#From impromptu car rides

[starfleetwitch]

Mummy's best boy in the world till the very end ❤️

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: February 5

"It's Electric" Diamond Head cover by Metallica

[januaryembrs]

NEARLY BROUGHT ME TO MY KNEES | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [2]

Description: FIVE times Spencer thinks he might like you + the ONE time he knows.

Word length: 20k

Trigger Warnings: death, murder, Lauren arc, spencer's addiction mentioned, Diana's schizophrenia mentioned, vomit, alcohol, blood, usual criminal mind warnings. mommy AND daddy issues in the prentiss family.

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‘so sweet with a mean streak

nearly brought me to my knees.’

The one where he tries flirting

Emily tutted at her as the girl blindly shoved the Lucky Charms in her mouth, her tongue staining a gross blue-green colour from the additives as she read from a battered copy of Anna Karenina. Bugsy had been living with her for just two weeks now, since her impromptu fleeing from the altar, and Emily’s certainly had a good insight into the life of the twenty three year old. 

Yes, it was her birthday next week. No, she didn’t act her age anymore than she had at twenty. 

“Bug, slow down.” Emily urged, a rogue orange marshmallow dribbling down her chin as she plunged the spoon in before she’d even swallowed the last mouthful, “You get sick when you eat too fast,” 

Bugsy waved her off with the utensil, not even ripping her eyes away from the page in front of her, scooping up the marshmallow with the side of her finger and popping it into her mouth. 

Emily rolled her eyes, downing a few sips of her coffee and heading for the stairs, knowing her ride would be here any moment and she still had yet to change her shirt from the one she’d spilled toothpaste down not ten minutes earlier. 

“Niko needs breakfast when you’re done,” The older of the two shouted down to the breakfast table, a streak of tabby grey running under her feet at the sound of food. Bugsy had insisted she bring her new feline friend into Emily’s apartment, and as much as she’d hated the way she nearly tripped over the chubby bastard almost every day they’d been here, she certainly had a fondness for him. 

Bugsy hummed in acknowledgement, though she scraped the edges of her bowl clean by the time the cat in question hopped up onto the counter in search of her leftover milk. 

“This is not for you, you have too much already,” She scolded, shovelling the last few sugary pieces of cereal into her mouth right as the door knocked. 

She dogeared her page, gulping down a quick sip of Emily’s coffee, cringing when she caught it was much too strong for her liking, and heading for the door, her sister yelling to her again. 

“Bug, can you get that- wait- are you wearing pants?” 

She certainly wasn’t, having rolled straight out of bed in a pyjama shirt and underwear, and towards the promise of breakfast, nor as she swung the front door to the apartment open before Emily had a chance to rush down the stairs.

Spencer could have laughed when he saw her, all too reminiscent of the first time he’d met her. The boxers that hugged her legs beneath a large top he was entirely convinced was not hers, though her face lit up in excitement to see him. 

“Good morning!” He thrust a coffee to-go into her hand, still warm even from where it had been jostled around in his car.

“You’re my saviour,” She grinned, sipping on the sweet beverage with bright eyes, “Cute sweater vest-” 

She was quickly manhandled behind the door by two firm hands, Emily’s face enraged as she glared down at her sister where she was now out of sight from the doctor. 

“What did I tell you about wearing pants? Huh? You nearly gave Mrs Jensen a heart attack last week,” Emily hissed, as Bugsy shrugged, remembering the look of horror the old woman across the hall had given her when she’d taken the trash out in a hoodie and booty shorts.

“It’s Spencer,” She poked her head around the door, despite Emily’s shoving, like she was taming a wild animal, “You don’t mind, do you?”

He shook his head, an amused and easy smile on his face as he watched the sisters bicker, not entirely unlike the way he and Emily tended to pick at one another. 

“Not at all; I agree pants are loathable,” And he wasn’t lying. He tried to go for looser fitting trousers or sweat pants, hating the way the tight fabrics restricted his legs, rubbed his skin, making him want to itch and squirm inside his body. 

“Don’t you start,” Emily pointed at him, huffing as she stepped out of the apartment, “You know she gets all worked up and weird on sugar,” 

“Hey, I’m the last person to deny someone a coffee,” He replied, and the two turned to head back to his car, not before he threw the younger woman a look over his shoulder and a wave. 

“Go save the world, kiddos.” She waved back, sipping her coffee indeed with bare legs that would have a nun blushing, “Curfews at nine, Doctor Reid, I expect both of you home for dinner!” She nudged the door closed with her hip before Niko could run out after Emily, and Spencer chuckled to himself, shaking his head. 

“See, told you,” Emily sniggered, rolling her eyes, “Weird,” 

Though that wasn’t quite the word he’d have used. 

–

A killer, so far as they had been able to profile from the four bodies, was targeting women he picked up in night clubs in Atlanta. Most of the team, except Derek, had outgrown the clubbing scene, though Spencer didn’t quite think he’d ever been in it to start with. They all went to O’Keeffe’s usually once a month or so for a quick drink, but it was not big on his list. 

Rossi, Reid and Derek stared at the puddle of blood on the sidewalk, wincing as Emily leaned over the balcony, the five story drop making her tug her lip in between her teeth. 

This woman must have been terrified by something, someone, to see this as a better way out. 

“Maybe she fought back,” Hotch speculated behind her, drawing her attention back to the cleaning equipment scattered over the floor, entirely different to the last three crime scenes where they had been arranged neatly into a triangle, “And when Becky fought back, his routine was compromised, cause he knew the police would respond,”

“Or she could have jumped,” Emily responded gravely, shaking her head at the carpet beneath her boots, “Her nervous system is pumping adrenaline, her fight or flight response kicks in?” Both were equally plausible options, but not ones they had time to entirely pick over. 

“He’s struck two Fridays in a row, and if his routine’s been interrupted, it might compel him to strike again,” Hotch said, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his brow furrowed deeper than it usually was. 

“It’s Saturday, the clubs will be packed tonight,” Emily replied, her eyes sad, worried. 

“Take a look at the classes the Unsub might have taken, we need to generate a suspect pool as soon as possible,” Her boss ordered, and she nodded heading for the door before she stopped, looking at him with a grimace he didn’t quite understand, “What is it?”

“Bugs-my sister used to work as a shot girl in a club.” She said after a moment of thought, “She could smell a rat from a mile away; said most girls who work in bars get this sixth sense about guys with bad intentions, so they know when to cut them off earlier than most,” 

Emily looked at him for a moment, and he seemed troubled, hesitant as she was to even tease the idea to him, before he sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. 

“Call her in.” He said through an outbreath, gritting his teeth the way he did when he was in between a rock and a hard place. 

Rock being another girl murdered by tonight with a huge opportunity to catch the guy in the act missed. Hard place being a twenty-three year old risking her skin for his team for a third time. He hated the paperwork she brought him, hated the look on her face the day Spencer and Derek had dragged her out of that chapel bloodied and shaken even more. 

“But she wears a vest under her clothes, and she stays with Reid and Morgan,” He reasoned, “And just purely scouting; if the Unsub strikes, she gets out there like any other civilian.”

Emily nodded, her hand routing through her pockets for her phone already, “Couldn’t agree more,” She said, hitting the call button with a sigh. She just hoped this time her baby sister wouldn’t be making any drastic calls like throwing herself in the Unsub’s way. Though, Emily knew Spencer wouldn’t let her take another hit for him ever again. Not after the way he’d seemed so distraught the moment she’d been dragged from that room, his eyes all but glistening with tears when he’d seen her on the bed, bloodied and beaten for his sake. 

No, Emily could stake her life on the fact Reid would go down swinging before that ever happened to her again. 

-

“When you think about the nature of serial crimes, it’s amazing there aren’t more predators in clubs,” Spencer said, hoping the pretty girls he’d managed to snag into conversation didn’t hear the way his voice stuttered. This was so far out of his depth, the entire club atmosphere suffocating him worse than any tight pants ever could. The music was too loud, the heavy bass making him wince, the air was too close, too warm, the bodies that kept shoving past him made him want to shower for two hours straight and then wash his hands as well. He’d turned down the drink Derek had offered him, knowing the exact amount of bacteria that swarmed the ice behind the bar, on the rims of the glasses, on the taps- 

Spencer was more than overwhelmed. And talking to beautiful women was not helping his flushed demeanour whatsoever. 

“I mean, excessive amounts of alcohol, countless opportunities for date rape drugs, not to mention suprisingly risky behaviour being pursued,” He counted off, his satchel strapped tightly to his side, “All right, so who wants a flyer?” The three women turned their nose up in awkward smiles, the tallest pushing past him with little more than an outright scoff, the other girl following her like lost dogs, “Nobody? Okay, all right,” He said, his face crestfallen at their reaction, though he wasn’t so unused to it. Girls tended to react that way when he spoke, his entire high school career had been the same. Infact, the only girl other than his co-workers who ever bothered to listen when he spoke was-

“I’ll take one,” A voice came from behind him, the same one he had incidentally been thinking of since they’d left Emily’s apartment, and he could already tell she was smiling before he whipped around to see her slinking through the crowd. 

He was ready to retort something clever, but felt his words congeal in his throat. He had thought, that day when he’d stopped the elevator and seen her in a sodden wedding dress, that he had seen her at her most beautiful. Yes, her makeup had been tracking down her face with her tears, her hair sticking to her cheeks, her expression weepy. But she had reminded him of a star, glistening with the rain, the water shimmering off the snow white fabric, it had taken his breath away then, even when she’d thrown her arms over his shoulders, as if he was the only thing that she could grab on to for safety. 

But that dress was nothing like the one she wore now. 

It was nothing extravagant, and truthfully he’d seen at least ten girls in this club alone that had gone way more lavish than she had bothered to on such short notice. But, Spencer couldn’t help but take her whole image in as she shoved her way in front of him, an easy smile on her face. 

“Beats boxers and pyjama shirts, huh?” She twirled cheekily, warming under his gaze that blinked heavily at her. The dress had been an old thing she’d bought for a frat party, when she’d felt particularly sorry for herself and was going out looking for a bonehead jock to take home. It fit her nicely, complimented the areas she wanted it to, hid the others. A good fail safe option for a last minute night out like this. Covered the kevlar vest Hotch and Emily had wrangled her into.

Not her finest moment, being jumped on by her older sister as her boss forced the bullet jacket over her head; the new girl, Jordan, staring in discomfort as she’d cursed both of them out colourfully for ruining her outfit, but the way Spencer seemed to gulp heavily made her smile wider. 

“You look…” He swallowed again, his fingers digging into the flyers in his hand. Hot. She looked hot. Hot enough that he felt his face flush with the same feeling, he hoped she couldn’t see the way he blushed beneath the club lights, “Beautiful,” He settled on, because ‘hot’ was an entirely Derek word to use. 

“So you keep telling me,” Bugsy preened under his gaze, grinning like she knew something he didn’t. Grabbing one of the flyers from his sweaty palms gently, she took a look at the general sketch, not noticing the way he had yet to tear his eyes off her, “Alright, this the guy?” 

“Yeah, we think he has a mark of some sort- like a birthmark or a scar over his left eyebrow,” He informed, corralling her towards where Morgan stood, his own eyes widening at the girl’s attire. 

They knew she was coming to help scout the scene, they didn’t realise she’d come so ready. Derek immediately felt stupid for doubting her. 

“Woah, did someone call the fire department, because you’re about to set the damn sprinklers off,” He teased, her face lighting up at the man she knew had a way of making her feel a million bucks every time he saw her. 

Emily said he had little sisters of his own, and maybe that was how he knew just what to say. He had many years of experience being the best big brother. 

“Oh, please, you guys spoil me,” She snickered, though her eyes scanned the crowd for a general scope of the club. Safe to say she did not miss the eight pm till four am shifts she used to pull, nor did she miss the drunk bodies swaying around her, the men who would get handsy, the girls who would get scrappy, “So, how’s it going?” 

“Not good, I gave the profile to one woman and she asked if I was the unsub,” Spencer sighed, running a hand through his rogue curls, the humidity of the stuffy bar making them tighten around his ears just that bit more. “How are you doing?” 

“Well, I gave out all my flyers,” Derek said smugly, though Spencer’s eyebrows raised, a smile teasing at his lips. 

“Oh yeah? How many phone numbers did you get?” Bugsy snorted at his words, looking between the men with a smirk. 

“None, I’m working the case here, kids,” Derek tutted, to which Spencer and Bugsy looked at eachother with identical doubt, flicking their gaze back to Morgan. He huffed, “Okay, four were offered, but I didn’t take any of them.” 

Spencer’s jaw dropped, face scrunching in confusion how Morgan was so charismatic with women even when he wasn’t trying. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go grab more flyers from the van. You,” He clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “Need to relax, man. Remind me to teach you the basics on picking up girls. And you,” Derek pointed to where Bugsy nodded patiently, “Make sure wonder boy doesn’t get eaten alive. And stay together.” 

She nodded again, watching him leave through the crowd; already a woman grabbed on his arm for his attention, where she watched him politely decline with one of those flirty smoulders he’d mastered. 

“I don’t get how he does it. I mean, I get he has the whole body of a God thing going for him,” Spencer sighed, as the two of them went back out into the crowd, scanning for a group of girls who looked particularly sober enough to listen, “But, he just has this way, you know. I’ll don’t think I’ll ever have the way,” 

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” She chastised, nudging him affectionately with her elbow, “You’re very beautiful yourself, you know? You don’t need some stupid way, you just need to be yourself,” 

She said it as if it was nothing, as if it hadn’t just hit him in the chest that she thought he was attractive, though he still remembered that first day they’d met when she assumed he was a stripper. 

His heart swelled in his chest. 

“You really think so?” He asked unsure, waiting for her to laugh in his face and tell him it had just been a tease, she was good at those. But she was never cruel. Never to him. He didn’t know why he’d expected it. 

“Absolutely! I’ve seen like three girls already giving you goo-goo eyes. Believe me, you got the looks,” She simpers, watching his eyes scan the crowd to look for the supposed culprits. 

“So, what, it’s my personality they don't like?” He asked, though he knew that was more than likely the case. He’d always been told he buzzed in people’s ears like a fly, like he was simply background noise the greater population wanted to tune out. 

He knew that would be it. It didn’t stop the small stab of hurt in his stomach however. 

“If someone doesn’t like your personality, that is a them problem, Spencer, not you,” Bugsy was quick to snap, the joking lessening in her eyes as she caught his dejected expression, “Girls like it when you talk about something you enjoy, something you know what you’re talking about. Which should be easy, since you know everything. What do you feel most comfortable talking about?” 

“Statistics,” He said with a nod, to which she looked at him fondly.

“Okay, we have statistics as a backup option. Anything else?” She looked at him, the light bouncing off her eyes in a way that had him pause to think. 

“Magic?” He offered, and she smiled even wider, if that was even possible. 

“Magic! Perfect, girls love feeling magical,” She beamed, nudging him again with her elbow, and the two of them walked over to the bar, “Show me then, Gandalf. What moves would you pull on me if I was a girl?”

He blinked at her, “Are you … not a girl?” He asked, pure bewilderment on his face as he stole a few napkins from the counter. 

She snickered, “Okay, if I wasn’t me. If you didn’t know me,” 

“If I didn’t know you, I’d be way too nervous to even talk to you. And you definitely wouldn’t want to talk to me,” He said as he fiddled with the paper between his obnoxiously long fingers, folding the sheets into miniature shapes. 

She chuckled at him, shaking her head. It had never been like this with them before. Sure, she teased him, like she always had, but he was teasing back. Complimenting her with a seriousness beyond just being nice. 

Something was different in him since the day Cyrus dragged her away. And if that hadn’t done it, then seeing her every morning for two weeks had changed the boyish anxiety that had lingered even then. 

“Stop stalling and show me these tricks of yours,” She bit playfully, though the grin she gave him was genuine as she saw something mischievous flash in his eyes. 

“Patience is virtue, patience is virtue-” He murmured, fiddling with the short, plastic straws they kept at the bar, “Now for this to work, I’m going to need a beautiful assistant. Do you think you could find one for me-” 

She smacked his arm, and he snickered. She shook her head, fighting her own laugh overcoming her. 

Maybe she was right. Talking about something he loved made him feel entirely at ease, like he controlled every angle their conversation took, and the air between them had taken this odd electric turn he wasn’t expecting like someone had pumped a thousand volts under his skin.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” He replied, holding out one of the straws, about as plain and simple as it would be if it were in a drink, “But I will need some magic words,”

“Ofcourse,” She drawled, her cheeks hurting from how tight she was smiling, “What are they?”

“Magic words are, ‘I’ll be there’” He instructed, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves as he watched her frown, and he pointed the straw at her mouth like a microphone, “You got it?” 

“Yep,” She responded, even though the confusion read clear as day on her face. He tapped the straw on her nose and cleared his throat. 

“3, 2, 1,” He tapped it to her temple, then to each of her shoulders, “Go on a date with me?” 

“I’ll be there,” She responded, and in a strobe of light the single instrument became a trio of origami roses, stuffed into the straws as stems. 

Her brain caught up to her as he gently placed them in her hand, her eyes gazing at him like he had just presented her with a 24 carat diamond, though in reality it was nothing more than a silly trick with napkins and plastic. 

