not to take him away so early.
She heard him sigh quietly with some kind of relief, looking at her with a misty gaze.
"– I knew you would come –" He said quietly.
She didn't understand what he meant, but decided it didn't matter, her lips placed a warm, moist kiss on his forehead.
"– do you still want to marry me? –" He asked with difficulty, and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling her heart stop in her throat.
I knew you would come.
It seemed to him that they were still children.
That she had come to him that night when he lost his eye.
Her fingers ran gently over his jaw, hot, burning tears of emotion and pain running down her cheeks one by one.
"– uncle – we are married – I'm expecting your child –" She whispered, gently grasping his wrist, allowing his hand to touch her rounded lower abdomen. She felt him freeze, his lips parted, relief and warmth in his eyes from which she felt a tightening in her throat, stifling the sob that wanted to escape her lips.
"– I have married you –"
She laughed under her breath, wiping her tear-wet face, stroking his hand with hers.
"– yes, my love – I am your wife and you are my husband –" She whispered softly, leaning over him, placing a tender, sticky kiss on his lips, from which he sighed quietly in contentment.
"– you promised me that you would take me to Essos – you can't leave me now –" She mumbled, feeling that despite her efforts, tears flowed down her face in waves again, her breath heavy and hitched as she pressed her forehead against his, stroking his cheek.
"– never, my sweetest – never –" He whispered and closed his eyes. Horrified, she shook him, feeling her heart stop in her throat.
"– Aemond? –" She mumbled and pressed her fingers to his neck.
She cried out loud, feeling his pulse, and lay down beside him, snuggling into his body, praying aloud to all the gods, old and new, to show them mercy, to reward her husband for what he had done for her brother and to allow him to see the birth of his child.
The gods heard her prayers, and when Alys woke her the next morning, wanting to check how his wound was healing, he was still breathing.
Then Daemon arrived in Harrenhal.
The sight of Caraxes over the fortress filled her with fear and joy at the same time. She ran to meet him along with her brother, and although she knew that affectionate embraces were not in his nature, as soon as he slid off the back of his dragon, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms.
"Father!" She cried out, snuggling into him, and he did not reject her, embracing her tightly, pressing her to his heart.
Their stepfather received the information they conveyed to him with an air of disbelief, as if he thought they were hiding something from him; the uncertainty vanished from his face when he was led to the chamber where her husband rested.
"Will he survive?" He asked indifferently, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She nodded, pale.
"With god's blessing, yes. Alys says the worst is behind him, but he still has a fever. Last night he woke up and spoke to me for a while, but then he lost consciousness again." She explained and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, walking around the room.
"I told your mother to let me handle the Strong and Hightower case, but she didn't consent. Does anyone in King's Landing know what happened here?"
"Aegon." She admitted immediately, looking at him, not lowering her gaze even as he turned to her in anger.
"You are a fool. He'll protect his grandfather. He'll hide him like a rat."
"No. Not after what happened." She said with a confidence that surprised him. He laughed and shook his head.
"Your naivety is dangerous, you are aware of that?" He asked, finally making himself comfortable in the chair and sighed heavily, tapping his fingers on the armrests.
"My men will find Larys Strong, and I will feed him to Caraxes in front of his own people. This, however, is not a problem. As long as Otto Hightower lives, don't hope for peace. And that green whore will never give him up to us, even if he unwittingly almost killed her son."
It turned out, however, that Daemon had been mistaken in his assessment of the situation, and the retinue with the carriage with the Queen inside arrived in Harrenhal after a few days. It frightened her that Harrenhal was slowly becoming a small Red Keep and that this woman would stand before her father.
Alicent, however, did not seem to be bothered by the sight of him, and instead walked up to her, panting heavily, grabbing her by her shoulders.
Only after a moment did she realise she was wearing black.
She wore mourning.
"– where is my son? –"
To Daemon's displeasure, she led her husband's mother to his chamber. When she saw him, she cried aloud, covering her mouth with her hand, and walked over to him, sitting down beside him on the bed. She stroked his white hair as if he were still a child.
"– my little boy –" She whispered in a breaking voice.
She decided to give them a moment of solitude.
While her husband was left in Alys' care, she, Jace, Daemon and Alicent sat down at the table together for the first time since the King's death.
They were all waiting to hear what she had to say.
The Queen sat in silence for a long time, staring dully ahead, not tasting the wine or the food, picking at the cuticles around her fingernails.
"My father is dead. My son-king sentenced him to death after he received a message from Harrenhal. He wanted to fly here in person, but I wouldn't let him." She confessed. Daemon snorted at her words, raising his eyebrow as if her words amused him.
"Your son-cunt is no king, and your father's head should have long since welcomed visitors to King's Landing impaled on a spike." He sneered.
"– father –" She said to him pleadingly, involuntarily stroking her abdomen again, weak and drowsy, having not experienced a peaceful sleep for several days. Alicent looked at her, pale and tired.
"– is this his child? –" She asked, and her father snorted at her words, raising his gaze to the ceiling.
"– for goodness' sake –"
"– yes –" She replied calmly, looking her straight in the eyes.
The Queen smiled sadly and nodded, as if this information actually pleased her.
"I'm glad." She whispered.
"– how touching – did you know that there was an attempt to poison my daughter? – that there was an attempt to kill my son and abduct her? – it's a miracle she hasn't lost that child yet –" Her father hissed out with a fury from which everyone fell silent, all around them only the sizzle of the fire in the fireplace behind him.
Alicent pressed her lips together, swallowing hard, looking down at her empty plate.
"– I tried to reason with him, but I couldn't – he thought, as he has all my life, that I was weak and naive in believing that a war could be avoided – he made me his pawn from the moment he put me under the nose of your brother, and my husband, like a mare for sale –" She replied indifferently, as if she was already tired of pretense and courtesy.
Daemon tapped his index finger on the armrest and licked his lower lip, watching her vigilantly.
"– King's Landing is not burning just for the sake of my daughter and what your son has done – remember this well –" He said lowly and rose from his seat, taking his cup and jug of wine, then left, leaving them in complete silence.
If anything good had come out of what had happened, it was that she and Jace were closer than they had ever been. Her brother watched over her and made sure she ate and drank, convincing her that since his mother was at her husband's side, she could finally rest a little.
"– you need to think of yourself and the baby too – call me if you need anything –" He said softly, looking at her lying on the bed, sitting beside her on the sheets. She put her hand on his and stroked it with her thumb.
"– I love you, brother –" She whispered.
Jace smiled at her words in a way from which she felt moved and leaned in, placing a warm, tender kiss on her forehead.
"– sleep –" He murmured and got up, leaving her alone in her chamber.
She had slept for several hours without waking for the first time in days, and when she opened her eyes, she wasn't sure if it was morning or evening. Only when she rubbed her eyes did she realise that the sun had only just risen above the horizon and she had slept through the night. She shuddered when she heard a quiet knock on the door to her chamber.
"– come in –" She said loudly. The door opened and Alicent stood in it, a small smile on her lips from which she felt warmth in her heart.
"– he's awake –"
Although only in her nightgown and a robe thrown over her shoulders, she ran to his chamber driven by euphoria. When she saw that he was lying on his back, that his eye was open, that he smiled softly at the sight of her, she cried out loudly and rushed towards him, climbing onto his bed, cuddling into his chest.
He hissed quietly, as if she had caused him pain, and she moved away immediately, looking at him apologetically.
"– forgive me – I –"
"– no – come here –" He muttered in a hoarse voice, putting his arm around her, pushing her back to him. She laid her head on his chest, this time being careful not to make any sudden movements. She sighed in relief as she felt his lips place a lingering, loud kiss on the top of her head.
Alicent followed her into the chamber, smiling as she watched them from the side, as if something about the sight brought her relief.
Her husband lifted her chin and furrowed his brow, seeing the remnants of a purple-pink bruise under her eye.
"– are you well? – did they hurt you? –" He asked, but she shook her head quickly.
"– no – but – I killed one of them –" She mumbled, lowering her gaze.
Over the past few nights, she had dreamt of the figures of this two men again and again, causing her to wake up terrified and drenched in sweat.
Her uncle sighed heavily, stroking her cheek with his thumb, looking at her face, his sapphire eye shining in the sunlight.
"– how? –" He asked coldly.
"– as you taught me – I stabbed him in the stomach with a dagger –" She muttered and heard him smile.
"– my Visenya –" He whispered and kissed her forehead with a quiet click.
She involuntarily felt herself blush at his words and snuggled her face into his neck, enjoying his proximity and scent.
"– I will order a meal to be prepared for you –" His mother said and left their chamber, leaving them alone. She felt his uncle's hand slide down to her lower abdomen, stroking her skin.
"– how do you feel? –" He asked quietly, as if she had been stabbed in the back with a dagger rather than him.
"– I feel well, uncle – now that I am in your arms, all is well –"
#aemond targaryen#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#hotd aemond#aemond x wife#aemond x niece#aemond x female#aemond x female character#aemond one eye#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond angst#aemond the kinslayer#hotd angst#hotd smut#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewan mitchell fanfiction#ewan mitchell fic#aemond x original female character#aemond x original character
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“You’ll never be alone again.” + Yandere!Shigaraki please (straight up destroy my sanity)
“𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏…”
yandere!Shigaraki x reader (MDNI, kidnapping, Shigaraki being a creep)
2K FOLLOWERS EVENT
Everything was blurry as you struggled to open your eyes. Your head felt heavy, making you wince and hiss as your whole body shivered. The room was not entirely warm, goosebumps forming all over your skin. Every inch of your body hurt, your head was pounding. Where am I?, you thought, have I died?
Memories had faded away for a second, you stayed there in silence, trying to move your body forward, deciding to answer the questions in your mind later. Though, you could not move. It didn’t take long for you to realize that your arms were tied behind your back, your body pressed against a cold metal pipe as chains were holding you, wrapped around your waist. You could feel them wrapped so tightly, pressed against your skin. Dread settled deep in your gut as you realised that you were completely tied up, and something heavy rested on your face, blocking your view. Breath hitched on your throat and panic set in, the heavy object in your face not falling down no matter how much you shook your head from left to right.
Your frightened whines and squeals were interrupted by the squeak of a wooden door opening, followed by slow footsteps. You froze, the object in your face not allowing you to see at all , simply increasing the fear inside of you.
“Well, well..” a deep raspy voice echoed through the empty room, footsteps getting closer. “Seems like you’re awake little one..”
You could recognise that voice, the one that had been haunting you for all these months, to the point it appeared in your nightmares. You remembered the famous silver haired villain that you barely escaped from when your campus was under a villain attack. That’s when Tomura Shigaraki noticed you for the first time, struggling to escape, and his breath hitched. You captivated him entirely, it was like he found a new purpose in life when he saw you. He took in your sight, your pretty face that had his cold dead heart suddenly beating. He knew he’d make you his the moment he laid eyes on you.