“Spencer,” She said earnestly, and he could have sworn her voice quivered for a split second, before she shook her head at him, punching him on the hip gently, “You are the most humble man I’ve ever met. You do that to any other girl and you’re getting laid, I’m telling you,” 

He rubbed his chin bashfully, both of them catching the way the waitress behind the bar watched him with large, blue eyes Bugsy could have bathed in. She was gorgeous, and she stared at Spencer as if she’d been the one given roses. 

Attracted. Interested. 

“Talk to her,” Bugsy whisper-yelled, nodding over to the barmaid who busied herself with another order, though they both saw the way her flicking glances to the two of them as she scooped ice, “She would have seen if a guy like that frequented somewhere like here, talk to her,”

“What- no-” He protested, but his eyes widening as Bugsy leaned over the bar to flag the woman down with that playful charisma of hers, not missing the way a few heads turned as the dress tightened around her ass as she bent forward. 

He felt his chest flash with anger, glaring at the men, hoping it was enough to ward them off. Her hand enclosed around his wrist, drawing his attention back to the bartender who watched him with a sweet face. He had to admit she was attractive. 

“This is my very best friend, Spencer,” Bugsy told the woman, who smiled at him, and the Prentiss girl lifted his hand up to wave at her like he was a ragdoll, “Spencer, wanted to show you something, didn’t you, Spence?” 

Raising her eyebrows at him, nodding to the flyers in his hand. 

“I’m gonna go dance,” She fibbed, knowing she was going to go scout out the crowd to see if any guys fit the profile, nudging him a little harder than before, “Remember what we talked about. I’ll be by the DJ,” 

Grinning encouragingly, he watched her swoop into the crowd like it was second nature, not missing the collection of guys who watched her every move; she captured the room when she moved, when she smiled, when she politely excused herself past a group of girls that tried to pull her into their circle with friendly cheers. 

He did another one of his tricks for Austin, he’d come to learn was the name of the girl behind the bar, but it hadn’t felt the same, not even when she gave him her number unprompted, even as she flirted, smiled prettily, batted those sea blue eyes at him. It wasn’t the same. 

He worried for a moment that the electricity he’d felt was reserved only for Bugsy, but he squashed it down faster than he could confront the idea. 

2. The one where he nearly dies

“I don’t know how to do this,” JJ confessed, her bluebell eyes filled with tears as she stared out of her boss’ office and into the bullpen full of officers, scientists and even the damn military tearing through pages and pages of resources for answers. 

Anthrax. A weapon of mass destruction they’d already had a small dose of, was on the move through the BAU’s own city. And they each had strict instructions to not alert their loved ones. 

“I can’t stop thinking about Henry,” She whimpered through a strong facade as she turned to Hotch, and she saw the same guilt eating him up in those dark eyes of his that rarely let anything slip. 

He had Jack. He had Haley, even with the divorce papers signed so long ago. He had people at risk too. And yet she couldn’t stop seeing her precious little boy’s face as he lay back in his pushchair and enjoyed the sights of the park, the same park that had just been targeted with an airborne disease-

“He goes for a walk almost every single day at Potomac Park,” She sniffed, the nausea chewing away at her brain as she recounted the lesions on that poor teenage girls skin, that's going to be Henry, that’s going to be Will, “What type of mother am I if I don’t atleast call and tell them to stay home?” 

“JJ, we can’t,” Hotch said, though he felt his own dam start to tear down as he tried not to think of what could possibly happen to his own sweet son. 

“I know, but-” Her throat bobbed, “It-it’s not just me- Emily’s worried about Bugsy. She told me she cuts through the park on the way to her lectures- she has one every day this week- Hotch-”

It was true. She had caught Emily in her own turmoil as the woman sped off to grab a drink seconds after chugging down the dose of Cipro they’d all been given that morning. She’d caught her filling a glass of water until the liquid started leaking down the sides and went over her shaking fingers, and even then she’d had to tug her friend out of whatever rabbit hole the words ‘Media Blackout’ had sent her down. 

“I understand you both have people you want to protect,” Hotch was the voice of reason, as he always was, and it stung her to see his face so cold since she knew he was drowning his own sorrows behind it, “But if we all called home and used this information to give us an advantage other people don’t have, is that the right thing to do?” 

She bit her lip, knowing he was right. She just prayed on everything she had Will would stay home with Henry today, Haley would have a movie night with Jack, and for whatever she had seen in Emily’s eyes earlier, a pure, unadulterated self-loathing, that Bugsy at least took the day off teaching.

JJ prayed, and prayed, and prayed. 

–

She shuffled her notes together as she marked papers at her desk. They let her take the office to herself since she’d been at the University for five months now, gave her free reign of her lectures without having a supervisor like they had the first eight weeks or so. Bugsy enjoyed, surprising as it was to her, the feeling of somewhere that wasn’t the laboratory. Emily and Spencer had forced her to apply for jobs when they caught her binge watching real housewives for the sixth time back to back, of course lacking any bottoms. 

Emily didn’t know why she thought twenty-four year old Bugsy would be any different. They had thought at least that Derek holding her hair back on the night of her birthday party as she threw up copious amounts of jello shots on the sidewalk would be an eye opening moment, but it hadn’t deterred her in the slightest. She had just chucked a handful of gum in her mouth, patted the man on the back and asked Emily to hit up the drive thru on their way home. 

It wasn’t until she got the job did she feel a little bit more responsible, like what she was doing actually affected the people around her. Teaching first year college students was so very different than she’d expected, she was the authority figure. 

She could hear her mother laughing at her now. 

She almost smudged the little smiley face she’d drawn beside one of her student’s B+ as the phone rang on her desk, because she had an office phone believe it or not, and she cleared her throat, trying to sound as grown up as possible whilst also trying not to grin how excited she was to use her new landline. 

“Miss Prentiss speaking, who’s calling?” She said, almost not recognising herself as she squeezed her gel pen in delight. She had this grown up thing down to a tea.

“Hi, Bug.” Spencer’s voice sounded out of breath, and she heard his converse slapping against a linoleum floor fast, as if he was pacing, “I got a quick hypothetical to run through with you,” 

“Y-yeah, sure- Where are you?” She asked, her brows furrowing when he gave a wheezy cough, “Spence?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you, but I’m fine- for now,” He winced as he said the last part, as if it had slipped unintentionally, as if he knew what was coming next. He could practically hear her brain ticking over, “So, when you’re in the lab-”

“What do you mean for now?” She cut him off, standing up from her desk, already collecting her pencils back into their little pink case, “Where’s Emily? Is she okay? Is anyone hurt?”

“Everyone’s fine; as I was saying, hypothetically, when you’re in the lab where would you-” He talked over her right back, his slender fingers flicking through the piles of work, hoping he stumbled on a formula, a sticky note, a damn cheat sheet, anything. 

“Don’t avoid my question, Spencer,” She snapped, and she could already feel the worry lines on her forehead. 

He sighed, hoping she couldn’t hear the way his chest rattled and he choked down a cough. It would only make her worry more. 

“I promise I will tell you what’s going on if you just answer my question,” Spencer rushed, feeling his face growing sweaty, opening the entire cabinet of drawers. “Okay?”

She nodded, biting her nail, as she sat back down. “Okay fine, shoot,”

“Where would you put your valuable items if you didn’t trust your lab partner while the two of you were working together?” He asked, wiping his brow with his sleeve as he held the phone tight to his ear with his shoulder. 

She paused for a moment, “Well it’s standard practice that all jewellery comes off before we get scrubbed, so as not to contaminate anything. I usually put my scrunchie through my rings and tied it back into my hair so they wouldn’t get stolen. I knew some guys who put their watches around their ankles. Basically anywhere we could feel it on us,” 

He cleared his throat again, and she heard him take a few steps, “How’s grading papers going? Did you get a fax machine yet?” 

He was trying to change the subject, trying to take her mind off whatever it was he was doing that required such an urgent and peculiar question. 

“It’s going good, I miss you bringing me coffee; it was like I had a maid who helped me with my crosswords,” She said, biting her bottom lip squeezing her thumb in the middle of her fist to slow the nerves. He tried to pretend he wasn’t smiling hearing that. “Now tell me what’s wrong. Did you go running without your inhaler again? I told you to leave a spare at ours so I could rescue you if you ever-” 

“Bugsy, you’re a genius!” He cried, ignoring the way it made his throat burn, “Remind me to tell you every single day how smart you are- I have to go,” 

“Spence- Spencer-” She tried to cut in, but he had already put the phone down. 

So much for not worrying her, she thought, as she got on the phone to Emily within seconds. 

-

Bugsy all but burst through the hospital doors, apologising when she nearly knocked a stack of files from a nurse's hands, wishing she had an inhaler herself after she had ran all the way from the car park, including the three flights of stairs. 

After calling in sick the rest of the day, and practically volleying her rucksack into the passenger's seat of her car, she had blindly called Emily four more times until the woman answered with a frightened lilt to her voice. 

Spencer was headed to the hospital. Spencer was headed there on full blues with lungs full of an even deadlier strain of Anthrax. Last Emily had heard he was getting worse. Bugsy put her foot down on the pedal even harder. 

She knew the speeding ticket would come any day, and didn't even want to think about the state of her parking. All she cared about the second the lady at the desk had said what room he was in was seeing he was okay, that he wasn’t growing lesions or choking on his own blood or having half of his brain boiled alive. 

Bugsy felt a small spike of panic, if it could even get worse, as she yanked the curtain back to see him asleep, a cannula tucked into his nose, a hospital gown tied over his shoulders. 

Diving for his file that was attached to the end of his bed, she looked through his information to check what meds he’d been given. He once told her he was allergic to narcotics, said he had been since birth, and while she trusted one of the team to have passed the information on, she had to see it for herself that he was stable. 

No narcotics given. Only paracetamol for his fever that was rapidly coming down. She could breathe again. 

She jumped out of her skin when the curtain rail was pulled back a second time, and Derek seemed to startle for a moment too before a tired smile met his handsome face. 

“Where have you been, Baby Prentiss?” His breath knocked out of him when she threw herself at him, a sigh of relief coming from her bitten lips. 

“Oh, thank god you’re okay,” She murmured, and his chuckle echoed through his chest into her ear, “You all worried me half to death,”

“You’re looking very grown up,” He teased as he patted her on the back. And she was. She had taken to wearing maxi skirts and tights, even throwing on a cute blazer for affect, she was the teacher after all. She shoved him away with a smack to the chest. He laughed, holding up the opened pot of jell-o to her face, “Jell-o?”

She gagged, filled with memories of her birthday. 

He shook his head with a smile as she sat down in the seat next to the bed and he spooned the first mouthful of the fruity dessert into his mouth. 

“Is everyone else alright?” She asked, wringing her hands together. She fought back the urge to tuck Spencer’s curls behind his ear, knowing he was sleeping peacefully.

“Stop worrying. Team’s fine; we caught the guy and confiscated his supply. Even saved the last few survivors with you telling Reid where to look,” Morgan watched her jaw feather, and she picked under her nails. 

“I keep telling you guys, I didn’t do anything. I just… spoke to him. He’s the genius, not me,” She said solemnly, staring into her lap with a frown. 

“Not to him. Whole journey back, before the aphasia kicked in, he kept telling paramedics to tell Doctor Kimura it was you who’d figured it out.” Derek said, but it seemed to make her sulk more. 

She said nothing, pulling out her book from her bag to continue reading as she waited for him to wake up, and Derek took it as a sign she was in no mood to talk, god forbid even take a compliment, and opened the magazine he’d grabbed from the cafeteria. 

–

Half an hour and another pot of pudding for Morgan later (she gagged again at the sweet strawberry smell of it), the pair of them sat in silence, reading their own materials when a very sleepy, doe eyed man looked up and frowned.

“Are you eating Jell-O?” Spencer asked, barely noticing the girl on the other side of the bed, who shot up out of her seat as he came around. 

“Hey doc. You have a visitor,” Morgan said with a small smile, Spencer’s face falling into a frown. He looked to the other side of him, just in time to see a worn copy of Middlemarch being flung to the floor and a hand grabbing his clammy ones tightly. 

“Spencer I’m- I’m so mad at you-” She gasped, every soppy feeling of sadness she’d been stewing in leaving her body when she saw his hazel eyes fall to her, “You put the phone down on me and next thing I know you’re in the back of an ambulance nearly flatlining- I’m so-” 

She breathed when she saw his eyes soften. He didn’t think she knew it but he saw the way her eyes glistened, her voice trembled underneath her anger. He felt the way she had yet to let go of his hand, how nice and warm it felt in his palm. 

“I’m sor-” He hadn’t even finished his apology when she had latched onto him, trying not to hug him too tight but hard enough she could tell herself he was still here. He was okay. 

And he could understand. He’d felt the same when they’d found her in that church, when Cyrus had hauled her away after she’d practically offered herself up in exchange for him. He’d known she was braver than she gave herself credit for, but that had stopped his heart right there and then. He had grabbed her in a hug the first chance he’d got even then, even when he barely knew her, when she was Emily’s sister and not Bugsy. Not the woman he’d spent every morning with for weeks bringing her a coffee just the way she enjoyed it, the woman he’d sat with on Emily’s couch with her legs across his lap as they did the puzzles in the morning paper together. She tried to do them, and he would finish them when she got too annoyed by the ones she couldn’t answer. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, his arms gently hugging her back and he felt something wet on his shoulder blade before he knew what it was. He felt even worse for worrying her, squeezing her tighter than was even comfortable for him. 

“Don’t do that to me again,” She said through tears as she settled in his arms. 

He really hoped she couldn’t hear the way his heart pounded. 

3. The one at Haley’s funeral

She had no idea what to say. Emily had always been the one who knew how to talk to people. She had this horrible habit of saying the first thing that came to her head, probably because a lot of the time it was the most real, and people liked real. 

But now wasn’t the time for what was best for her. Haley Hotchner had been murdered. 

She hadn’t spoken to Hotch yet, she’d only met the man a handful of times. But he’d invited her anyway, for the team. For Emily, maybe even Spencer; Emily said he liked when she was around. She couldn’t imagine any other reason she would be there. 

Other than, ofcourse, to be Spencer’s crutch. Literally. Since his real one had broken and he was still limping around with one knee weakened by the bullet wound in it. 

She’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d called from the hospital, again, though this time he’d waited until he’d gotten the all clear to tell her so she didn’t panic quite as much as last time. She’d cursed him out for being so reckless, and requested another week's sick pay to take care of him until he was able to actually walk. It was only a one year contract with the university anyway, she didn’t care if she missed a few days to make sure he was okay. 

“You look very handsome today,” She whispered to him as she hauled him out of the car, minding that he didn't hit his head on the ceiling. He gave her a small smile and tucked her own hair behind her ear seeing it come loose from its braid when she’d leaned down to grab him. 

“Just today?” He asked, and she finally smiled back. She’d been stuck in a bubble in the car; her and Emily both had. They had the same thinking face, he’d realised. 

“Just especially today,” She answered honestly, and he worked on adjusting his black jacket so she could hold onto him comfortably. She was quieter than usual. Feeble, almost. 

“Thankyou, you do too,” He replied, his face scrunching after a moment, “Look pretty I mean,” 

He leaned on her arm, looped it around hers as he tried to be the least amount of imposing as possible. That went about as well as you’d expect for a six foot one bag of bones. 

She gave up after just a few steps, moving his arm to wrap around her shoulder as she walked with him. To anyone else they would easily pass as a couple, especially as she squeezed him tightly to her when the men laid down Hayley’s coffin, and the service began. 

“W.S Gilbert wrote ‘It’s love that makes the world go around’ and if that’s true, then the world spun a little faster with Hayley in it.” Aaron began, his voice strong as his large hands gripped the eulogy like it would give him any comfort. She smiled softly, her eyes glued to the man who stood unmoving for his son, “Haley was my best friend since we were in high school. We certainly had our struggles but if there’s one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and our commitment to our son, Jack,” 

Bugsy smiled sadly when Jack looked to the floor bashfully. Glancing between the photo on top of the coffin, a beautiful blonde woman grinning back at her with brilliantly happy eyes and a soft face, she saw where he got most of his looks from. 

“Haley’s love for Jack was joyous, and fierce. That fierceness is why she isn’t here today. A mother’s love is an unrivalled force of nature, and we can all learn much from the way Haley lived her life. Haley’s death causes each of us to stop and take stock of our lives. To measure who we are and who we’ve become.” She felt Spencer’s head knock into hers, felt the sniff run through him, and she searched her pocket for a tissue, “I don’t have all those answers for myself, but I know who Haley was. She was the woman who died protecting the child we brought into this world together; and I will make sure Jack grows up knowing who his mother was. And how she loved and protected him. And how much I loved her.” 

If Haley were here today she would tell us not to mourn her death. She would tell us-” Aaron cut himself off with a watery voice, his resolve finally melting as he realised this would be some of his final words to his wife. Bugsy felt her bottom lip quiver in remorse, “She would tell us to love our families unconditionally. And to hold them close because in the end they are all that matter.” 

Spencer felt her tug him closer as she hid the lone few tears from the rest of the mourners and wished more than ever he could press a small kiss to her brow.

–

No, Bugsy was not good with knowing what to say and when. Wasn’t good at cheering people up no matter how much Spencer told her she always made him feel better. Didn’t really know much about how to make someone understand that she cared other than showing them with her whole body. 

So by the time it was her turn to offer condolences, she didn’t bother shaking his hand. That meant nothing to her. That was a business deal, that was an agreement, a formal way to pretend you cared. But she did, she felt terrible for Hotch, wanted to fix him and his sweet son until Haley was right back there to thank her. 