Just like he’d learned from his Master, destroy everything that you hate, that pisses you off.
And get whatever else you want. It’s all yours.
“W-Where am I?” you said, voice shaking in fear as you felt his presence near you now. Shigaraki reached to remove whatever had covered your face and blocking your sight. Your eyes widened when you noticed what it was: a hand. It was familiar, one of the hands that the villain was easily recognisable and known for, the ones that he kept all over his body and his own face too. And now it was on yours. You felt nauseous, tears falling down your cheeks as you grimaced in disgust.
“Home” he replied, followed by a mischievous grin as he put the heavy hand on his own face. “This is Father by the way, I don’t just give him to anyone..”
You didn’t know what he meant by ‘Father’, nor did you want to know. Maybe for your own sanity it was better to not know too much. Those bloody red eyes of his flared in excitement, something ominous lingering on them too, making you feel small. Your body was naked and exposed in front of him, making you feel weak and defenseless in front of the nightmarish villain. Lowering your gaze over your naked body you noticed another pair of his hands pressed on both of your tits, holding them as if they were a pair of bras that fit you perfectly well. Your eyes widened in terror, you started squirming and hyperventilating, knowing too well where this all could lead to.
“P-please don’t hurt me! Please let me go, I s-swear I haven’t done anything wro-"
“I know you haven’t” he interrupted you, his hand reaching to wipe off your tears. “That’s not what you’re here for.. and don’t worry, you won’t turn to dust unless all my five bare fingers touch you”
Tomura noticed the way you flinched, remembering his terrifying quirk.
“And it’d be a real shame to turn a pretty thing like you into dust anyway” he chuckled. Your vulnerability in this moment made it hard for him to not pounce at you right there and then. The way your glossy eyes full of fear and anxiety stared back at him, the way your naked body and delicate flesh decorated with nothing but sweat, dirt and your natural body odor that made him hungrier. And those perfectly shaped tits that fit so well with the palms he’d put on them, the sight made his pants tighten.
“What do you want from me?” you whispered, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the way he was gazing on your figure.
“What do I want from you?” he repeated the question. “Let’s just say.. everything”
He got closer, placing his cold hands on your knees while you whimpered, then going up and caressing both of your bare thighs.
“I want this.. all of this” he growled, his fingers digging at the plush of your thighs and then reaching for your hips and belly. Your mouth fell open but the scream was caught in your throat, the way he was touching your body with those filthy hands of his made you feel beyond defiled.
“A weak little thing like you, living your boring little life, unaware of the dangers out there. Thinking you’re so safe because the righteous heroes are always there to save you. But where are they now?”
Your lip trembled, more tears flowed as you looked at those crimson eyes that pierced right through your soul. His hand gripped your chin harshly when you weren’t answering.
“Where. Are. They. Now?” he repeated the question slowly, sternly. You squeezed your eyes shut.
“N-Nowhere” you whispered, your forehead already covered in sweat.
“Exactly” Tomura grinned. “Nowhere. At the end of the day, you are always alone, aren’t you? Oh, I have watched you yes, my eyes haven’t left you for once as you continued on with your silly daily tasks. The way you were at risk of getting hurt many times because you just love to walk at night with those short sundresses don’t you? Walking around campus without a care in the world. Not noticing the way those filthy men stare at you, following after you. Not knowing the things they could’ve done to you”
He was now mere inches away from your face, his warm breath hitting you. His mind went back to when he asked for Skeptic’s help to install secret cameras all over your house, your way to work, your way to school, your favorite places to eat, and he’d watch every single move of yours through the computer’s monitors if he wasn’t able to be near you.
“But I did. I noticed all of them filthy bastards who stared too long at what’s mine, and I made sure each of them didn’t live to see the other day. All dust”
At what’s mine.
He grabbed a small wooden object nearby with five of his fingers, immediately disintegrating it to emphasise what he was saying. You listened to him, eyes wide in shock at the realisation that he has killed so many people. That your missing male classmates who never showed up the other day, they were in fact dead, all dust, nothing was left of them.
Tomura grabbed one of the hands that was placed on your tits, bringing it closer between your legs.
“N-No please” you gasped, feeling the coldness of that dead hand reaching towards your folds.
“Don’t you worry sweet thing, now I’m here” he said softly, placing open mouthed kisses on your neck and biting ever so slightly, the hand between your legs pressing against your bare cunt. Some of its fingers teasing your entrance.
“You’ll never be alone again. You’re mine forever”
#2k milestone event#fyowhore#shigaraki#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki smut#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#tomura shigiraki x reader#tomura smut#bnha smut#mha smut#yandere x reader#x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia
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PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU DO IT (np if not though lmao)
I GOTCHU.
𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟
Warnings- daddy kink, this is short, I’m horrible at writing smut, brief thumb sucking, oral (f and m)
Usually Jonathan was rough- that’s a fact. But tonight he was more than pissed off.
He came home running a hand through his hair, mumbling under his breath about “the batman” and work, slamming the front door shut.
You peeked out the doorway, you were wearing an oversized shirt with no pants, just panties. You jumped slightly when he slammed the door, and he stopped running a hand through his hair and mumbling when he saw you.
You looked at him with wide eyes. He slowly walked past you into the bedroom, and you followed.
“What happened at work, baby?” You mumbled, getting back into the bed.