She didn’t shake his hand like everyone else had. He held his hand out for one, his eyes soft and warm, like he could see she was struggling. She brushed past his hand and just pulled him in for a hug, and he wondered if she was always going to greet him that way. 

“I guessed that sorry wouldn’t make anything better so I brought you the biggest bottle of wine the store had,” She murmured into his chest, and she was gobsmacked to hear him chuckle weakly. She felt his hands pat her on the back gently, and he appreciated her candour. “I’ve got some Xanax if you’d really like a treat,” 

She was a breath of fresh air. Aaron truthfully had been sick of people saying they were so sorry for his loss, and he felt like shaking them and yelling, screaming that they hadn’t been the one to kill Haley, Foyet had. 

He pushed all of it down, focusing on the way she’d tucked herself to him like she had the day she’d become a runaway bride dripping rainwater over his bureau floor. 

“She would have really liked you,” Aaron confessed, and they finally parted, and she saw he was smiling like he meant it, not just saying it to make her feel more comfortable being here. “You would have made her laugh,”

He saw the easy expression on her face fade, and she turned to look at her heels, nodding quietly. 

“I would have been lucky to have known her,” She said, handing him the gift bag with a very heavy present inside. “I only wish someone would ever love me the way you love her,’ 

And with that she bid him a smile, and returned to her seat in between Emily and JJ, the pair of them mother henning her all day.

Aaron wished he could have said more to her after that, but before he knew it, someone else was offering him their condolences, and the sadness in her voice was forgotten.

–

The team sat around the table, nursing their beers, or in Spencer and Bugsy’s case a tea. Spencer didn’t want to affect his healing process with alcohol, not that he’d ever been big on the stuff, and Bug said she struggled driving even without the help of a beer, so they chatted between sips from two very fancy china cups. 

Emily and JJ sat to the other side of her talking about how beautiful the flower arrangements were when a small, fawn haired body came wandering over to where Will held a one year old Henry on his knee. 

“Would he like to play?” Jack asked shyly, trying to peer up onto the adults table to see if there were any other kids his age that would like to do something with him. His dad had been busy talking to all those people, and auntie Jessica had been trying to make it round to every table to thank people for being here. He didn’t entirely understand what was happening, in all honesty.

“He’s still a little too small yet honey. In a year or so, you guys can be best friends,” JJ said sweetly as he pulled his chin up to the tabletop and spied the younger woman sitting next to uncle Spencer.

He tottered over to her, where she sat unaware she had a shadow until Spencer's face softened as he looked behind her, and she swivelled around in her seat. 

“Hello,” Jack said quietly, looking up at where she seemed to buffer, feeling eight pairs of eyes on her as she interacted with the small boy.

She had never been good with children, had never been around them since she was their age, even the kids she taught now were all at least eighteen. 

The mantra to absolutely not fuck up the next few moments reverberated around her head. 

She gave him a soft smile, holding out a hand for him to shake, “Hi, Jack. I’m Emily’s sister. You can call me Bugsy,”

His tiny nose scrunched as he watched her, shaking her hand the way dad had shown him how. 

“Bugsy? That’s a weird name,” He said, and she chuckled, “Like the bunny?”

She shrugged, “I guess like the bunny, yeah,” although she had never thought of that before. 

“Would you like to play with me?” Jack asked, and she felt her chest warm unnaturally. He had such a sweet face. It was just like the woman in the picture.

Smiling at him crookedly, she rooted around her bag for the notebook and pens she kept for her to-do lists. Maybe Spencer was rubbing off on her. 

“We could do some drawing if you want?” She offered, showing him the pad with kind eyes. That seemed to satiate him as he grabbed her knee and started pulling himself up to sit in her lap, and she paused. 

Kids were so funny, she realised, she would never just start grabbing someone she just met and asking to climb on their lap. 

She got him comfortable on her knee, not noticing the flashing glances Spencer gave her between his conversation with Kevin, Garcia’s beau, as Jack started drawing a bunny with a human face, that was supposedly meant to be her. 

Spencer watched her giggle as he gave the rabbit a pretty dress, like the one she was wearing, and Spencer had to admit it was a pretty dress she’d gone for today. Had he not been so mournful earlier he thinks he would have blushed how tight she’d held him. 

She showed him how to play noughts and crosses, and she let him win most of them, laughing when he asked to tear out the page from her notebook to show his dad later. 

That is, until the man himself came over to the table of his work colleagues, only to see the group watching their youngest playing with his sweet son. 

“Bugsy,” Hotch said, and her head shot up to him, a guilty look passing over her face, worried she’d overstepped, though the fact he hadn’t said her real name said otherwise, “Can I talk to you for a moment outside, please?”

She blinked, straightening in her seat “O-ofcourse!” Shuffling Jack off her lap as fast as she could without hurting him, smoothing out her dress down as she followed him to the small balcony the funeral home had. It was a classy manor, but she guessed Hotch would have only had the best for Haley. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Jack asked to sit on my lap- and- I’m not good with kids anyway I just didn’t want to tell him no, especially not today-” He put his hand on her shoulder to shut her up, a small smile spreading on his face. It was fatherly and calming, something her own father had been much too busy to ever bother with.  

“Not at all, that’s not why I called you out here,” He reassured, squeezing her gently as he leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath of the midnight air, and he felt his professional mask begin to slip. “I’ve been thinking… about how much help you've been to us over the years. Reid would be dead if it wasn’t for you.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he flashed her a look that said he was serious. “Let me finish,”

She wrung her hands guiltily, “Sorry,” 

“You’re very resilient far beyond your years, you’re incredibly charismatic when you need to be, and you’re by far one of the smartest people your age,” He said, watching her face to see how she felt. He knew she didn’t take compliments well, for some other reason they could dig into any other day. But he needed to say it now, needed her to know now for what he was about to ask her. 

“Whether that is true or not, why are you telling me this?” She asked politely, without the usual bite that went with it when they tried calling her something she wasn’t. 

“I need to take some time off to spend with Jack, try and help him…” He trailed off, unsure as to what he wanted to say. “Help him understand Haley’s not coming home,”

She nodded with a glistening lash line, and grabbed onto his arm gently.

“My team looks to me to be their glue, but I know I can’t keep everyone together and look after my son. Emily said your contract at the University was ending,” He cleared his throat, looking at her again with something vulnerable in his sable black eyes, “So I was wondering if you would reconsider the FBI academy? It’s only twenty weeks, but Rossi and I can put you forward to do the written exams earlier if you’d like, and then Strauss can have you assigned a trainee position at the BAU-” 

“Anything,” She nodded, “Anything you need, I’ll do it,” and he hugged her for once. Maybe it was the way she had said it so willingly, no matter her own reservations about joining the academy, no matter her stubbornness and resistance to her sisters pestering, or even the fact they all talked weekly about how much easier their job would be if she was there. Her and Reid’s brains together were a force to be reckoned with. 

And he knew, the surprisingly kind girl that clutched at him back, would keep his team together, would be the glue to keep their heads on while he took some time to watch his son. 

“Thankyou,” He murmured into her hair, and she forced herself not to get weepy at the grief in his voice. Of all people here, she was the last person who should be allowed to cry. Least of all to him. 

He pulled away from her eventually, cursing himself for letting the front slip, but it was as if she had that effect on everyone on the team, like she had this little way of worming her way between that gap in their chests where their hearts once were before they’d seen the things they had, dealt with the people they had. 

It was for that reason Aaron knew they would be just fine. 

“You know, when I was a kid, mom got letters every day from people with their own agendas against her,” Bugsy said once they’d taken a gulp of cool night air, “They all said the same thing; that they were going to take me for ransom unless she left the country. She didn’t think much of it until a guy started following the car home from school and she decided to get me trained in self defence,” 

Hotch frowned, his chest tightening. He knew how it felt to be a parent on edge for his kid’s safety, but to hear it from the other side cut deeper. 

“Which was fine, I got a pretty mean shot if I say so myself, but eventually it progressed into hostage training, in case…” She swallowed dryly, clearing her throat and picking her nails, “I wet the bed the first time they grabbed me, the whole idea was that I wouldn’t know it was coming. They let me go pretty fast, I don’t think they’d expected the eleven year old to reach for the kitchen knife,” 

Hotch scoffed, shaking his head in horror, though he didn’t doubt her for a second. 

“I slept with it next to my bed for a year, so that next time they came for me, they would think twice and let me sleep in,” She said with a thoughtful smile.

“And did it work?” He asked, watching her run her hands along the stone wall beneath his  elbow. 

“I dunno, but the one guy left pretty quick when I almost took his eye out,” She giggled, and the sound made him laugh quietly as well, “My point is, you’ve got nothing to worry about with Jack. Kids like us, we get made tougher, resilient. And with parents like you two, I’d say he had a pretty good head start.” Bugs said, smiling to herself flicking a glance up to his face that said just how touched he was. Deciding he was likely waiting for her to turn around before he let himself cry, she took a step back, heading towards the reception. “I mean look at me, I turned out alright!” 

She barely heard his small chuckle that faded into a weep before she shut the door behind her, heading back over to the table where the team sat, Jack now with his auntie Jessica, and their eyes fell on her, waiting to hear whatever it was she had to say. 

Taking a deep breath, she gave them an awkward smile, “Guess I’m joining the academy afterall,” 

And that was all she got out before Garcia dived on her with an excited cuddle. 

4. The one with his new hair

He knew he was sweeping his fingers through his hair much more often than usual, his hazel eyes flickering to his reflection in car doors in a way that was almost obsessive. He liked what his barber had done, but that wasn’t the point. 

He was hoping she liked it. 

Bugsy had passed the academy with flying colours, not that anyone had ever doubted her, and had been part of the team for all of two weeks, though he would argue she was BAU way before that. Hotch had figured out a staggered schedule where he could take care of Jack four days a week and work the rest until Jack settled back in at school. 

It had been nearly five months since Haley had died, but it hadn’t gotten any easier for the boy. 

Spencer definitely, definitely hadn’t spent the last two weeks practically breathing down her neck whenever they went out into the field, nor had he definitely not found himself fighting off the grin that threatened his composure when he caught her scribbling notes down to herself whilst Penelope presented the cases. 

And he most definitely hadn’t gone out to get a new hair cut in the hopes she would find him more attractive. 

Definitely not.

And yet, her face was the first one he found himself looking at as he stepped into the office, watching as it trailed up from her notebook, her pink gel pen paused mid sentence as the rest of the team went silent, her face spitting into a grin the minute she saw him. 

“What, did you join a boyband?” Hotch asked in a rare moment of teasing, Derek snickering as Emily nudged his arm with her own chuckle. 

“Can I be your groupie?” Bugsy asked, which made them laugh harder, though she stared at him with a small twinkle in her eye the way she always did when he squirmed under her compliments. 

He hadn’t thought she was being mean, not even when they took a moment to settle down, not even when she smiled wryly at him, her eyes flicking up to his hair twice more before her attention was stolen back by Garcia switching the board. 

“Okay, so what are we looking at here? Late twenties, early thirties?” Emily asked after they quietened, adjusting her bangs over her brows. 

“All single, though two are in committed relationships,” Rossi added, flicking through his own pack of notes. “All living on their own,” 

“Looks like normal suburban houses. Give the Unsub privacy,” Morgan added, his face scrunched in disgust as he looked at the crime scene photos. 

“The differences are more striking than the similarities. Different hair colours, different body shapes.” Reid noted, Bugsy’s handwriting scrawling over her notebook as she tried to capture everything they were saying. 

“What do we know about his MO?” Hotch asked JJ, the blonde woman shaking her head with a grimace. 

“That’s why we were invited in, the abduction sites are pristine,” She said gravely, looking between her team as they seemed to balk at the information. 

“No DNA besides the victims, and there’s no sign of forced entry or struggle,” Bugsy noted in the pack Garcia had given her that morning, along with a little pat to the head for good luck. Before now, in those two weeks, they had only dealt with one kidnapping and one group homicide that had turned out to be one very stupid teen spiking drinks at a pool party. This case would be the worst one she’d seen yet. 

“And the victims aren’t reported until two or three days after they’re abducted,” Emily tailed off the end of her sister, her eyes serious as the team came to the same conclusion. 

He had days to spend as much time with the bodies as he wanted. 

“Two or three days? Women like this don’t just disappear without somebody noticing,” Rossi chimed in again, as JJ clicked onto the next screen handing the remote to Garcia. 

“Yes, which is why I had Garcia dig into their lives a little,” She said, taking a seat next to Hotch to let penelope lead. 

“And I took a look at their online activity, I could easily see what the Unsub was doing,” Penelope said, clicking onto a screen full of the women’s profiles. 

Bugsy couldn’t even say she was shocked. Ever since she was in highschool, friendships, or her lack thereof, had been entirely decided on who had the most likes on their status update. Apparently no one found the girl who read Russian Literature for fun cool, nor did they want anything to do with her. Emily didn’t know she’d sat in the school toilets to eat her lunch for three years straight. Turns out kids from every country were bitches. 

“Social Media profiles?” Her older sister asked, though the surprise was evident on her face atleast. 

“Yeah, facebook, twitter, you name an online life-sharing time suck, these victims were on it,” Penelope said, enlarging the screen for the team to see the specifics, “And if you look at each of their last posts, they say kind of the same thing, ‘Going out of town, Going on a business trip, Going on vacation,’ but when you look at the time and date stamps on each of these, queue the twilight zone music because they were all posted the morning after each of them went missing,”

“The unsub posted them?” Hotch concluded, his natural frown deepening. This Unsub had a way to keep all of his victims hidden for much longer than they’d anticipated. Who knows what he could be doing as they spoke. 

“You know, social networks are an easy way for an unsub to target his victims. These women were especially open, they posted everything from what they had for dinner to where they were going on dates,” Spencer said, looking at the print outs Pen had handed to them. 

“The unsub ‘Friends’ his victim, and then uses it as a cover once he takes them,” Derek said, as Bugsy’s face scrunched in disagreement. 

“What are you thinking, Kiddo?” Rossi asked from her left, as he head shot up to see the team watching her, waiting for her input. 

Surprising to everyone, she was somewhat nervous when she’d started at the BAU. The Bugsy Prentiss, the woman who had caught out parts of the Russian Mob when she was just a college student, was nervous to not mess up in front of them. 

“I understand what Derek’s saying, but nowadays you don’t actually have to be friends with someone to follow them.” She said, picking her fingertips in thought, “A lot of people have hundreds of total strangers they’ve never met on their page; some settings mean you don’t even need to be ‘friends’ in the first place to see what they're posting. The UnSub probably wouldn’t even bother implicating himself in the first place by following them, he could just access their profile and see what they're up to. I think he profiles as patient and organised, and somewhat tech savvy if he’s up to date on the way these medias work,” 

The team watched her carefully, Spencer beating down the proud smile he wanted to flash her, knowing he needed to be focused on this case, but she seemed satisfied with her answer when Penelope nodded in agreement.

“So you don’t think he’s an old guy like me, is what you’re saying?” Derek asked with aghast, knowing full well mid thirties wasn’t too old. Hadn’t stopped his pride hurting. 

She shook her head, “I just think he wouldn’t be as old as you. Mine and Reid’s age maybe. But he seems obsessive, and he also must have a job that affords him the spare time to spend the following few days with the bodies, but it means we should also assume that these women are likely already dead,”

She looked to Hotch hopefully, to see him staring at her unreadably for a moment, before he looked to Rossi with a nod. 

David slapped her on the shoulder affectionately, “You just put together your first profile, kid,” 

And before long, they were heading for the jet with her deductions in mind to hand over to the cops. 

–

“Can someone explain to me the appeal of these sites? ‘Eating sushi tonight, yum!’ ‘Boss is keeping me late at work, grr,’” Rossi stared at the status updates, perplexed, as the team snickered to themselves. 

“Now, wait a minute. How did you find my profile?” Bugsy asked jokingly, and she drew a fond smile from Aaron her way when Rossi chuckled to himself. 

He wished she would stop looking so nervous to contribute. She fit right in with the furniture. 

“Whose life is so important that we’d be interested in this kind of detail?” Rossi asked seriously, though Bugsy supposed even the coffee machine was a new useless piece of technology to the man who liked his espresso fresh. 

“That’s just it, no one is. I guess everyone just wanted to believe it to themselves that they all have an audience out there waiting to hear every update of their day. Some of them even have GPS tracking systems in place to make it even easier for people to find out exactly where you are,” Bugsy said, her eyes flicking to Spencer who watched her intently, automatically floating up to take in his new hair again. 

She couldn’t help think he had stopped looking cute, and started looking hot. He’d always been cute, god knows she’d always thought he was good looking. But now he looked… dreamy. It had made her double take the minute he’d walked through the door, hoping it wasn’t too obvious she was staring. 

“That explains how he’s finding them, but it doesn’t tell us how he’s getting into their houses,” Hotch nodded along with her, eying her carefully as she looked through her own notes she’d made once she’d brought herself round to ripping her eyes off Reid. 

“At the very least I believe he has copies of their keys,” Spencer said, his finger trailing the information in his file, “Doris Archer had a home security system installed, but the disable code was entered at 1:56am, so he knew that too. He also found a way to deal with her dog, a German Shepard she adopted from the pound last year, it went missing the night she did,” 

“Did they find the dog?” Bugsy asked, her face in a frown as Emily looked up to her.