“Just- I work with complete idiots, which is crazy because you would think they’re supposed to be somewhat smart but no one can take a fucking hint!” He continued on and on, pacing around the room and taking his suit off.
You listened closely and waited until he was done.
“It’s just so annoying.” He plopped down on the bed next to you, looking at you now.
“Well you’re clearly stressed. What can I do to help?” You asked, the question completely innocent. You didn’t even mean anything by it.
His eyes widened slightly and he stared down at you, the look in his eyes changing. He looked hungry, his eyes full of lust suddenly. The idea was filthy- and that’s exactly why it needed to happen.
“I know a few ways.” He said, putting a hand under your jaw. He put his thumb on your bottom lip.
Your eyes widened now and you opened up your mouth, he smirked as you swirled your tongue around his thumb.
The sight alone had him hard, he watched like a predator stalking his prey. His watchful gaze made you nervous and embarrassed slightly.
He took his thumb out soon after, and he was now sitting at the edge of the bed. You rolled off and onto the floor, already knowing what he wanted. You slithered in front of him, his pants discarded onto the floor now.
Your knees dug into the floor as you pulled down his boxers, watching him stroke his cock a few times then grab the back of your head, making a makeshift ponytail.
He practically shoved you down onto his cock, you gagged around his length for a moment, drooling around it.
You looked up at him, him looking down at you back.
He guided your head up and down his length, and he made sure that you were taking it all. Your nose hitting the hair, you gripped his thighs, nails making them bleed.
His groans and grunts were how you knew he was close. He started to struggle to lead you now, so you took matter into your own hands.
You fondled his balls while you sucked his dick, his eyes were rolling to the back of his head at this point.
It wasn’t long before he came down your throat, the salty taste making you take him out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound, a string of your spit following. You licked your lips and stared at him while you licked it all from his tip.
He groaned again, and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you up.
He pinned you onto the bed, he took your shirt off quickly. You weren’t wearing a bra, you were home why would you?
That made him smile and he then took your underwear off.
“Jesus Christ. You’re soaked.” He mumbled as he did so. “All from getting me off?”
You nodded and he laughed quietly.
You squealed when his hands left your wrists and went onto your thighs, and his tongue was on your clit now.
He collected all your arousal on his tongue, licking and flicking his tongue over your cunt.
He knew he was good with his tongue, and he used that to his advantage. You moaned and your hands went flying to his hair.
He smirked against your pussy, and continued to eat you up like a starved man.
“Jonathan I’m gonna-“
Then his mouth left, making you whine and your hands pulling at his hair.
“Jon!”
“That’s not my name, sweetheart.” He said with a giant ass smirk on his face. You knew what he meant.
“I’m not calling you that.”
“Okay. Then I’m not gonna continue.” He started to get up when you let out a cry.
“No! No! Daddy! Please!” You blurted out, it came out as a plea.
He smiled again, and went back over to you. “good girl.” He kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth.
Then when you both moved away, he was back on your pussy. His tongue on your clit, and your hands back in his hair. The glasses on the desk next to you both.
You were the perfect stress relief for him.
#jonathan crane smut#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane cillian murphy#cillian murphy jonathan crane#cillian murphy#cillian fic#cillian smut
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I saw something on Twitter, about Price.
It's nsfw 🔞 but looks very good 🫠
https://twitter.com/sofftxddies/status/1626443619518259200?t=oX_ciPHgKspPVktwBiyKzg&s=19
I hope it didn't bother you that I sent something like this... 👉🏻👈🏻
AGEGAJBAIA you didn’t bother me at all omg now I have to write a little something based off this thank you for linking that
Smut (18+) mdni, fingering, little bit of praise in there, softdom!Price, squirting
The room was full of wets sounds and strained moans as you tried your hardest to stay quiet. Cigar smoke hung in the air and choked you, making it harder to breathe than it already was as the air was stolen from you from push into your sore cunt.
Your body jerked with every thrust of Price’s long and thick fingers as he pushed the deep inside of you. A whine escaped your throat as he curled his fingers and pushed against that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. It was incredibly sensitive now after having been toyed with for what felt like hours now. You weren’t sure how many times you’ve cummed on just his fingers alone but it was enough to have you writhing against his desk.
“Needy little thing.” Price had a smug smirk around the cigar in his mouth as he kept a steady pace with his fingers and watched your exposed chest heave.
“John…” You breathless as you dug your fingers into his wrist as the pain of overstimulation hit you. “Too much.”
“You can handle it.”
A ragged moan escaped your lips as he began to massage your clit and you clenched down on his fingers. Pleasure raced up your spine and you could feel yourself already getting close again, causing you to try to close your thighs.
Price pressed his hand into your thigh and pushed it down against the desk, opening you up further for him as he drove his fingers into you at a faster pace. He chuckled around his cigar when you squealed and didn’t let up even as you tried to push him away.
“This is what you wanted.” He teased you in the low voice of his and leaned closer to your face. The cigar smoke made you eyes water as you stared up at him with hazy eyes from the pleasure he was giving you. “Be a good girl and take my fingers, eh?”
You couldn’t say anything as you nodded and clenched around him so tight that if it weren’t for the fact that you were dripping slick onto the desk, he wouldn’t have been able to loved his fingers.
“That’s it. That’s my good little slut.” He praised and you moaned loudly.
Price put pressure on your clit as he massaged it and continued to curl his fingers up inside of you at a brutal pace. His eyes never left your face as it contorted with pleasure as the pain of overstimulation gave way to something so heavenly you weren’t sure if you were inside your body anymore.
You could hardly breathe as you felt yourself on the very edge of your climax.
“I’m-I’m gonna-“ You couldn’t even get the words out as you moaned and whined.
“That’s it, love. Cum for me, give me one more.”
Pleasure snapped inside your stomach your body jerked on top of the desk. Your eyes rolled back and your thighs shook as you gushed around his fingers onto the floor. You couldn’t stop the moans that left your mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm until you desperately clawing at him to stop.
Price grinned as he removed his fingers and stared down at the messed you made in his office before he began to undo his belt.
You whined and shook your head, though you opened your legs wider for him. You weren’t sure how much more you could take as he grabbed both of your thighs and pressed the tip of his cock at your throbbing cunt.
“You can give me on more, love.” He slowly slid his coke inside of you, causing both of you to moan. “Wanna make more of a mess.”
A/N: pure filth that I’m not entirely sure I liked but the drawing got me so lol
#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#john price x reader#john price x you#captain price x reader#price x reader#mw2 price#john price mw2#john price
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May i have a platonic one shot between alastor x mother!reader? BUT MAKE IT ANGST
Like dude goes with vaggie and charlie to heaven sees his mom and shes horrified
Or it can be fluff if you want shes like overjoyed and moved to tears about seeing her baby boy again 😭 i apologize if this is weird i just need more of this man and his mom
A/n Hello my dear! No, it's not a weird request at all! I think it was actually quite sweet! Now, I hope you don't mind I did a mix of the two so hurt/comfort. Annnd Alastor might be a little ooc here, but I mean c'mon, he's seeing his mama for the first time in centuries. That'd make anyone soft. Anyhoot! On to the story!
Pairing: (Platonic) Alastor x Mom! reader
TW: None! Unless you count Hurt/comfort as a warning
Word Count: 802
Forever and Always
When Alastor asked to come with her and Vaggie to the meeting in heaven, to say she was uncertain was the understatement of the year. Hell, Vaggie was deadset against it. But Alastor was insistent. But it wasn’t his usual “Simply for entertainment!” excuse. He had this look on his face that was very un-Alastor-like. It was almost thoughtful to the point of seeming…hopeful or wistful.
But as she and Vaggie looked at the scene before them, both with surprised looks on their faces, it made sense. It even made Charlie believe that Alastor wasn't as cruel as he tried to put on.
“Al? I-is that really you, my boy?” You said as you slowly stepped forward. You just barely came out of Heaven’s grocery store when you saw a group of people being led by Sera and Emily. One you recognized as Lucifer’s daughter–the resemblance was uncanny. And another must be her partner, with how she looks at Lucifer’s daughter. But the third person is what caused your heart to skip a beat. Could it really be? After all a mother never forgets her children.
For once Alastor dropped his usual uncanny smile that everyone was used to for a much softer one. Even the usual radio static was nowhere to be found in his voice. “Hello, mother.” He said softly.
“Mother?!” Everyone in the group exclaimed.
“Now it makes sense why he wanted to come up with us Vaggie! Aww.” Charlie said.
Vaggie nodded but the stunned look never left her features. “Yea, I guess so.”
Sera cleared her throat. “Ehem, we’ll take our leave for now, but when you're done, just head straight to the building up ahead and the angel at the front desk will send for us. Come along, Emily.” She said as she gently pushed the now happily squealing seraphin forward.
You gave a nod of acknowledgment to Sera before coming to a stop in front of your son. You looked him over and felt tears prick in your eyes. “Oh Alastor, sweetie. You–you went to hell, didn’t you? And don’t you lie to me boy, I can see it plain as day with those clothes of yours.”
Alastor let out a sigh. He was looking forward to seeing his mother again, but this part? Not so much. “Not a thing could pass you, could it ma? Yes, I did indeed go to hell, but I can tell you I am thriving, why my radio broadcast is a complete hit down there!”
You let out a sigh of your own. You never would have thought that your precious boy would have ended up down there. You had a feeling in your gut that that might have been the case as the years went by and you didn’t see hide or hair of him up in heaven. “What could have you possibly done to end up in a place like that Alastor? I know I raised you better.”
Charlie and Vaggie both cringed at those words, he was definitely getting the old-fashioned parental scolding. But what they saw next, both Charlie and Vaggie wouldn’t have believed it if they didn’t see it for themselves.
Alastor was frowning.
Alastor looked down at the ground but then up at his mother’s face. He had to tell her. Maybe not all of it, but at least what started it all. Besides, who really wants to tell their beloved mother they became a serial killer? Not him. “I killed him, mother. I killed Father so he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again.” He met his mother's eyes practically begging her to understand. “I won’t apologize for it, he deserved it. For what he did to you, to us and he would have done it to multiple people that disgraceful–”
Before Alastor could finish his rant though he was cut off by the warmth of his mother's arms wrapped around him. His eyes widened in surprise. She was hugging him?
“I understand honey. Now I don’t approve of what you did and it saddens me you ended up down there, but no matter what I am your mother and I will always love you. Forever and always.”
Alastor felt his breath catch in his throat at his mother’s words. Forever and Always. That’s what they used to always say to each other back when he was alive. I will love you forever and always. He had to take a deep breath and shove any and all of his emotions back down to where they came from. He was still the Radio Demon for crying out loud! He had an image to keep.
But he did hug his mother back. Because in this moment he wasn���t the Radio Demon. He was just his mother’s son. “Thank you, Mother. I love you forever and always.”