“Why? What are you thinking?” She asked her little sister who played with the ‘TRAINEE’ lanyard around her neck. 

“If he hurt the dog, it likely meant the dog had been on alert to him as an intruder, since opportunistic violence isn’t in his profile of being collected and organised. So if he didn’t hurt the dog, and he was found alive and unharmed, it means the dog knew him,” Bugsy explained, and Derek stroked his face in thought. 

“This guy’s gotta be in and out of the house well before the night of the disappearance. He comes up with some ruse, talks his way inside, and then once he’s familiar enough with the house he knows he can come back and kidnap them without disturbing anything,” He said, the girl nodding in agreement with him.

“Think of people you let into your home you don’t consider a threat. Home repair guys, dog walkers?” Rossi offered, but JJ was quick to flick to her own pack. 

“Detective Fordham looked into that too. No one came even close to being a killer,” She shut down, not wanting to waste their time running through avenues that had already been explored. 

“Alright,” Hotch started as he glanced at his watch to see they were landing in around ten minutes, “Morgan and Prentiss, start with the last abduction site, see if anything points to his MO.” 

Bugsy raised her hand politely, as if she were still in class, and he nodded in her direction to speak, “Do you mean as in me when you say Prentiss or as in Emily when you say Prentiss?” She asked, and Emily seemed to be having the same issue as she flicked a glance between the two of them.

“I mean Emily, for you I guess I’ll have to say-” But he stopped himself with a frown. What would he say? Bugsy? No, too informal on a case. Baby Prentiss? Absolutely not. He thinks she might just hit him if he said her first name too much. “We’ll workshop it for now. Dave, you, Prentiss, Reid and JJ go back over the women’s lives. Start with asking around their friends on the sites. If this is how the Unsub is finding them, maybe they’re connected to him without even realising.” 

The team was quiet for a moment, before Spencer pointed to Bugsy with his pen, “So that time you meant Bug, right?”

Dave wished he could protest but he had also been a bit confused, as Hotch rubbed his head tenderly. 

He felt the headache coming already. 

–

“What was it about these women that made him choose them as targets?” Bugsy asked as she and Spencer sat in a small room in the Boise precinct, the three victims' profile pictures staring back at them from the board. 

It was their second day working on the case, and other than Garcia tracking a very disturbing snuff film of the last murder being streamed from the victim’s own IP address using camera’s he’d set up in the home, they had yet to have a big breakthrough. Hotch had told her to leave the room when they’d shown the footage, knowing it was one of her first weeks on the case, and despite having a strong stomach, he wanted her to ease into the role rather than drop her in the deep end head first. 

Even seasoned agents like Morgan and Rossi had both winced, JJ even gagging as they watched it happen. They usually dealt with the aftermath, not have front row seats on the act itself. 

She had been allowed in once the tape had finished, but Reid had immediately shuffled her into the small office they’d been permitted to use by the Boise police, his face a little more peaky than usual.

She wished he wouldn’t worry so much about her, wished he would hide it better when he fretted over her. She was sure he would burst a vessel if he kept flicking his head to look at her, though she just sat staring at the women as if the answer would jump out at her. 

“They’re all pretty, aren’t they?” Bugsy said, swinging her legs beneath the table, her eyes roving over the three faces, “Though unconventionally, they’re still pretty.”

They weren’t his type, Spencer thought, they looked almost nothing like her. She had removed the last of the pink hair dye she’d managed to keep on top of for a year or so before she’d started at the university. Her nose piercing had progressed to a little thin silver hoop, though her earrings had been dialled down for safety reasons in the field, and she kept her hair tied back away from her face most days. She looked older, which was a dumb thing to think, since of course she was older. But she had grown into her face, and Spencer was entirely convinced she took after her father since the only thing she shared with Emily was the same pout when she thought too hard. 

He’d watched her grow for all of three years into the twenty five year old that sat before him, and yet her face had never really changed shape. She still had those pretty eyes that seemed to glint up at him, those soft lips that pursed when she tried not to giggle at him, that perfect nose he would trace the edge of using just his gaze when she had come over to his apartment to study for the academy. She was still as beautiful as the day he’d met her, he thinks part of him had always thought of her in that way. He had just put it down to a pretty girl giving him attention. But girls gave him attention all the time, he had realised since that stakeout at the club, when he’d given her those napkin roses. He just didn’t care for them. 

He only cared about what she thought of him. 

Only cared what her face looked like-

“Wait,” He stopped his thoughts that could go on for days, weeks, about her. They already had, it was difficult to pull himself out of it sometimes. He stared at the photos of the victims, his mind revelling in her own face that he didn’t doubt had guys swooning and falling over their own feet, as he zeroed in on their eyes, cheekbones, septums, “Their faces are all an identical structure,” 

“How did you figure that out?” She asked, wide eyed and he ripped down the photos before she could catch him blushing. 

He thought he might take it to the grave what he’d been thinking about. 

–

“He’s going live,” Hotch seethed, clicking a button on the remote and the whiteboard in the centre of the room lit up with video footage, a small red dot flashing slowly in the corner telling them they were watching it being streamed. 

Bugsy stood behind Spencer, her eyes glued to the small computer at the desk that played the same screen, her heart rate spiking when she saw a small body camera pointing at a house, the UnSub cutting across a lawn in a near sprint. 

He’d lost control completely, and he had another victim set in his sights. 

“He’s not slow, deliberate. This guy’s pissed.” Rossi said, his jaw hung open in horror as the streamer headed straight for the front door. 

“All right, what do we see? Determining markers?” Hotch snapped the groups focus back from the gut wrenching panic that everyone felt, and it was like a switch flipped.

“A one story cottage,” Spencer noted, his eyes glued to the screen so tight he missed the way Bugsy’s face changed colour, and she looked like she was swaying on her feet. 

“That could be anywhere,” Detective Fordham commented back, his face grimacing. 

“Is there a number on the house?” Morgan asked, and everyone leaned in closer to the footage. 

“No, he’s already at the door,” JJ said, running a hand through her long blonde hair. 

Bugsy thought she might be sick. 

“Garcia,” 

“He’s using twice as many proxy servers,” Her shaky voice came through the speaker, furious typing in the background.

“Wait, this window in the background, is that the chat room?” Emily asked, pointing to the small screen at the bottom that flooded with comments from at least forty different users, and more began entering the stream. 

Get that bitch. 

Show her a good time. 

Teach the pigs a lesson for sticking their nose in. 

Bugsy wished she hadn’t been so fast at reading, as she felt her skin go cold at the sight of the comments. 

“People are getting off on it,” She said quietly, but no one heard her, too focused on finding out where the UnSub was. 

“Uh Huh,” Garcia confirmed, as the footage flicked to show a kitchen view, a pretty fair haired woman stood chopping peppers none the wiser to the sick people watching her life before it was about to be ended. 

“He’s in the house, guys,” Reid ran clammy hands over his trousers, his stomach churning as the video went on.

“He’s completely changed his MO,” Derek added, and the team could do nothing but watch in terror, “There’s too much light, what happened?”

“Someone asked the wrong question at the press conference,” JJ explained from beside Reid, her nails bitten to hell. 

“Oh my god, turn around. Just turn around,” Emily begged, and part of her little sister thought she might have been talking about her. 

“Maybe she can fend him off,” Derek said, though even his tone of voice wasn’t convinced. 

“New kitchen appliances, maybe we could check the work order?” Spencer was grasping at straws he knew that, but he couldn’t sit back with that big brain of his working overtime and not try to help at all.

“He’ll be gone by then,” Rossi said, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Garcia, can you give me anything?” Hotch asked, and the sound of typing got even faster if that was possible.

“I’m stateside now, I’m almost to Idaho, I just need more time,” but Garcia was cut of by the man in the video lurching at the innocent woman, his hands wrapping around her neck with a venomous grip, her every moment of pain and terror captured on his body cam for his audience to see. 

His audience including the team. 

Bug felt the bile rise then, felt her eyes burn as she watched the woman’s face freeze in fear, a yelp of “No!” leaving her oesophagus, her small hands coming up to his wrists to try pry him away from her, anything to gasp for another breath of air. 

She wasn’t listening as Hotch barked orders at Garcia, her eyes were stuck on the woman that writhed in pain, pleading with the masked man to spare her. But her rebuttals got weaker, her whimpers began to grow quieter, and soon he’d tackled her to the ground in a blood curdling scream, his whole body weight crushing her throat. 

Her own hand came up to cover her mouth that dropped open in shock, her eyes burning with tears that she couldn't let fall. It was this woman who was suffering, not her. 

There was a bit more struggling from the woman, her eyes bulging from her skull, lips turning blue, until she slumped beneath his hands, and he released her. 

She took a step back, bumping into a chair she hadn’t even known was there as her eyes fixed to the screen, and Spencer’s head shot around to see her shaking on the spot, her eyes haunted. 

Emily followed suit, but Spencer was already out of his seat, rushing forward to grab her arms and lead her outside. 

“I’m gonna get her some air,” He called behind him to the team that watched her go with forlorn glances, and he hated how he felt her trembling beneath his grip, grabbing onto his jacket just as tight. 

They made it halfway down the stairs before she bolted for the bathroom, and he heard her retching as he dipped into the room after her, not caring that the sign clearly stated it was for women. 

“I’m fine, Em, just give me a minute,” She said, and he heard the sniffles between her words. 

“It’s me,” He said, finding the one stall on the end that had it’s door engaged, pulling a cup from out of the dispenser and filling it at the water fountain, “You should drink some water, the cold helps reset your body’s instinct to fight or flight,” 

“Or in my case, make a complete fool of myself and take time away from a time sensitive investigation because I’m such a wuss,” She said cynically, coughing chestily and he heard the toilet flush. 

His forehead creased as he frowned. The door unlocked and she stepped out, her eyes red and teary as she gently took the water from his hands, and he rooted around his pocket for a stick of gum to give her. She chucked it in her mouth, letting the peppermint clear the vile taste from her mouth, hoping she didn’t look too gross. 

“You shouldn’t stand so close to me, toilet bowls are like full of germs and my heads just been in there, I know it makes you feel funny to be around germs-” He pushed her hair behind her ear as if to tell her to stop thinking so loud, and she couldn’t help smile sheepishly at him. “Do you think Hotch will be mad?” 

He shook his head instantly. 

“Mad? No. Worried? Incredibly.” Spencer replied, stroking her hair a little the way his mom used to when he felt sick. 

Bugsy shook her head, sniffing to herself a little more. 

She couldn’t stop seeing that woman’s face as the life slipped from her, the hands around her neck. The yelps and pleads and begs and she fought with everything in her.

“How long was it until you started feeling like this?” She asked earnestly, running a sleeve under her nose, “You’re so brave, I always knew you were but, since I started, it’s like I realised nothing really touches any of you anymore.”

He fought the incredulous laugh, him; brave? The man scared of the dark and elevators brave? 

“We all take things home with us at the end of the day,” He said, wiping under her eyes for her with his own cardigan cuff, “If you didn’t feel anything for the victims we help, you wouldn’t be human, Bug,”

She nodded, “I know. I just don’t want to let anyone down. Not you guys and especially not the people we’re helping,” 

“It’s for that reason I know you’re going to do great,” He said, giving her one of those small Spencer smiles he reserved for when he wanted to see one of hers. 

Her forehead thumped onto his chest as he pulled her a little closer, and his cheek fell on top of her hair as he ran gentle hands over the sides of her arms, calming her until her breath started evening out. 

“You never said,” She pointed out, “How long it took for you to start getting cold feet. Bet I beat some kind of record, two weeks is absolute dog shit,” She chuckled to herself, not noticing how his face evened out in sadness. 

It was Tobias Hankel that had done it. It was getting tied up and injected that had made him feel like a failure, like he wasn’t cut out for anything let alone the force. Like his life was taking a huge spiral downwards. 

But he wouldn’t tell her that, not yet at least. 

“Come on, let’s get you back,” He brushed off, and she figured it was a sore spot for him. She cursed herself for asking in the first place. 

Nodding, she downed the rest of the water and got herself a refill, following him out of the bathroom, looking back up at him for a moment.

“I forgot to say,” Bug said, nudging against his side with her whole body, knocking into him lovingly, “Your new hair is very… dashing. I really like it.”

He swore his face went crimson in a single second.

5. The one with his migraines

“Let me pay for your fuel at least,”

“Spence, just shut up and get in the car,”

That was around about how the past eight months had gone. Every day, she would drive by his apartment, Emily in the passenger seat of her little sisters beat up Renault Zoe, affectionately named after its model, the back seat reserved for Spencer’s lanky legs and satchel bag as she drove the three of them through through roads of Virginia, to work and back again. 

Sometimes he surprised her with coffee, sometimes Emily brought them donuts.  Either way, they all enjoyed their morning routine that had stood the test of time about as much as Bugsy had as part of the BAU. 

It had gotten easier after that first case; she still had her moments, but her skin had thickened to a point she barely remembered what her life had been like before that day Hotch asked her to join the academy. 

Things were going well, she felt settled, even with the new girl Seaver replacing JJ while Jareau was away on business in the pentagon. She couldn’t say she was the girl’s best friend, but they got along. And that was good enough for her. Her team was a well oiled machine. 

That was, except for Spencer. Spencer she worried for every day. 

She hated the way he twitched in the passenger seat, now his since she’d forced Emily to get the subway to work today, bitching eachother out in the way sisters did until the older woman left in a huff but without asking questions, and she left to take Spencer to the hospital. 

The sunglasses did little to stop his eyes hurting, his brain quite literally feeling as though it was pressing against his skull. He even turned down coffee this morning, and her stomach had dropped when she realised just how serious it was. 

He didn’t even question her when she held his hand tightly in hers as she walked him into the office, knowing he would hate every second of having this MRI done. 

“Everything’s going to be absolutely fine, they’re going to find what it is and we’re going to get you fixed right up to your perky self again,” She said, as they sat together outside the doctor’s office, keeping her voice calm and quiet as not to upset his delicate head even more. 

He nodded, appreciating her gentle touches on his hand, and he jumped in his seat when the door opened, his name being called through and he wished she could come with him. 

“You got this,” Bugsy smiled at him reassuringly when he looked hesitant, and nodded again, squeezing her hand once before he let go, following the nurse into the MRI room, wondering how he got so lucky to have a best friend like her. 

–

Spencer sighed, leaning back in his seat. The flight had not helped the building pressure in his head in the slightest. He looked up to the ceiling, closing his eyes as the harsh office lights beat against his face mercilessly. 

Two bodies found sacrificed to a 'higher being', their tongues and fingers cut off, shells put over their eyes and mouths. They had seen worse, perhaps not as odd, but they had seen worse. And yet this was the case that made him feel like his brain was about to explode right out his ears.

He hadn’t felt like this since he had been on Dilaudid, since he’d be on a come down and his whole body would sweat cold, and his head would rattle with every movement. And even that almost paled in comparison to how bad his head hurt right now. 

Spencer had wondered if that was what had done this to him, if it was a long term side effect of its use. He knew it wouldn’t be, but the self punishing part of him couldn’t help but fill his head with it. 

He just wanted answers. He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to crawl into bed with an ice pack over his face and never surface again until this thing had subsided. 

Spencer felt hands in his hairline, fingernails weaving and massaging until he almost moaned, the touches releasing some of the metaphorical knots like magic at their fingertips, and he knew who it was, because that was how she always made him feel. 

He opened his eyes to see her very upside down as she looked down at him, their eyes inline with one another as she continued running her fingers against his temples gently. 

“You okay, handsome?” That was somewhat new, not that he was complaining. Part of him said she just felt bad for him and his weird brain, and maybe that was how it had always been, but ever since he had started getting these migraines she was impossibly even softer with him now. Like she was his comfort blanket he cuddled to when he was feeling particularly sorry for himself, and she knew it too. They were rarely not stuck together like velcro, where he moved, she moved. Where he sat, she was pressed against him like the concept of personal space had never been such a huge deal for him. 

And when his pain struck him down into the embodiment of a wounded doe, she was right there fluffing his pillows, grabbing him aspirin, massaging his head like she could grab the bastard migraine right out of his skull and say leave my precious boy alone. 

She was too sweet on him recently, but then he never wanted it to stop. It felt like a relationship without the kissing and especially without the sex. The thought of it made him want to moan again. 

“This one’s a stubborn one,” It had lingered around for three days straight, and the Miami heat wasn’t helping as he looked up at her inverted face, and he could tell she was smiling gently at him. 

She ran her thumbs over his eyebrows, smoothing them out and he sighed in delight as he felt the muscle begin to relax beneath her touch. 

“You make things better,” He confessed, her fingers tracing down his pretty nose, and he closed his eyes as she went over the bags beneath them. “You always do,” 

He felt her kiss his forehead for good luck, and he knew she hated seeing him in so much pain. He could have whined when she pulled away, letting go of him gently as Rossi stepped into the room, hoping he hadn’t seen the affection before too much teasing could come. 

But he said nothing, even if he had seen, just raised his eyebrows and grabbed the file off the desk for his own thorough look through. 

He sure as hell missed the way she interlaced their fingers under the desk though. 

–

Spencer twisted the bracelet around his wrist as they sat together outside the doctor's office. Orula’s ide. That was what Julio had called it. Said it would protect him from the bad spirits that clouded his head. 

Spencer was a man of science, a man of logic. But even he couldn’t quite explain how Julio had managed to figure out he was having migraines despite him not letting any infliction of pain cross his face, even more confused when Julio had said his body had been a conduit for a higher spirit who wanted to help him. 

He was glad to be back in Virginia where everything made sense to him. Where she could hold onto his knee at the doctor's office to stop it from bouncing and his team couldn’t tease or ask him what was wrong or make her stop touching him so much. 

“I say we get some ice on your head and put on whichever Doctor Who episode you want, don’t even care if we’ve seen it before,” She offered, smiling over at him and hoping he couldn’t see the worry in her eyes. 

He could. He just nudged her shoulder with his forehead to say thankyou without ruining the solace the quiet brought him. 

That is until his name was called, just as it was the last time he was here, and he stood to enter the office, not letting go of her hand as this time he’d made sure she could come. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” He said as he sat on the bed, his doctor showing him the clear brain scans that hadn’t flagged a single neuron out of place. 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” His doctor replied, watching the way his female accomplice frowned, squeezing his hand tightly. 

“Isn't there any tests that would look for a specific prognosis we could try?” She asked, and the man shook his head. 

“Not unless we’ve ruled out every other option, and in this case I’d like to suggest that Dr. Reid’s condition might be psychosomatic in nature,” The doctor explained, wary of the way the two agents screwed their expressions up, almost identically, hearing his explanation of Spencer’s headaches. 

“Psychosomatic…” Spencer echoed softly, in near disbelief. 

That couldn’t be it. It had to be the Dilauded. Or a tumour. Or a long standing concussion. Something physical and tangible he could point out and get fixed.  

“It just means a mental or emotional cause-” The doctor explained, only to have Spencer cut him off. 

“No I know what ‘psychosomatic’ means Doctor, but it's not that,” He said, his voice tired; the idea he was making up his problem in his own head bothered him. 

“Well, I think it’s something we should consider.”

“Listen, I’m not crazy,” Spencer insisted, and he felt her tugging his hand closer to hers, her own way of comforting him when she couldn’t grab at his hair or face or jaw. 

“Dr Reid, I’m not saying-” But he was stopped by Spencer’s voice that was slowly growing more irate. 

“No, listen, I have headaches. I have increased sensitivity to light, because there’s something wrong with me physically. Not mentally. It’s not that,” He corrected the doctor, his sweet face pulled into a grumpy pout, almost offended that the professional was willing to write his pain off as a hallucinations. 

“That?” The doctor asked, a frown on his face as Spencer continued.

“Listen, doctor, my mother’s a paranoid schizophrenic who’s been institutionalised. So I know very well what mental illness looks like, maybe even better than you. It’s not that, it’s not.” Spencer said in a huff, standing from the bed and grabbing his satchel, all but pulling her from the room as she sped walked after him, her hand still tightly in his. 

She was gobsmacked. She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before, and suddenly every single instance of her whining about her mother to him entered her head and she felt a pit growing in her stomach that only had room for guilt. 

They sat in the car in silence, her hands at ten and two as she tried not to stare at him. 

She couldn’t stand the quiet in which he stewed, murmuring to himself every now and then about how that most certainly wasn’t what was causing his state to decline. 

“You never told me that before,” She said after a while, and it was quiet, whether to satiate his headache or because she didn’t know if she was allowed to say it he wasn’t sure. 

“It never came up,” He said in a way that left little question. He didn’t want to talk about it. 

They sat in the quiet some more, the only sound being the way her engine hummed beneath the bonnet, the music turned low for his pounding head, and he saw the way she chewed her lip and flicked glances at him from the driver's side.

He sighed, not wanting to snap at her the way he had the doctor, “Bug, would you please stop looking at me like that, like you pity me-”

“No, it’s not that it's…” She started carefully, her gaze flicking ot him for a moment as they stopped at a red light, “Every time I forget you’re the strongest person I know, you just seem to remind me,” 

And just like that his heart swelled all over again, and he felt like maybe his head wasn't an entire failure to him.

+1 The one with the eulogy.

This was hell on earth. 

She sat around the table at the funeral home with her mother to her left, her father and Stephanie to her right. 

She could feel the team’s eyes on her; she hadn’t spoken in days, her face shallow and off colour, sick looking. Speaking to her mother and father was difficult for her on a good day, let alone when she was all alone. 

Because that was how she looked, as if she were half a person now, her face bitter and angry as she tried to take up the least amount of space at the table as possible, her mother inspecting her finger beds as if they’d scorned her. 

“Sit up straight,” She chided, nudging her daughter's knee, but Bugsy made no move to adjust her posture. She just stared blankly at the ugly floral tablecloth, waiting for the other mourners to arrive, to give their sorrows, before they could move to the church. 

Emily was right next door. Cold. In a box. Her entire body was likely in rigour mortis now, her face was probably white as snow with the blood pooling away - pallor mortis Reid had called it - her hands were probably twisted and ugly like a raven's foot-

She couldn’t keep doing this to herself. And yet the thoughts wouldn’t stop, not even as Stephanie, step mother from heaven as she was, began to chime in to try lighten the mood. 

Her dad hadn’t said a word to her yet, just patted her on the head the way he hadn’t done since she was five. 

“It’s a lovely day for a funeral, don’t you think?” She commented, but her voice was too sweet, too soft, too normal to have the charm she’d intended. 

Stephanie wasn’t a bad person. Not evil or horrible like Bugsy had always thought a step mother would be. But she was the person her father had left little Bugsy for, and though she knew almost all of her anger had been displaced onto the poor woman when he’d told her he had a new wife, Stephanie had never exactly bothered to remedy their relationship. 

Emily and Bugsy had been someone else’s kids. Had been Richard Prentiss’ problems, not hers. And no amount of kindness she bothered to overcompensate with today would change the past twenty years her father had been too preoccupied to even call for her birthdays. 

Bugsy scoffed, ignoring the warning look from her father. He knew very well how his youngest felt about his wife. 

“Mr and Mrs Prentiss,” Hotch came over, as if sensing the girl’s annoyance at the woman’s words, and she mentally could have planted a kiss right on Aaron’s lips when he made the effort to exclude Stephanie in his condolences, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing a child is a devastation I never would wish on anyone,” 

“Thank you for your kind words, Mr Hotchner,” The step mother piped up again, before either of them could say anything, and Bugsy shot her a look so full of hatred, Aaron thought she might have slapped her right then and there. 

Richard cleared his throat, moving to put an arm around Steph’s chair, one that she’d pulled up to the table herself. 

If there was one thing Elizabeth and Bugsy would ever agree on it was that Stephanie was intolerable. 

Her mother looked empty as she nodded at Hotch, crossing her legs properly and pursing her lip, not saying anything. She’d never seen her mother cry, and she doubted that would start today. Elizabeth was much too of a proud woman to weep in front of the masses. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” Bugsy said the first words she had in days, the only time she’d gotten out of bed was to feel Niko and Sergio or to use the bathroom. Her voice was raspy, ghost like, and it scared the crap out of him. 

He couldn’t see her getting through this alive. 

With Haley, he’d had Jack to get him through it, keep him going, if not to put on a front for his little boy that was the spitting image of his wife. But Bug had nothing left of her sister, nothing but herself and two parents that couldn’t stand to look at one another without screaming curses. 

The other’s had already given their condolences, had already bombarded her with enough letters, flowers, stuffed teddies to fill a house, and she knew she wasn’t being fair ignoring them when they were grieving too. If not just as much as she was. 

But she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t be anything except this shell of a woman once called Bugsy. Her sister gave her that name, she didn’t think she deserved it anymore. 

Spencer just wished she would cry. He had been sobbing non stop, even where his eyes were puffy and red as Garcia’s as they stood in the funeral home, the smell of incense too strong, the sounds of wails too loud. But she looked… he hated to say it, she looked dead.

“That poor little lamb,” Penelope sniffled, tears already streaking down her cheeks as Derek tucked her under his arm, pulling her close into his smart black suit, “I wished she would let us in,”

“That girl is a carbon copy of Emily, of course she’s going to take herself off to lick her wounds,” Rossi said, his own fancy blazer stuffed with tissues in case his dark eyes welled up with tears again. He’d already managed to save himself once this morning before leaving the house, but he didn’t trust himself anymore than that. 

Spencer missed her smile more than anything, though he himself was struggling to muster anything past a grimace. 

“The Spring flowers are all in bloom, isn’t that lovely?” Stephanie continued, an easy grin on her face as she looked out of the window to the graveyard, as if she was entirely unaware of the grief lingering in the room, “I think she'll like it here,”

That was it. 

That was what pushed Bugsy over the edge, even Elizabeth broke her cold facade to look at the other women in shock, her daughter’s eye twitching as her head snapped to Stephanie, a rage encompassing her entire face.

“What the fuck would you know what she liked or didn’t like, Stephanie? She barely even fucking liked you,”  Bugsy hissed, drawing the attention of a few of the mourners with her vitriol anger. 

That wiped the smile off the woman’s face harder than any slap could have. 

“You watch your mouth, young lady,” Richard snapped, his face a blazen rage as Stephanie cowered behind him. 

Bugsy scoffed, and Hotch knew by the sound of it alone, something had been lit inside her that was about to go off like a hand grenade. 

He couldn’t say he blamed her. 

“I don’t know why you even bothered showing up, Dad. You’ve not seen either one of us since Emily left college,” She spat back, her eyes wild like a cat ready to claw its way out of a fight, “Surprised you even remember my name now you have your shiny new family and your million honeymoons to keep you busy,”

Richard stood from his chair, his black three piece creasing as he pointed in her face, his hand shaking with rage, and she saw the tears well in his eyes that looked too much like her own for her comfort. 

“You are turning out to be just like your mother, pushing away anyone who ever cared about you.” He barked, not caring that a few mourners turned to look at him in shock, “Don’t come crying back to me when you end up alone, little lady,” 

And with that he took Stephanie’s hand, who was the patron saint of guilt as of now, a face like a scolded child, too naive for the grown woman she really as. At least she had finally shut up, Bugsy thought darkly as her father stormed out of the home, ignoring the way faces watched hers carefully, knowing every word he’d said had been true. 

She thinks for a minute if Emily was here she’d poke fun at the way Steph’s face had been hilarious when her smile had dropped, or that her dad still had the worst temper out of them all, Bug included. She thinks that if Emily were here, she’d tell her he’d said all that stuff out of anger, and that she won’t end up alone, and that she’d always be with her.

She thinks that if Emily were here, she wouldn’t feel the empty nothingness where shame and sadness would be after having that entire thing play out infront of so many onlookers. 

But Emily wasn’t there. And she couldn’t even say she was shocked when her mother stood from her seat besides her too. 

“Where are you going?” Bugsy snarled, the Ambassador looking somewhat concerned before the expression fell and she went back to an equally lost look of her own. 

“I refuse to be made a spectacle of today,” Elizabeth said detachedly, collecting her purse over her black midi dress, her painted nails skimming the handle gently, “I can say my own goodbyes to your sister later, when everyone has left,” 

Coward. Coward. Coward. Bugsy wanted to scream after her, wanted to tear her hair out, wanted to grab the two of them by the neck and make them feel the way her words trapped inside her and clawed at her throat, sitting inside like a moth bouncing against a window trying to escape. 

But she said nothing. Did nothing, as her mother left the home, left her sitting there alone, until the officiant came over to her not even a moment’s later and told her it was time to start the funeral. 

And then she truly felt as if she would never be whole again. 

–

Her hands shook as she got to the podium. She’d always hated public speaking, which Spencer thought was odd since she seemed to grab the attention of every room she walked into like it was second nature. She didn’t even bat an eyelid at chasing down a criminal or being shot at or evening chewing out a detective that wasn’t pulling his weight, but speaking to a handful of decorated officers that watched her with grieving eyes was too much. 

Adjusting the mic to a more appropriate height, they watched her eyes scan the room, her brows scrunched, her mouth dry. Trying to find Emily, Hotch realised with a crack in his chest. The way she always did when she was nervous. The way she did when she was looking for Emily to come save her. 

“H-hi, um,” Her voice shook, her fingers fiddling with the chord for something to do, “Mom- Ambassador Prentiss got called out on business so I guess I’ll be giving the eulogy,” 

No one spoke, not even the ones who knew it was a lie, her eyes falling to where Spencer gave her a sad smile, some sort of encouragement for her to keep going, though his eyes were red and bloodshot, and he was sure the burn in his throat was rising again. 

She hadn’t cried yet. Penelope had cried four times today alone. 

“I- um, I wasn’t really prepared for a speech, so I’m, um, I’m just going to read the letter I wrote to her if that’s okay?” Her head shot to the priest who had handed the spotlight over to her, the warm spring breeze pulling at his robes as he nodded, his hand gesturing for her to continue. 

She cleared her throat, tearing the envelope open, and the paper rattled in her fingertips with her shaking hands as she pulled out the double sided A4 that had been written on in neat blue ink. 

Unfolding it, she let her gaze rip off the crowd of people who stared at her, waiting for whatever it was she had to say, the final words her sister’s body would hear before she was put in the ground forever. The last goodbye. The only one that had ever mattered. 

“Dear Emily,” Bugsy read, her voice finding footing as she was able to look away from the hundreds of eyes that watched her tearfully. But it was the wrong move. Because the minute she’d prepared herself to say the words out loud she felt her eyes well up. 

This was it. The last chance she would ever get to tell Emily how she felt. How sorry she was. How she was so damn sorry for being such a shitty person for so many years, for never saying thank you enough, for never hugging her when she really ought to have, for never appreciating how lucky she was to have a sister like her. 

Her throat clogged, and she sucked in a deep breath, releasing a trembling sigh. Her bottom lip quivered. 

“Sorry-” She apologised to the watchers, rubbing her mouth nervously, hoping no one could see just how deeply she had broken, just how harsh the wound had gaped open, “Dear Emily,” She started again;

“Everyone thinks they know what a sister is; it's the woman you share fifty percent of your DNA with who you’re put on this earth to annoy the shit out of,” A small wet laugh reverberated around the crowd, and she flashed a small smile at her own words. “But the truth is you can actually share up to sixty-one percent of your genes with one of your siblings. Which is crazy to me, because I know no matter how hard I try, I will never be even one percent of the woman you are,” 

She swallowed heavily, and she heard Penny burst out crying again, her head buried in Morgan’s neck. 

“If I was as gracious as you, I’d probably say you’re in a better place now, and if I was as brave, we probably wouldn’t even be here, because I would have been able to save you that day instead of just watching like a fly on the wall.” The first tear fell then, her face crumpling in pain. “If I was as considerate as you, I would be able to look every one of your friends in the eyes and tell them it would all be okay in the end. And if I was even the tiniest bit as kind as you, then I would have told you all of this to your face when it actually mattered.”

She sniffed heavily, and Derek did the same, his own throat burning, picking the thread on his nice trousers as Penelope’s tears wet his shirt through. 

“Everyone thinks that true love is finding someone you want to marry and have children with, but I know now that’s not the entirety of it. Love is a person you want to spend every day making happy, and make them proud to say they love you too.” Her chin wobbled some more as she read the next few sentences with something darker than remorse in her glassy eyes, “I sometimes think, if we were given a second chance, if we could try again, I would be able to tell you that I truly love you, Emily, and that you’re the only person I ever cared about loving me too,”

Her voice cracked, and she regarded the paper with misty eyes, her cheeks soaked as she quickly wiped them with the back of her white, lace gloves. 

“I think maybe next time I wouldn’t be so spoiled and bratty, and you could have been more relaxed and maybe less like my mom at times, but I think if we could do it over, we could have done it right, the way sisters are supposed to,” She sniffed, missing the way Spencer’s face dripped with tears of his own, her words tearing him inside and out with the guilt in every line. “But I guess it’s too late for that now. I only got one chance to be your sister and I failed, no matter how many times you pulled through for me. And that’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”

She braved a look at the closed casket, imagining her big sister, the only person she ever truly loved laying in there with fair, snow skin, her noir hair sitting perfectly like a princess in the fairytales she used to read to her before bed. Only this one had no happy ending. This one ended with her heart torn from her chest, bleeding for the rest of her days until her own body was buried and everyone could mourn the girl who was barely half the woman her sister was, no matter what the statistics say.

“I’m sorry, Emily” It was the first time she’d said the two words that had been playing in her head on a loop for weeks, the two words that sang to her like a mantra, every morning, noon and evening. Even in her sleep she had dreams where she could do nothing but scream into a void of darkness, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It should have been me, I’m sorry. “I hope you can forgive me,” She whimpered through a sob, ignoring the way her cheeks gushed with fat tears now, as she wept freely at the podium, her hands no longer shaking. 

“Lots of love, your shitty baby sister, Bugsy.” She finished with a small whine, her expression broken as she folded the letter back up and placed it in the envelope, the cursive lettering of her big sister’s name staring back at her. Finishing where she’d started. 

Tucking the letter underneath a tulip wreath atop the coffin, she stepped back down off the podium, ignoring the way the eyes followed her back to her seat, ignoring the way Derek rubbed her shoulder affectionately, or the way JJ handed her a packet of tissues, even though her own face was flooded, and showed no signs of stopping. She felt Spencer grab her hand in his delicately, entwining their fingers together, and squeezing lightly. 