Hope you enjoyed the story! I'm usually not the best at angst, but I feel like I did pretty well on this one! Plus it's always fun making a not-so-soft character actually have a heart hehe.
And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!
#alastor x reader#requests#hazbin hotel x reader#hurt/comfort#hazbin hotel season 1#hazbin hotel spoilers#hazbin alastor#the rebel fae#alastor#commissions open
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Ok so I've never actually put in a fic request before. I don't even have a specific idea! I would just love something were the reader is rescued by Gaz. He's our knight in shining armor, literally or metaphorically! Gaz is my favorite and I bet he'd do a great job helping the reader after whatever scary ordeal they went through <3
OUT OF ELEMENT
Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Female! Reader
Prompt: Gaz didn’t notice the loose Polaroid of the two of you that fell from his vest, focusing instead on not being shot. He didn’t think anything of it, until his whole world came crashing down.
Words: 3.1 K
Warnings: Blood, Graphic Torture, gore, suicidal thoughts, it’s heavy, but Gaz saves us!
He knocked harshly upon the wood of his favorite sergeant’s door, an irritable look on his face. It wasn’t often Kyle was angry at anything, always the level head when it came to his missions and time on the field.
Not the last mission.
It had been a close call, he’d taken a bullet to the thigh, making him stumble despite his Captain telling him to move his arse. He made the team swear not to tell you after he was wrapped and bandaged. Soap had previously let loose about his helicopter mishap, resulting in you not speaking to him for weeks, settling upon giving him an earful when he returned to your shared home.
So here he was, angrily wondering what made Soap think he could flap his jaws after he swore he wouldn’t.
“I know you’re in there, MacTavish!” Gaz called, noticing the faint glow of light shift from under the crack of the door. A loud groan echoed, before the door swung open to reveal a tired looking Scot.
“Why’d you tell the Missus about my leg? I know it was you.”
Soap looked puzzled, already sluggish due to being woken at such a late hour. “Oi piss off, I knew better than to squeal this time.” He grouched.
Unease settled in Gaz’s throat, clogging his esophagus and making the tips of his fingertips numb in loathing shock. Soap didn’t take notice at first, “What? She get cold feet after you proposed or somethin’?”
You hadn’t answered his calls in three days. Which was practically unheard of, especially knowing that you were in fact, oblivious of his previous injuries.
“Don’t know why she’s not answering, mate.” He nervously aired, clenching his fingers into his palms. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and for the fifth time today, he clicked upon your name and watched it dial.
Soap hovered carefully, his own eyes widening when the phone went straight to voicemail.
“Something’s wrong.” Gaz choked out, barely registering the comforting hand placed on his shoulder. “Did ye’ try calling your neighbor? Maybe they can check in?”
Gaz nodded his head frantically, thankful for the advise as he dialed Ms. Annie, a sweet old widow that loved to bring over cookies after Kyle mowed her lawn in the summer months. Soap ushered him into his room, pushing him into the old wood chair near his desk.
The phone dialed once, twice, before slow breathing picked up, “Hello?”
“Annie, hello. It’s Kyle, can I ask a favor?” Kyle attempted to not let his nervousness show.
“Oh course, what is it, honey?” Her sweet voice clipped with a tad of worry.
“I need you to go to my house while staying on the line with me. I haven’t heard anything from my fiancé in a while and I’m worried.”
“Well, hold on let me grab my slippers.” She mused, a small shuffling coming from the line before she hummed in satisfaction. “I’m sure she’s okay, Kyle. I saw her on Tuesday when she brought me lasagna and discussed the book we read.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips at the mention of you, how sweet and caring you were.
“Okay, I’m at your front door.” Annie announced.
“There is a loose brick on the left side of the mailbox, if you lift it there should be the spare key underneath.” Kyle bit his lip, growing even more nervous. Soap nudged his shoulder, signaling him to put the phone on speaker so he could listen. Gaz clicked it without hesitation, thankful for the listening ear.
“Okay, I’m in.” Annie informed, she called for your name. “She’s not home, but her car isn’t here.”
Kyle’s heart dropped to his stomach. You could be out shopping for groceries, or at the local library— yet he couldn’t stop the unease from eating his insides.
“Could you check our bedroom, second door on the left? Just to be sure.” He had blamed his constant paranoia, but he made sure you knew about the safe in the closet, a loaded pistol among the contents.
A loud gasp, “Oh my…”
“What Annie? What is it?” Kyle asked, standing from his chair in a blind panic.
“There’s blood, lots of it, Kyle.” Annie’s frail voice shook in fear. Kyle swore loudly, eyes clouding over that he could barely hear Soap speak.
“Answer this video call, We need to see what’s there.” Soap ordered, kicking chair out of the way to get a better look at the phone. Both men looked down, locking on the video call that shook under Annie’s grip.
His home, a place that had once been such a safe haven, was now destroyed. The walnut stained nightstands you had picked were tilted over and broke, the carpet stained with blood, too much for a single person to not need a transfusion. The closet lay open, bullet shells spilled over the floor, but no gun to be found.
Then, Kyle’s near dead eyes hooked on a flimsy piece of film, the once shiny photo covered with loving smudges of his fingertips. Through the video call, smiling back at him was his girl, your eyes crinkled with a smile, laughter escaping your lips as you beamed up at him. The photograph was so immensely special, a piece he carried everywhere in his vest— away on missions he would often find his thumb tracing across your face, pressing a gentle kiss where your cheek was.
Now the picture haunted him, scared him to his very core. It was always in his pocket, but here in a lifeline connection it made his heart stop.
It wasn’t supposed to be there, corners covered in blood as it mocked him like a biting snake.
“Steaming Jesus…” Soap connected the dots, hand on Gaz’s shoulder.
“Annie, call the police.” Gaz spat, already fleeing with no regard whenever she was calling the authorities. Instead, his feet hurried down the dull halls of the base, making his way towards Captain John Price’s office.
Whoever came up with the theory of an out of body experience must have never been tortured, you had decided.
If you saw yourself in the mirror, you wouldn’t recognize yourself, that was for certain. A deranged smile had made its way across your busted and swollen lips, your clenched teeth leaving sores against the flesh to suppress your screams. Now, you didn’t see the point, you’d rip your own lips off at the rate they were torturing you.
You weren’t sure what day it was, just that you were scared and you wanted Kyle.
Vomit clung to your neck, long dried and crusted, along with the mixture of blood slipping from the many blunt wounds on your head. You were certain you had a concussion, because whenever you saw the masked men come in with a weapon of choice, there was always two weapons blurred together. Or perhaps, they have gotten more creative with the torture.
You couldn’t cry anymore, far too dehydrated and starving for the shed of tears. Now you felt numb, fingers no longer shaking from the several breaks they’d performed so they could get information from you.
Information you had no way of knowing.
Where is the 141? What weapons did they confiscate? Where are they storing them?
You had babbled that you didn’t know, that Kyle never discussed his work with you, but they had taken it with a grain of salt, quite literally.
You were woken from your half conscious state by the absolute burning of salt placed on the infected laceration of your thigh, a knife wound they had produced several days before.
“Wake up, girl.”
You didn’t want to, knowing that if you did wake, it would only bring you more pain. You wanted to sleep forever, to dream instead of live in this nightmare. A slap to your cheek startled you further, allowing one eye to open with a struggle.
“You’re little hag of a neighbor found the present I left for the Sergeant. It’s a shame, I wanted him to find it so I could see his face.” Accented English flooded your ears, although it sounded too far away. A retaliating groan worked up your throat, the mere rattle causing your muscles and bones to ache.
“You’re running out of time, so tell me where the guns are.” He demanded, fingers squeezing upon your neck blotted in angry bruises.
“Fuck you.” You hoarsely gritted, eyes falling shut in preparation for whatever pain awaited. The burning pain of electricity was far worse than any burn caused by fire, it singed your hair and the smell of your burnt body had you sobbing with no tears.
“Please. Please, just kill me.” You begged, no longer able to hold your body up, everything was limp, your nervous system shutting down and allowing numbness to take over.
Another shock, and you saw black.
You dreamt of Kyle, the soothing touch of his rough and calloused hands, his obsession with history and the mini dates he’d make out of it, the crewneck sweaters he’d wear around the house. The scent of cardamom, cigarette smoke, and something sweet that had you bury your nose into his neck.
You hummed at the phantom smell of him, the thought blinding the pain as you abruptly entered consciousness again.
Salt rubbed into your wounds. The combined smell of Kyle and the excruciating pain awoken something in you— steel claws, hoarse breath, seeing red.
You screamed, so loud your ears rang. It wasn’t your typical scream of pain, no— this was unadulterated rage. Rage that you were still being tortured for something you couldn’t control, for any Gods in the heavens that would listen— You needed to die, or you needed to escape. If you didn’t, you’d damn the whole world and spit on the surface until it crumbled in wrath.
“Kill me, you bastard!” You screeched as your sight adjusted on the tall masked man from before. How his hand was leant just too close to your bloodied mouth. Without even thinking you leant in like a caged animal, clamping your teeth down on his fingers with all the force you could muster. You bit into cartilage and bone, breaking skin and tasting the irony flavor of blood.
Even more satisfying was the absolute bloodcurdling howl he released, attempting to wriggle his hand out of your jaws, only damaging more.
But nothing good ever lasted forever.
You didn’t catch the sound of rattling until the metal piece of a pipe hit your jaw, a loud crack breaking your jaw with so much force you could only gurgle. Your body didn’t give you a choice, no longer able to clamp your jaw so you had to release him. You let out your own howl in pain, realizing now this was the last straw. If you weren’t saved, you’d bleed out and rot in the cold chair they strapped you to.
Vision blurred, you didn’t see the captor grab a knife with his non dominant hand, little whines leaving him as his hand lay mutilated and cradled to his chest.
He shifted behind you, holding the knife out, looking to strike upon your hunched over spinal cord, a horrific and painful death.
“Drop it, or I fuckin’ swear to god I’ll blow a hole in you.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to look up, knowing if you did you’d likely pass out from the pain. But you knew that voice, and if you were hallucinating, so be it, at least you could have heard Kyle Garrick’s voice one more time.
“She’s already dead.”
Then there was white hot pain, and blackness.
It’d been around the eighty-three hour mark when there was finally a hit on your potential location. Gaz hadn’t slept in days, and neither had any of the rest of the one-four-one. His worry was contagious, and it set a fire under all of them, scorching if the group came close to dozing off.
“John, we’ve got a pin, it’s not 100 percent, but it’s our best chance.” Laswell’s voice broke over the comms, halting Gaz’s pacing for a moment.
“Send it.”
The heli to the frigid frontier of Siberia was far too long, even as the the four had made quick work of the pathetic guard posts and ambushed the barrack. Still, they didn’t find you, and it was taking a toll on his mental health.