The priest continued with a hymn, though she didn’t bother singing it. She just stared at her shoes, as if her entire soul had been sucked from her the minute she’d ended the eulogy. 

Which it had, because that had been Emily’s last goodbye. 

She didn’t speak in the car on the way back to Spencer’s, not as Hotch pulled her in for a wide hug, rare and warm, even going so far as to stroke the back of her head with more affection than they’d ever seen him give her. 

“Call me if you need anything,” He’d murmured into the side of her head as he held her close, feeling two hands hesitantly wrap around his waist, as if she wasn’t entirely switched on which, going by the vacant look on her face she wasn’t. 

Spencer made her tea the moment they got in. She didn’t ask for it, she just sat on the sofa and stared at the beat up, old TV he kept only for the occasional documentary, and for the shows she liked to watch too of course. But she hadn’t even switched it on, just stared at the inky black glass like it would jump to life itself and tell her how to feel. 

He took a seat next to her, on the other end of the couch, flicking the screen on for something to stop it from being so silent in his home; the silence meant they were alone with their thoughts, and for once he and his thoughts couldn’t stand being together. He didn’t want to interrupt her, or be the first to break the quiet. Not even when he watched her tea go cold in front of her, or as she barely acknowledged the cartoon on the TV, or when he pulled out his copy of The Brothers Karamazov that he’d been re-reading for the third time. 

“Would you like me to read to you? Would that be better?” He asked tentatively, and she didn’t even blink, as if she were some sort of zombie or corpse sitting next to him programmed for instruction on acting human. 

She said nothing, but she did move, the act of it making him jump slightly, and it was then he realised she had been perfectly still for the past half an hour, barely even showing signs of breath. A puppet with no master. 

She leaned over, her body dropping onto the sofa softly as if she was taking a nap, only for her head to rest on his thigh, and his hand flew to pull the claw clip out of her hair like he read her mind. Her knees nestled to her chest, in foetal position, her pretty black dress, the same one she’d worn for Haley’s funeral riding up past her knees. 

He gently tucked his long fingers into her roots, stroking her hair like she were a tame cat curled in his lap, clearing his voice as he continued where he’d left off, making sure he wasn’t reading too fast the way he would if it was just him. 

His head still whirled around the eulogy she’d read. How watching her crack beneath the weight of her own words had hurt him more than his own grief, had made him bury whatever it was he felt and just need to put her back together again. 

Because he didn’t need an eidetic memory to have ingrained what she’d said into his head, not even as they went to bed, and she burrowed into his side in one of his sweatshirts he usually saved for his own bad days. 

“Bug,” He braved to say, watching her eyes force themselves open from where they were on the very lip of sleeping, “You’re my very best friend, did you know that?” 

She hummed, her nose digging into his arm that he wound under her head, pulling her close enough he could feel her heartbeat against his own where she was in the crook of his neck. 

“I love you,” She said, like those three words didn’t rip the air from his lungs. 

Not even as her breathing finally evened out, and he felt himself heave a sigh of relief; the bags under her eyes had been more noticeable today than ever. Not even when he dared a kiss to her forehead as she slept, the smell of her shampoo completely taking over his pillow as he allowed his own heart to hurt for just a few moments, missing his friend dearly as he looked after the woman.

Love is a person you want to spend every day making them happy, and make them proud to say they love you too. 

He knew then.

–

TAGLIST

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33

[bywrios]

"c'mon, giddy'up back there," boothill mutters, his knee bouncing restlessly as he resists the urge to turn over his shoulder and check on your progress again. you grumble behind him, one hand smacking his metallic waist, and he can picture the furrow of your brow and the way your tongue sticks out in concentration in his mind's eye. one of the metal panels of his back has been removed, exposing the wires and circuitry of his mechanical organs.

the whole reason for this impromptu examination was the fact that he had been feeling... strange after his last bounty, for some reason. it had involved a high-speed chase in a roofless car, hot on the heels of some ipc scumbag. he’d done his best to dodge whatever shitty bullets the scumbag’s entourage had shot at him, but clearly, something had stuck—which is why he sits between your knees now as you check him up for damages.

his boot thumps on the soft, dusty earth under his heel. “well?”

“hold your damn horses,” you snipe back, muttering under your breath. he can feel a light pressure against the cords and connectors in his spine, the artificial replacement of his nerves. “i need to—oh.”

“what? whatsit?” he asks, a note of urgency in his voice at your silence. he isn’t particularly worried about getting fixed; his bounties ensure he has more than enough credits to spend on spare parts. it’s just that it’s a pain to have to travel to the nearest non-ipc mechanic feeling all funny.

(he ignores the voice in his head that tells him the true source of his worry: that his faulty body might not be able to protect you.)

“what’s wrong?”

he’s about ready to spin back when he hears a choked exhale rush out of your nose, followed by the airy sound of your giggles. it makes him still, but this time out of confusion, rather than concern.

“what the fudge has got you laughin’ your boots off back there?” he grumbles, and you only laugh harder. he glances over his shoulder and sees tears lining your pretty eyes, and then he glances down and sees… some sort of flying insect between your fingers? a very dead, and very fried insect. it had probably slipped in through one of the chinks in his plated skin during the chase.

“i guess you— i guess you could say there was a hardware bug,” you wheeze, free hand gripping onto his shoulder to steady yourself in between your fits of laughter. boothill gives you a withering glare, and plucks the dead, charred bug from your fingers, grinding it to dust between his own. he pretends to be annoyed, lips curled into a frown, but there’s a lightness to him he hasn’t felt in a while.

“hardy har har, yer so dang funny, ain’tcha?” he scoffs, shoving you lightly into the dirt.

you answer him with another burst of sweet laughter, unbothered and too lost in your own mirth, and it reminds him of the sound of the wind blowing through the mountain valleys, and how it whispered into his ears when he used to ride horses and not roofless cars.

with an exaggerated sigh, he lets your enjoyment at his expense slide this time.

(he doesn’t have a biological heart anymore, but even that mechanical thing in his chest can’t bring himself to interrupt you.)

[achilles-rage]

Close To You

summary: buck takes you out to a nice restaurant, then you spend the night at his place; as close to each other as possible.

word count: 5.0k

request: @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour - So I have a request, if possible! So it’s basically romantic!buck but he’s obsessed with making both you and him cum, like finishing together multiple times throughout the session if that makes sense, with aftercare too!

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write. also i definitely got a bit carried away, my bad lol. i really like how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy<33

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only!

You smile widely at Buck when you open your front door, your eyes trailing down his suit-clad figure before you lean in to give him a quick kiss.

“This is last minute. What have you got planned tonight, Buckley?” you tease with a raised brow as he takes one of your hands in his and guides you to do a spin for him. He uses this time to let his eyes roam your body, taking in your pretty blue dress and the way it allows him to see every dip and curve of your body. His pretty girl.

“Just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that a crime?” he says when you’re turned to face him again, teasing you right back and then pulling you both together. He guides your hand up to his shoulder, and then both of his hands grab your hips as he steps into your apartment, and he gives you another, deeper kiss. 

Honestly, he had a close call at work today, and it made him want to see you more than anything. And what better way to spend time with you than by treating you to a nice dinner?

“I guess not. Unless we don’t get dessert, then it’s most definitely a crime.” you reply when you pull away from the kiss, biting your lip as you look up at him with wide eyes. He chuckles, eyes studying your pretty face for a moment before he replies. God, he’d give you anything you asked for.

“Come on, I’m not a monster.” he teases, giving you a wink. You laugh softly, then begrudgingly part from him to grab your purse on your kitchen counter. Buck waits in the entryway, holding the door open as he watches you, and then you’re out the door and on your way down Buck’s jeep. 

You feel giddy as he drives to the restaurant, and he can feel the way your leg is bouncing as he keeps his hand firmly on your thigh. The movement makes your dress ride up your thigh ever so slightly, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Buck, but he tries to ignore it for now. He’s taking you for dinner first. 

You’ve been wanting to go to this new restaurant for months, but reservations are almost impossible to get; you’re not even sure how Buck managed to swing a last-minute reservation.

He acts like a perfect gentleman the whole night; not like you’re not completely used to that treatment from him, but the amount of effort he’s putting into this impromptu date night is making your whole body feel hot. You’re sure that if you weren’t surrounded by strangers right now, you’d be on top of him. 

It started with him opening your car door and helping you into the jeep, then telling you how gorgeous you looked at least four times on the way to the restaurant, then it was pulling out your chair for you, and then it was him insisting on paying for the entire meal. You tried to tell him that you should at least pay for dessert – even though all you have in your purse is your lip gloss and your phone, but it’s the thought that counts – but he shoots you down immediately. 

“I’m paying. It’s not your job to worry about paying for dates.” is all he says as he grabs the cheque, and you’re now completely sure that you’d be on top of him if it weren’t for being in public.

“What’s got you like this tonight?” you ask once you’re back in the jeep, the street lights illuminating Buck’s face every few seconds as you look over at him.

He squeezes your thigh twice as he glances over at you, an innocent smile on his face. He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you all night, and it feels like torture to have to stare at the road until he gets you back to his place.

“Like what?” he asks, and you tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing even though there’s still a small smile on your face.

“I don’t know; nice dinner, getting all dressed up. I mean, you’re usually like this, but not this much.” you say and he sighs, shrugging. He doesn’t want to worry you, but he knows he’ll have to tell you eventually; he’s never been able to keep much from you. 

“Just wanna spend time with my girl.” he tries first, and when your eyes narrow more, he tries again. “I just had a bit of a close call at work today. Nothing major, but I just wanted to do something with you, I don’t know.”

Your eyes soften at his words, and although you’re worried about how close this call really was, you know that it’s part of the job, and that he’s made it home safe today either way.

You grab his hand off of your thigh and squeeze it, then bring it up to your lips to kiss the back of his hand. He smiles over at you, and he feels the blush on his cheeks at the tender moment. 

“I love you.” is all you say when you meet his gaze for a split second. He hums softly as he looks back at the road, finally pulling onto his street.

“I love you. So much.” he replies.

When you get to his building, it’s like a switch flips. The second the elevator doors close, your lips meet each other’s, and he’s pulling you in by the hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

Both of your hands start to wander as the elevator brings you to his floor; both of your breathing growing laboured and soft whines escaping your lips as you both fight the urge to rip the other’s clothes off.  When you hear the faint dinging, you part begrudgingly, both panting as Buck takes your hand again and leads you to his door.

As he unlocks his door, you wrap your arms around his torso from behind, running your nails up and down the thin fabric of his dress shirt. You can’t help the soft giggle that tumbles from your lips when he drops his keys and lets out a rough “fuck;” his hands shaking so much in anticipation for what he’s planning on doing to you that he can hardly focus. 

As soon as the door is unlocked, you both stumble inside, and he kicks the door closed with his foot as he cups your cheeks in his hands, bringing your lips together once again. Your purse drops to the floor as he kicks off his shoes, barely parting from your hot kiss as he backs you up towards the kitchen.

When you feel your back hit the kitchen counter, Buck’s hands slide down your ass to the back of your thick thighs and lift you onto the counter, making your dress ride up your thighs even more.

“God, you’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” he whispers against your lips as his fingers trial up under your dress and along the outside of your thighs. You pull back with a dazed grin, eyes darting down to his puffy lips for a moment before you reply.

“I think I could ask you the same thing.” you tease, and he grins too. He admires you for a moment as you sit on his counter, your plush belly and thighs on full display for his eyes, and he has to fight back a groan. He’s so in love with you. 

He kneels in front of you for a moment, and you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, but then he grabs one of your ankles and begins to unbuckle your heel. You watch with a soft smile as he takes both your shoes off, and when he takes each one off, he finishes with pressing a soft kiss to your shin, just below the knee. 

When he stands back up, you both just stare at each other for a moment, looking into each other's eyes and both silently wondering how you got so lucky to find each other.

He brings your lips back to his for one more kiss, placing one hand on the side of your neck, before he trails kisses down your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head back immediately, and your hands eagerly go to his chest, trying blindly to push his suit jacket off of his shoulders. 

His lips don’t leave your neck as he shrugs off his jacket, and when his arms are free again, he wastes no more time in pushing your dress up to expose your lower half, the skirt now bunched around your waist.

Neither of you care that you’re both still fully clothed as you work to unbuckle Buck’s belt and he pushes your panties to the side, two fingers gliding through your slick folds. 

You bite your lips as you work to get his cock free, and when you’re finally able to pull him out of his pants, you waste no time in wrapping your hand around him. His two fingers have already plunged into your cunt as you stroke his cock, both of you moaning softly and bringing your lips together in a sloppy kiss as you try to focus on the other’s pleasure.

You try to keep a steady pace, running your thumb over the head of his cock every so often, but you’re finding it increasingly difficult as he uses two fingers to fuck you and his thumb to rub circles over your clit. 

To make matters worse, every few strokes, he sways forward; closer to you, and his tip presses against your dripping cunt so teasingly that you want to scream. If it weren’t for his desperate moans and grunts, you’d be sure that he’s doing it on purpose. His kisses to your neck feel white hot, and you can’t help but close your eyes as you keep your head tilted back.

When you feel him start to get closer to the edge, you slow your pace, moving achingly slow as he picks up the pace of his fingers. He curls them up to hit that spot inside you, and you mewl loudly, tilting your head back as you feel yourself getting close to the edge now, as well. He smirks as he sees your expression, and he coos softly, tilting your head back down with his other hand and bringing your lips back to his. 

In a few more strokes, he’s right on the edge, and he leans back from your lips again, urging you to take your hand off his cock and replacing it with his own. You lean back on your hands as you watch him, eyes glued to his hands as he continues to rub your clit roughly and fuck his fist, and in a few seconds, you’re both falling over the edge with loud moans.

He keeps his eyes on your cunt as you both cum, watching you clench around nothing as he paints your pussy with his cum. You bite your lips as your chest heaves, and you finally look back up to Buck’s face, meeting his eyes as you both try to catch your breaths. 

He finally removes his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean with a soft groan. You watch him intently, your mouth going dry as you become unable to think about anything other than how fucking good your boyfriend looks right now. Sure, he’s attractive all the time, but right now, with his slightly wrinkled dress shirt and his blown pupils, you’re not sure how you’re ever able to leave the house.

“I’m nowhere near done with you.” Buck says, after he’s finished cleaning his fingers, then brings you in for another passionate kiss. He yanks you closer by your hips, and you put your hands on his chest, shaky hands working to unbutton the shirt so you can see his beautiful torso.

When you finally get the last button undone, your hands move back up to his chest, then to his shoulders, and you push the shirt down his arms and off his body. 

You part from his lips to look at his bare chest, your fingers ghosting across the scars and freckles on his skin. He chuckles softly as he watches your eyes move down his torso, seemingly in a daze, and he lets you look at him for a moment, then uses one hand to lift your chin back up to face him with a smile.

“It hardly seems fair that I’m practically naked and you’re still fully clothed, baby. I think I’m gonna have to even the playing field.” he teases, gesturing to his bare chest and his pants now sitting low on his thighs. 

You laugh softly, but it turns into a quiet yelp as he pulls you off the counter to stand in front of him and then turns you around and pushes your upper half onto the cold countertop. You hum softly, biting your lips as he grabs the hem of your dress and pushes it up to bunch around your waist again, admiring your pretty panties that have moved back into place from your movements and the dark wet spot now covering your cunt. 

In one swift motion he yanks your panties down, and you shiver as the cool air hits you.

“Almost there.” he whispers in your ear as he leans over you, pressing your back to his front. His arms loop around your torso, one hand landing on your plush tummy, and the other just above your chest, and then he pulls you back up to stand up straight.

 He works quickly to pull your dress off your body and throw it to the side, and then he works to get your bra unclasped, sliding the straps down your shoulders painfully slowly once it’s undone.

“You’re so pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he rasps as he gently pushes you back down onto the countertop, and you whine softly, desperate to feel him. You push your hips back against his, and he groans as he grips your hips, stopping your actions.

“I’m getting there, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” he purrs, and you whimper in anticipation. As much as he normally likes to hear you beg, he doesn’t think he has it in him right now. So, without any warning, he grabs his cock and glides it through your folds, coating himself with your arousal, and then he buries himself to the hilt with a loud moan.

You lurch forward as you feel him stretch you out, feeling his tight grip on your hips as he slowly slides out almost completely, only to bury himself into your sopping cunt in one swift motion. As he starts to fuck you, all you can do is moan, and your cheek resting against the cold counter is a harsh contrast to the way your skin is burning. 

While he keeps one hand on your hip, his other moves up to your back, ghosting over your rolls and your stretch marks as he tries to touch as much of your skin as he can. You’re always so pretty for him, and right now is no exception.

His lips press hot kisses to the back of your neck and your back between low moans in your ear as he leans over you, and you can’t help the whimpers and pleas tumbling from your lips as he fucks into you like he hasn’t seen you in weeks.

As he keeps the steady pace of his thrusts, he leans down again, pressing his chest to your back. He’s desperate to feel you as much as he can; desperate to touch you and love on you, as if letting up on his hold will make you disappear right before his eyes.

He trails one of his hands from your hip to your arm, forcing you to hold your wrist up above your head on the counter as he intertwines your fingers, his palm pressed against the back of your hand; desperate to convey how much he loves you.

He fucks you slowly, moaning into your ear as he whispers soft praises into your ear. How good you feel around him. How well you take his cock. How pretty your moans are. He’s pressed so firmly against you as his hips move that it feels like he’s trying to mold you two together, not that you mind. Him being so close feels so good, the movements of his hips aside. 