That was until he heard the horrific sound of a scream.
He took off fast, the barrel of his gun still smoking from the rapid release of gunpowder. His team followed behind, being his flank and support as they have for the most miserable week of his life.
An anguished cry, feminine—sounded from below a latch under a misplaced rug, his fingers grasped the handle, pulling silently to allow stealth. He’d need to be quick, as most kidnappers killed their victims within the first 48 hours. It’s been long past that.
Oh, how his heart bled when he looked beyond the shadows and into the spotlight where you looked dead. You were disfigured and bleeding, scared and wild. A caged animal subjected to a butcher while still breathing.
Anger was all he felt.
A man, dressed in a Konni uniform, a black shawl covering his face was seething, clutching a hunting knife just above your neck, where spinal cord met the soft skin.
“Drop it, or I fuckin’ swear to god I’ll blow a hole in you.” He found himself growling, aiming his weapon right between the man’s eyes. He’d kill him, despite the orders he’d receive, despite the gurgling of blood that fled your mouth. All Kyle Garrick felt was rage as the blade plunged against your neck, missing the viral artery due to the bullet now in his skull.
It wasn’t enough, never would it be.
“Oh God, Sweetheart.” Kyle found himself mumbling, panic sparking and erupting through every nerve in his body. You were dead, you had to be, so much blood, so much torture.
He rushed to you, catching your limp form that was practically glued to the seat they had tied you to. His hands were sticky with blood in mere seconds, attempting to plug the wound with his own flesh.
“I can’t feel a pulse.” His captain called close, Gaz not even noticing him as his fingers moved from your carotid.
“Med Evac is on the way, Soap start compressions, Gaz keep her airway clean,” Ghost ordered calmly, used to the blood and guts of innocents.
Gaz’s hand caressed your face, his other still securely planted on your wound.
In the first time in a while, he prayed.
“God, take me. Not her, not her.”
It’d been weeks.
Weeks since you’d medically been induced into a coma. They told him you’d go into shock from all the extensive injuries and infections, and it was for the best. He’d left only to shower and relieve himself, the rest of the time Gaz’s thumb drew careful circles on your palm.
Bandages covered your fingers, hard casts forming them back in place where bone had broke. Your cheeks were sunken, nutrition being forced into you through IV. Some of your wounds had healed, bruises now a pale yellow and lacerations now scabbed over.
Still you couldn’t get yourself to wake, even when you regained your sensation and could hear the gentle snores of someone next to you. The beeping of the monitor is what made your heavy eyes peel open— the sound close to that of an alarm clock.
Then you could feel. Fell the excruciating pain beyond your neck, the ache in your fingers, the warmth of the treated infection on your leg. But, the pain all dulled in comparison to the steady hand that rested on your open palm.
You were angry, angry he hadn’t shown up earlier. Angry that you were captured, upset that you now had plentiful scars.
Your eyes opened wider, and when you glanced at him, all the pain and anger and hurt flew away, only replaced with relief. He looked peaceful, eyes shut and soft exhales indicating he was asleep. But if you looked closer you could see the bags under his eyes, the bitten lip that indicated he was anxious, and the grown out stubble he typically hated.
“He just fell asleep.” A deep voice startled you, making you wince before attempting to silently sit up. You attempted to speak as well, but no sound came out. The man seemed to understand, for he was standing with a hmph, extending a pitcher of water to your dry lips. You tried to part them wider, so the straw could be placed, but your jaw burned at the movement and almost made you yelp. Instead, he tipped the pitcher, allowing it to pool. You tapped his arm after a moment, notifying him you were done.
You observed his boonie hat he wore, as well as the famous chops and blue eyes that held so much concealed loss. Kyle’s captain, John Price.
“Glad we found ya’, love. For your sake as well as his.”
You had so many questions. How long were you gone from home, where had you been, how many days were you in a coma? Then others, had I left the stove on? Stove? I’m hungry. Did the bill get payed this month? Will Kyle still love me with all these hideous scars?
It’s as if Price could hear all your thoughts, see the turmoil and pain laced in your eyes that welled with tears.
“Whatever your thinkin’, it’s going to be alright. Everything’s taken care of. That man hasn’t left your side, lord save em’.” He pointed at Kyle, who wrinkled his nose at the noise of his captain, slowly stirring awake.
“Told ya to not let me fall asleep.” His voice snarked, making your lips curl in sweet affection. It was good to know he hadn’t lost his sass. Your hand slowly trailed to his own, not quite able to close around his fingers.
The movement made him shift, surprise dancing in his eyes as he glanced at you. A million emotions fluttered across his face, but in the end he settled on concern. “Do you need the nurse? Are you in pain? What can I do?”
You barely heard the click of the door as Price left the room.
“Hold…me.” You choked out. If you could, you’d pinch yourself, making sure you were awake and feeling the warm and gentle embrace of Kyle, his forearms cradling your abdomen, and lips gently pecking against your face.
“Thought you… weren’t coming.” You choked again, painfully holding your chest while you coughed. There was a million things you wanted to say, thousands of things you needed to do, hundreds of doubts.
But oh, when he kissed you, you forgot about the pain, the anxiety, the anger for a simple moment.
“I’ll always find you, always.” He held you, knowing he’d have to nurse you back to health. Physically and emotionally. But he would. Oh, he would.
#call of duty modern warfare#cod#modern warfare#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz#gaz x reader
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