He can feel you clenching around him, and he can hear the way your moans become more high pitched and breathy, and he knows you’re close. He picks up the pace just slightly, although it’s far more slow and sensual than usual, and you moan loudly, grip tightening on his fingers.

“You gonna cum with me, baby?” he murmurs in your ear, and you nod quickly, trying to move your hips back against him.

“Please, wanna feel you.” you whimper in response, and he smirks. He moves his other hand from your hip and wraps it around you, fingers moving to circle your clit sloppily as he tries to hold off on cumming too soon. He loves the feeling of both of you letting go together, and he’s desperate to bring you to the edge before he fucking explodes. 

“I’m gonna- I’m-” you moan breathlessly a few moments later, and with a few more thrusts, you’re both reaching your highs. You feel his cum painting your insides, and you let out a content sigh, smiling when you feel Buck bury his head in the crook of your neck. He rests there for a minute or two, still buried inside of you as you come down from your highs, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his body on top of you consumes you.

“You’re always so good for me.” he whispers against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Can we do that again?” you tease, barely able to keep your eyes open as you focus on his voice. He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the middle of your back; right between your shoulder blades, then stands up straight. 

He finally slides out of you, groaning at the mess between your thighs as he spreads you open with his hands on your ass, then pulls you to stand up straight and turns you to face him.

“Patience, baby. We’ve got all night.” he murmurs as he moves one hand up to grip your throat gently, stopping you from rising onto your toes and kissing him again. 

His eyes soften as you pout, and he chuckles; he can’t say no to you. He leans down and gives you a featherlight kiss that leaves your head spinning. He’s usually gentle with you, unless you ask otherwise, but tonight, you can feel his love for you pouring out of him.

“You wanna go upstairs?” he asks when he pulls away, and you nod. Your knees feel weak at all the attention – and the orgasms he just pulled from you – so lying down sounds perfect right now. 

He pulls his pants back up, just until he can get to his room and take them off completely, then guides you up the stairs to his room, trying desperately to keep his eyes off your ass as you walk ahead of him. 

When you get to his room, you collapse onto his bed while he pulls his pants off, and when he’s finally lying beside you on his back and your cheek is pressed against his chest, you barely even think to care about the mess between your thighs. You’re sure you won’t be going to sleep soon either way.

“How bad was your close call today?” you ask after a few moments of silence, fingers trailing along his chest in front of your face.

“I mean, it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t being struck by lightning or anything.” he tries to joke, a sheepish look on his face. You lift your head off his chest and look up at him with a raised brow and he sighs. “Alright. I was trying to save someone who had fallen off their balcony, and was hanging on the side of their building. When I got lowered down, the winch malfunctioned, and I almost fell. I saved the person, though. Everyone’s alright.” 

You sigh, biting your lip. Of course his attention is focused on the person he saved.

“But are you okay?” you ask, and he nods quickly, giving you a look that shows you he’s not lying.

“Baby, I’m fine. Promise. You just saw all of me, I don’t have any bruises or anything.” he tries to joke, and this time you do laugh a little. He’s right; you hadn’t seen anything to convince you that he isn’t okay.

“You’re a good man.” you tell him after a second, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. He blushes, a smile fighting its way onto his face as he raises a brow. Your smile widens when you see his confused expression and hear the small “thank you” that falls from his lips before you explain.

“You just told me that you almost fell off a building today, and the first thing you said after that is that the person you were meant to save is alright.” His brows furrow, and he shrugs, a little confused as to why you’re praising him right now. Not that he minds, of course. “Well, yeah. That’s why I was there.” he says a bit hesitantly.

“Baby, if anyone else was in your situation, they’d probably only be worried about themself. I’m sure that as you were struggling to keep yourself from falling, you were still thinking about the person you were trying to save.” He can feel his cheeks getting hot at your praise, finally understanding. Although he doesn’t feel like he deserves the praise, he relishes in it, staring into your eyes with so much love.

“I’m so happy you’re all mine.” you whisper before you press your lips to his. He lets out a content sigh as his arm wraps around your waist, helping you sit up and straddle his hips.

Once you’re on his lap, legs on either side of his body, his hands move to your thick thighs, digging into the flesh as he melts into the kiss. He lets you kiss him for a minute or two, but it’s when you start moving your hips against his that he flips you over, trapping you under his weight.

You laugh softly as you stare up at him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he settles between your legs, and you can feel his cock against your heat, growing hard at the small bit of friction.

“You want more, huh, baby?” he teases you softly, although he knows that he wants you just as bad.

“Please?” you ask as you look up at him with big, wide eyes. He groans at the pleading look on your face, and he glides one hand down the side of your face as the other holds himself up.

“You’re gonna get what you want, pretty girl.” he murmurs before his lips are on yours. You moan against his lips as his tongue slides into your mouth, and you loosen your legs around his hips to allow him to grind against you slowly.

He’s painfully hard again as he moves against you, and he can’t hold himself back from grabbing his cock and sliding into you slowly after a few seconds, desperate to feel you again.

Your face scrunches up as he bottoms out, and you keep your eyes on him as he begins to move, soft moans tumbling from your parted lips.

He can’t get over how pretty you look under him; sprawled out on his bed, your soft belly and tits moving with each thrust, and your big eyes locked on his as he splits you open on his cock. He can feel your skin against his as he moves his hips, one hand still holding himself up while the other moves down your neck to your chest, squeezing one of your breasts.

You arch your back into him, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as the pleasure envelopes you. He takes the time to admire you again, and relishes in how you feel pressed against him, so eager to take all that he’s willing to give you.

He looks back up at your face after a moment, then gently taps your cheek with two fingers, urging you to open your eyes again. When your eyes flutter open again, he moans, feeling your fingers digging into his shoulders as he stares deeply into your eyes. 

You’re both feeling sensitive from your previous orgasms, so it doesn’t take long for both of you to get close to the edge yet again. Buck keeps his eyes locked with yours the entire time, however, loving every expression that crosses your face and how you look spread open for him on his bed. 

As you both get closer and closer, he moves his hand to your throat, gripping it gently, as if to force you to keep your eyes open, he can tell that you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“Can you give me one more, baby?” he asks and you nod, whimpering as you keep your eyes locked on his. You can see the thin layer of sweat across his skin, and you bite your lip, feeling yourself getting dangerously close to the edge.

He pulls you in for a kiss, his hand still firmly on your throat, and his thrusts grow sloppy as his balls tighten.

With a few more thrusts, you’re both falling over the edge, and Buck leans away from your lips just in time for you to watch each other cum. As his hips still, you take the time to close your eyes, breathing heavily as you feel his release fill you up. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to that feeling.

“God, I love you.” he whispers as he nuzzles into your neck. He presses soft kisses to your skin as you both come down from your highs, letting you relax as he keeps your fronts pressed together. 

“I love you.” you whisper back, your eyes still closed as you bask in the feeling of him still pressed against you.

After a minute or two, he pulls out, and you whimper softly, suddenly feeling extremely empty. You frown when you see him stand up from the bed, but when he holds out a hand to you, you smile.

“Shower?” is all he says. You nod, grabbing his hand and letting him help you off the bed. 

He leads you to the bathroom, then wraps his arms around you and holds you close while you wait for the shower to heat up. He presses kisses to the top of your head as you rest against his chest, both of you wanting to stay as close to each other as possible; not wanting to be apart for even a second.

When you’re showered; each of you taking turns to help wash the other, you dry off and get back into bed. You relax into each other’s embrace, warm skin to skin as you try not to let the quick approaching sleep envelope you too soon.

“Do you want some water?” Buck is the first to break the silence, and you shake your head, too consumed with the feeling of his chest pressed to your back to even think about one of you getting out of bed.

“I just wanna lay with you.” you tell him in a quiet voice, sighing. He smiles, then presses a kiss to the back of your neck. Who is he to deny you such a sweet request?

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” he asks, his arms tightening instinctively around your waist. You smile, nodding quickly. “Of course I do. And I love you, too. More than anything.” you reply, and he’s sure that if you both weren’t so tired, he’d have you on your back again.

“Good. Because I let you order two desserts and split them even though I only wanted one of them.” he teases with a quiet chuckle. You laugh along with him, rolling your eyes.

“And I’m pretty sure you ended up liking the other one better, anyway.” you tease back, an exhausted smile plastered onto your face. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re always right, aren’t you?” he says, and you can tell from his voice that he’s smiling. You nod, giggling softly.

“It’s about time you admitted it.” you counter. You feel goosebumps on your skin when you feel his lips press to your bare shoulder, and you sigh, your eyes closing once again.

“Go to sleep, I can feel how tired you are.” he whispers in your ear. You hum softly, sighing heavily. You can feel your thoughts become cloudy, and it feels like everything is moving slower as you sink further into his arms.

“Can we do this again next weekend?” you ask in a quiet voice, and although you meant for it to come out in a teasing tone, you’re so tired that it comes out as more of a gentle plea.

“Of course, pretty girl, I promise. Now, go to sleep.” You nod slowly, and not a minute later, you’re asleep. He presses one last featherlight kiss to your bare skin before he closes his own eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep either, it never does after he has you, but this time he’s out in record time, and his arm stays firmly draped over your waist the entire night.

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[thexsilentxwordsmith]

A comprehensive list of all my fics in order from most recent to oldest with summary descriptions for each.

18+

Chosen

Summary: Your relationship was all a lie and the confrontation about it happens in front of everyone, including a certain lieutenant that has a secret. Seeing you so upset has him following after you with a need to help and after a confrontation, there is a confession that happens that changes everything.

Two for One

Summary: Friends and coworkers, Sgt. Mactavish and Lt. Riley have one thing in common: how much they want you, though one is less vocal about it. During at night out everything comes to a head and suddenly you are leaving out of the bar with both on the way to a night of intense attraction coming to a head.

Rumors

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Sleepless Nights

Summary: A bout of insomnia keeps you awake, so you decide to go for a midnight walk. To your surprise you find that you aren't the only one still up as the sound of the shower running in the communal bathroom catches your attention. Who is it and what are they doing in there? Why does it sound like your lieutenant and why is he moaning your name?

Closing Time

Summary: A military lieutenant closing in on retirement, a younger, beautiful bartender, when you and Lt. Riley meet there is an instant chemistry, though it doesn't really go anywhere as he thinks himself a little too mature for you... until one night he stays at the bar later than he ever has and gets caught in a storm. What will happen after closing time?

A Lesson Well Learned

Summary: Tired of your antics regarding how cavalier you take your sexual relationship, your lieutenant cuts you off and that has you immediately plotting. You know you can get him to break and all it'll take is one purchase. How can he keep his resolve when he sees what you've bought? And how will he act when he catches you?

Smoke Break

Summary: Lt. Riley sure has been taking a lot of smoke breaks lately. Strange that you always seem to disappear at the same time too.

Meetings and Temptations

Summary: A new relationship means excitement, an uncontrollable craving for each other. When an early morning romp is interrupted with a scheduled weekly meeting, will you be able to keep your hands to yourself when Price begins to drone on? And if you can't, what will your lieutenant lover do once the meeting is over after you've tempted him for far too long?

A Risk Worth Taking

Summary: You and Simon can't keep your hands off one another as you come home one night, but a slight problem has you in a pickle: your birth control has just run out and you are all out of condoms. Not to worry, Simon assures you that he will pull out. But as you ride him you begin to question if you really want him to. Will he stick to his promise or will he give in to your need?

Can't Let You Go

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

A Ride You'll Never Forget

Summary: Seeing Simon on his motorcycle is something that awakens a new yearning inside you, but when you get your own bike and start riding alongside him, the way he gets you hot and bothered makes it worse. You need him to fuck you on his bike and you hope your plan will make it happen.

A New Form of Pleasure- Part 1

Summary: Simon is struggling, he can't get off and he doesn't know what to do. As his sergeant you are one of the closest to him and can see something is up. An impromptu visit late one night might just be what he needs... And the way you are suddenly making him bow to your authority and turning his brain off might actually make him come.

A Need for More- Part 2

Summary: There is something that happened between you and your superior, something that unlocked a new side to both of you that neither of you knew about, but Simon may not be as keen to accept it as you are. However, after a bit of silence on his part, a late night visit might just fix everything.

Breakfast in Bed

Summary: Only a few more days are left of his short leave and Simon is determined to make every last second count with you. What better way to start the day than buried in between your thighs, helping you wake up by the feeling of his tongue alone and then overstimming you.

Truth or Dare

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Truth or Dare 2: Dare To Tell the Truth

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Truth or Dare 3: How Truly Do You Need Me

Summary: After being so rudely interrupted in the middle of you and your lieutenant's tryst, but he made a promise. "This isn't over." You hope that he plans to keep it, but when? Things might have to wait as you are assigned to a mission with him. But when being close proves to much, will both of you be able to hold off on your lust or will you succumb to all that tension?

Truth or Dare 4: Dare to Take It Further

Summary: Something has changed; no, actually everything has changed as you and Simon forget the world a moment finally let that passion run its course. The thought was that once you both had each other it would make things calm, but now you're not so sure. Maybe he is willing to risk more and maybe you are too. Having to sneak around isn't so bad, right? Maybe it could all work out... At least you hope so. But things don't always go according to plan.

Truth or Dare 5: No More Games

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

A Special Dinner for Two

Summary: Such a good little wife you are to your military husband, ready to welcome him back home after he returns from deployment. This time you've even prepared a meal of all his favorites, but when Simon gets back early than expected and catches you flitting about the kitchen in nothing but his t-shirt, it isn't food that he wants.

I'll Crawl Home To Her

Summary: Simon is away on a mission and you are on his mind. Having to extend his stay, he is going to miss Valentine's day, but coming across a recent trend on TikTok, he may have a way to say just how much you mean to him.

Don't Touch What He's Claimed

Summary: A night out at your favorite local hangout is what he promised you after being away on deployment for so long, but one small incident throws him over the edge into full on possessive episode. Something about the way he is pulling off to the side of the road might mean he can't make it home before reclaiming his prize.

Simon Riley: Girl Dad Extraordinaire

Summary: From a request about Simon being more hands on with his 3 m.o. daughter.

You Are Beautiful

Summary: When a movie night has you questioning your bodies worth, Simon catches you in the shower to show you that your body is perfect just the way that it is.

Simon fingering you under the table during a night out at the bar with the Taskforce

Summary: With the drink flowing and the atmosphere right, Simon cannot seem to keep his hands off of you. There is a need, a need to touch and to play.

Let Me Talk You Through It

Summary: While on deployment far away, Simon takes a little time one night to video call you and talk you through you touching yourself to the sound of his voice.

Simon needing to hold you after a bad day

Summary: After a day where nothing goes right, Simon only wants to come home to the one person he trusts- you.

Cockwarming Simon as you two make out in his office

Summary: From a request for Simon getting so worked up during a cockwarming session that he ends up having to pull out because he is going to come.

Drunk on You

Summary: Simon comes home from deployment, hungry to have his pretty girl all to himself. Things get heated quick and before long you are both drunk off the feeling of the other.

Bringing in the New Year with Simon

Summary: Short one-shot about how it would be spending NYE with Simon at the stroke of midnight.

Simon waking up in the middle of the night horny and unable to get back to sleep. There's only one thing he wants to fix it.

Summary: A little sleepy cuddle-fucking to get Simon back to sleep.

Wanna Make You Mine

Summary: Simon is out at a stag party for Prices upcoming wedding when he comes how early with something important on his mind that he needs to see you to say. Is he just drunk or is it something more?

Simon making it clear that you are the only one he wants

Summary: An incident with a new recruit has you questioning things, but not to worry as Simon is here to show you that you are the only one he could ever want.

Simon is so worked up all day that he rushes home, telling you to meet him at the door because he cannot wait to have you

Summary: He has been needing you all day and as soon as he gets home he wants you waiting ready for him so that he can fix that ache that has been driving him insane.

I'll Take You Filthy

Summary: Being the leader of your platoon and fucking you at the same time isn't something Simon wants paraded around, for both of your benefit as trouble could come from such a relationship. But keeping it a secret has become a problem as you've been out on a mission for a couple months with no physical contact to be had. The moment you return Simon has to have you...even though you are both filthy as fuck.

His Heart, His Light, His World- Dad!Simon

Summary: The birth of his first child changes everything for the rough around the edges military man. A small glimpse into his life now as a father.

A Bit of Fun At the World's End

Summary: Being on the run from the undead doesn't leave much time for more intimate things, but once things start to settle a little an ache begins to form that you haven't felt in a long time. What will you do when the only other person you are with is your former lover turned zombie.

Joining the 141 had one hard rule: no relationships of any kind between members, but that is something proving to be too much the closer you and Simon get

Summary: Simon cannot help but break the rules when it comes to you.

Body worship with Simon

Summary: Simon taking the time to make sure you feel like the goddess he thinks you are.

Simon desperately eating you out after a rough day

Summary: It has been a terrible, no good, rotten ass day. There is only one cure for it and that is for that hulking military man to find his way between your legs to eat you out until he can't breathe.

Getting so worked up during a celebration for Price's birthday that Simon has to take you in the bathroom of the bar

Summary: You just couldn't wait until you both got back, could you? No, not when you and Simon are screwing like bunnies every chance you get. So what's Simon to do? That's easy, take you in the bathroom and fix the problem of course.

Think of Me When You Cum Later (Part 1)

Summary: Simon is missing you like crazy while being away on a mission, but he has a clever plan to make sure you miss him too. So, perhaps a little video of him stroking himself will do the trick.

Something to Make it Worse (Part 2)

Summary: You get Simon's video and it leaves you wanting him something bad. Well, two can play at this game, so why not send him back a video of your own?

Something to Break the Tension (Part 3)

Summary: All the buildup, all the teasing, finally leads to this: Simon is back and ready to act on all those filthy things you two had been teasing each other with. Will you make it home before you both explode? Or will the car have to do to break the tension?

Late Night Texts (Part 1)

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Mid-day Texts (Part 2)

Summary: Simon is getting more and more obsessed with his little friend who constantly finds herself in his bed. But when you are off on a quick mission for a few weeks, Simon begins to grow restless and this no strings attached messing around finds itself being turned on its head. What happens when you get a text from him the day you get back, in the middle of the day?

Life Changing Texts (Part 3)

Summary: After your explosive homecoming where everything seemed to fall right into place, Simon begins to get cold feet about his feelings and what they could mean for the both of you. All seems bleak until a text about someone harassing you while you're on a night out makes him come to your aid and solidifies a decision he has already made.

Spending the night at Simon's for the first time and him waking up to you in nothing but his oversized shirt

Summary: From a request about Simon seeing reader in his shirt for the first time.

Simon and you screwing in the shower

Summary: What's better than sex with Simon? Add some steam, some hot water, and some solitude and you have the recipe for a very good time.

Having Simon pick out lingerie for you

Summary: Coming up with the idea to take Simon out so that he can pick out a couple pieces of lingerie he wants to see you in, his choices really surprise you.

Simon has a favorite item of clothing you wear and you wear it since he's having a bad day

Summary: Simon has one favorite piece of clothing you wear and of course when he's having a rough day, you just have to wear it for him.

Simon fucking you brainless and then rubbing your head as you pass out beside him

Summary: Simon is not shy when it comes to sex, it's the more intimate things that he has a problem with. But after a round of rigorous screwing, he wants to show you a bit of extra care.

Desperate Times Call for Filthy Fantasies (Part 1)

Summary: As a new recruit, you should not have the gall to talk back to your superior officer like you do. He's tried it all, trying to work the insubordination out of you, but to no avail. Your antics have really gotten under his skin lately, but is it really because you won't listen and follow orders...or is there something more to it that he can't admit? The way his cock throbs might indicate the latter and what he thinks about as he touches himself might just speak to that as well.

The Brat and Her Beast (Part 2)

Summary: After a certain Lieutenant allowed his fantasies to run wild, there was only one thing left to do: make them a reality. Opportunity presents itself one day as your brattiness has reached new highs and he follows you into the communal bathroom and locks the door behind you both. You're all alone and now what? Seems you've bitten off more than you can chew, but you both know now that was your plan all along.

Silence on the Line

Summary: You and Ghost have always gotten through missions by keeping in constant radio contact when possible. On one fateful mission, he sends out the call but there is no reply. Only silence. As time goes on his greatest fear is realized and all that he knew is now turned on it's head. What happens when reality hits all at once? And what does it do to the once stoic man who is no stranger to death?

The Lieutenant's Whore (Part 1)

Summary: When a one time sexual encounter leaves you wanting more, but the rules were set the moment he entered you and now he does his best to avoid you, what is a girl to do to get what she wants? That's right, make him jealous. And if it works a little too well maybe he will give you the night of your life. Good thing you have a flirty Scotsman to mess with, perhaps if you can't get your way, you can still have fun. Only time and a bit of effort on your part will tell what goes down.

What's Mine You'll Never Have (Part 2)

Summary: Hearing what he shouldn't have, Johnny is rightfully angry and what does he let that anger lead to? A bad attitude that leads to even worse decisions. As you confront him about this sudden change in demeanor, things start to heat up. What happens when Simon finds out? Actions have consequences and Johnny is about to learn that you will only ever belong to the man behind the mask.

[livwritesstuff]

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter. 

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and  then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

[captain-joongz]

Cream soda

Pairing: non-idol!Baekhyun x f!reader

Genre: annoyances to lovers, friends to lovers, smut, fluff

Word count: 6.6k

Summary: Baekhyun eats your pussy in the backseat of his car. That's pretty much it.

Warnings: reader is a little bratty at first, subby reader, dom-ish Baekhyun, dirty talk (i am so weak for this man, i didn't even have control over what came outta his mouth), some allusions to slight humiliation, overuse of petnames, fingering, oral (both f and m receiving), deepthroating, face fucking, cum eating

A/N: okay, this was a little unplanned. i was just watching exo cream soda moments and then suddenly thoughts of this man wouldn't leave me until i put this into words, so enjoy this impromptu piece as a little gift inbetween the scheduled content

„Ugh, I should have hitched a ride with Kai and Sehun,” I muttered under my breath as I side-eyed Baekhyun behind the wheel loudly belting out effortless high notes along to some pop song playing on the radio. The man in question giggled with his high voice and continued singing even louder, throwing amused looks my way with a mischievous smirk.

“Come on, princess, I know you love spending time with me,” he teased, lips shaping into a sly grin and eyes flitting between me and the road. I scoffed and folded my arms over my chest and looked out of the window sulkily.

“Yeah, when you’re quiet,” I murmured, which made Baekhyun laugh at me again and continue amusing himself with singing. I wouldn’t admit it to him out loud, lest I inflate his already humongous ego even more, but I did find myself awed with his voice every time he just casually started singing as if he was paid to do it. Outwardly I scowled, but I did like to listen to him when he did, which was always, as it seemed the man was incapable of shutting up.

Me and Baekhyun were kind of distaste at first sight. I’d gotten to know Kai in a dance class I took up in my free time and he occasionally came in to teach, and we made friends right away, the young dancer’s shy and genuine personality making it impossible to not love him. Before I knew it, I spent most of my Wednesday’s classes giggling away in a corner with him, trading stupid jokes and laughing at tom-foolery we came up with. I was kind of hopeless at dancing, but Kai made it so much fun I just loved coming back every week even though I knew I would definitely never learn to dance as he did. He was the one who taught me having fun and loving that I’m moving is more important than trying to be perfect, and I approached those classes with a free spirit and desire for a good time.

In time I started hanging out with Jongin even outside of those Wednesday’s evenings and gradually was introduced to most of his friend group, most of the time hanging out with him and Sehun, occasionally Chanyeol tagging along.

When I finally met all eight of them, it was at Jongin’s birthday party. I was sat next to Junmyeon, holding polite conversation with him about our respective careers, when Baekhyun arrived. Really, I could hear him long before the door even opened, but when it did, it was pure chaos. He waltzed in, dressed to the nines, screaming something and immediately running over to the youngsters and hugging them. For the whole evening, no matter where I was sitting or who I was talking to, there seemed to be a constant Baekhyun hum in the background. I could just always hear him and even though I barely talked to him, I knew everything he said to every single person in the room, because he was just incapable of speaking at a lower volume. And even worse, his energy and aura just drew my eyes and I found myself slipping and watching him interact with others, all wide smiles, silly antics and loud laughs. By the time I was walking home through the night city, the sound of his teasing voice and carefree giggles were ingrained into my brain, ringing like an echo even though I was long gone from his company.

So, the next time I was invited to another event with all of Jongin’s hyungs, I went in already a little annoyed with the man, which was made even worse by the fact that I got stuck sitting next to him. He would tease me, joke about everything I said and randomly butt into conversations I had with others. After hours of sitting next to him, I was at my Baekhyun limit.

Now, with time as we hung out more as a group, I’d gotten more used to him and even found myself laughing at his shenanigans, but my pride didn’t allow me to show it, especially since he started teasing me about being so uptight and never joking around with them. I would just find myself immediately ticked off anytime I could see his eyes fall onto me and that infuriating self-pleased smirk spread on his lips, brain already coming up with ways to embarrass me (I wasn’t actually embarrassed, and I had a feeling Baekhyun knew that otherwise he’d stop, but I wouldn’t say that out loud. I guess there’s just a lot of things I wouldn’t admit to him.). I enjoyed our little “rivalry” and learnt to balance Baekhyun’s wild energy with cold stares and deadpan delivery of sarcastic remarks. All in all, we actually worked quite well together.

That being said, I still did find him annoying. Especially when he rolled into events dressed in a way that accentuated every little attractive detail about him (and there were many) and threw his trademark smirks with hints and teases of tongue at anyone he pleased. I’d seen him in so many white or black tees that either perfectly showed off his biceps or teased his chiselled chest, with pretty necklaces and chains that drew attention to his neck and sharp jawline. More often than not I found myself going absolutely crazy with just one look at him, only to immediately want to smack him the moment he opened his mouth. Being around him was always just a whirlwind of confused lust and irritation.

Tonight was no exception.

Around new years there started to be talks of taking one extended weekend in the spring, renting out a nice loft somewhere in the woods and going there to drink and have fun. When the time came, we only had to decide who would ride with who. I originally was meant to go with Kai and Sehun, but they both wanted to take their girlfriends and in the end I couldn’t squish into the car with them, even though we tried. I attempted to ask the other boys, but mostly their cars were completely full with either people or supplies and couldn’t take on more baggage and an extra person. At this point Baekhyun stepped in and offered, because he had a car (I did not, I rode a bike most days and didn’t get a license for cars) and even though he originally planned to go with Chanyeol, it would be easier for him to go in his own and take me too. I reluctantly agreed. It was one thing to be spending time with him when there were other people present, but being shut in the car with him for hours, I had no idea how much I would be able to take.

I knew I was in for a wild ride (pun not intended) when he showed up dressed in washed out jeans with white streaks and splashes, white tee and a black lather jacket with snakeskin motive, his usual chains and necklaces contrasting with his smooth skin, teasing his neck and collarbone, and his white and black hair styled perfectly around his sharp beautiful face. He was leaning against his sleek black car with a smug grin and my knees were weak the moment I spotted him. So here I was, hours later, listening to him sing his heart out while looking like a fucking model and annoying the shit out of me.

It was already dark outside and I was getting antsy. We should have been getting closer but somehow our destination was still god knows how many kilometres away. I was hoping we could get there in time for dinner and a good night’s sleep, as tomorrow we a had lot planned, but several hours and two turn-backs later I started giving up hope.

“Are we even getting closer or are you just going to keep me in this car listening to your singing for the entire night?” I grumbled sharply and Baekhyun turned to me with a self-assured grin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” he answered with a wink, “you’re pretty grumpy when you get hungry, I’d prefer to feed you before I get my head bitten off.” Just then his phone beeped and the maps app started flashing a warning that he was no longer getting any signal and couldn’t be tracked. I groaned loudly while Baekhyun just cursed at it and pulled over at the first available spot. We were currently somewhere in the mountains, on the tiny little winding roads with little space. According to the surroundings, we should be close to the cabin, but for the love of god we just couldn’t find our way there, and the reason was the stupid fucking phone Baekhyun was currently furiously tapping while cursing under his breath. I sighed again and watched him lose a battle to the piece of technology.

“I swear I’m usually a really responsible chauffeur, it’s just because my phone is broken,” the white haired man said with a little nervous laugh, “It seems to be having trouble getting signal and therefore the GPS doesn’t work.” I just looked at him wordlessly, tired and annoyed, and raised my eyebrow.

“Okay, Miss Mad-at-the-world, pull out your phone then, let’s use your GPS,” Baekhyun joked, but I could hear an undertone of annoyance in his voice, which made me instantly angry. I did pull my phone out and unlocked it and then tapped with my finger to the right top corner. It read 10 % battery. This time it was Baekhyun who groaned loudly and then hit his head lightly on the top of the steering wheel.

“Well, then this might be the end of our journey,” he admitted sheepishly, “at least until my phone starts cooperating again.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I growled, the anger finally getting the better of me. Baekhyun looked at me sharply, his squinted eyes showing displeasure at my tone.

“I’m not happy about it either, you think I wanna be stuck in a car?” he spit back, just as fired up, “I’m hungry and I wanna sit down on a couch and watch a movie.” I threw a glare at him and then turned around to stubbornly look out the window, continuing my grumbling.

“God, I knew that driving with you was going to be trouble, I should have just pushed my way into Sehun’s car,” I mumbled petulantly, admittedly acting just a tiny bit like a little kid, “This is all because of you and your stupid broken phone.”

At this, Baekhyun groaned, his head thrown back hitting the seat as his hands flexed into the steering wheel. I watched it unfold in the reflection of the window and suddenly found a spark of a different heat running through my veins. I shuddered and squeezed my thighs together, surprised by the force of the unexpected arousal. Baekhyun was none the wiser, as he launched into an angry spiel.

“God, why do you always get so angry with me?!” he asked incredulously, “Every time I think we’re finally getting better, you go and get annoyed with me for no fucking reason! Even Jongin came to me and asked if I did something to you and you just didn’t want to tell him! I had to very embarrassingly explain to him that I didn’t know either why you just seem to hate me and only me!” Shame flooded me at my behaviour and I realised that of course everyone else seemed to pick up at my weird attitude when it came to this man. I truly found myself regretful at how genuinely upset Baekhyun seemed to be about not knowing what he did to irk me, especially since it was mostly my problem with how he made me feel than him actually doing anything irksome, but at that moment my brain was so overridden by lust that I couldn’t even tell him anything, because it felt as if I was melting and I couldn’t muster up a single thought except for how much I wanted to fucking jump him, months of repressed longing coming to the surface after I’d had to spend hours watching him be effortlessly attractive while driving.

“So tell me, what did I ever do to you?” Baekhyun exclaimed and turned to look at me, only to promptly freeze. I was already looking at him, having abandoned the window the moment he started talking, and suddenly anxiousness filled me at his expression. I was breathing quite hard and hoped it wasn’t as loud as I feared, the blush spilling over my face down my neck.

Baekhyun must have seen something in my unguarded expression, because suddenly he was relaxing into his seat, his previous anger and frustration melting into a smug smirk. I nervously fiddled with the edge of my skirt, embarrassment flooding me.

“I see,” he purred, his eyes flitted over my figure and filled with desire, “I understand now.” Then he abruptly leaned over to my side, one of his hands falling onto my thigh and gently squeezing, the other leaning onto the top of my seat, fingers tangling softly into my hair. Before I could stop myself, I let out a quiet little whimper, thighs squeezing on instinct, trapping his hand halfway between my legs. It felt as if our faces were just millimetres apart, breath mingling and lips almost brushing each other. I was entranced by his eyes, darkened by lust, expression suddenly sharpened by the arousal that was palpable in the air.

Then he chuckled, a shit-eating grin slipping onto his face, and pulled away. I took a deep breath, suddenly realising I stopped when he descended into my personal space. Baekhyun gave me a cheeky wink and started unbuckling his seat belt. Before I even processed what was happening, he was stepping out of the car into the dark.

When I wasn’t moving, he bent down a little and looked at me through the open door, the grin still held fast on his face.

“What are you waiting for, princess? Get into the back seat.” His voice kept the teasing lilt, but there was a rough undertone to it and it did something to me, heat spreading rapidly through every pore of my being. He stepped back and the door slammed shut. Before I could think about it, I unbuckled as well and launched myself back through the little gap between the seats. When Baekhyun opened the door, I was already sitting there, waiting for him with wide eyes and mouth agape, hair and clothes messed up from the struggle and breathing heavily. He froze for a second and then started laughing as he crawled in onto the furnishing.

“How eager,” Baekhyun purred, his beautiful face twisting with a little twinge of aroused savageness, clearly getting off on my obedience and lust. I felt my pussy throb at his words and the tone of his voice, fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs in anticipation.

“Lay down on your back, princess,” Baekhyun instructed me and started taking off his leather jacket, his gaze following my every movement as I started shuffling to make enough space. I ended up having to spread my thighs to make enough space for the kneeling man, but still had to awkwardly lean my head in a sharp angle on the door behind me. This had my skirt falling back and basically revealing my black underwear to his hungry eyes.

I whimpered again, hands flexing in my lap, inadvertently bunching up the fabric of the skirt even more. At the sound Baekhyun’s gaze snapped to my face, a predatory smirk on his lips painting him in a completely different light than I’d been used to. For some reason I was expecting him to keep his light-hearted teasing persona even in bed, so I was wholly unprepared for this sudden dark lustful aura that seemed to consume him from the inside out.

Knowing he had my full attention, his hands suddenly grasped my ankles, startling a gasp out of me at the unexpected contact, and then his fingers lightly, teasingly made their way up to my knees. He tapped there a few times, watching their journey fascinated, before they continued on down the inside of my thighs. My legs twitched a little, a gush of wetness hitting my now completely soaked panties, while I waited with bated breath for his next move.

“You should have told me sooner, baby, I would have fucked the attitude out of you months ago,” Baekhyun’s voice rough with arousal suddenly rung out through the silent car and hit me to my core, cunt tightening around nothing at the lewdness of his words.

Before I could even reply, his hand pressed onto my wet clothed heat, fingers teasing the slit with slight pressure, and I moaned loudly, back arching off of the seats. My body was reacting to his presence and touch so viscerally it would almost scare me if I had the mental capacity to think about anything else than his fingers near my pussy.

I watched as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, his eyes trained on his hand playing with my panties, a whimper falling out of me when I imagined it between my legs. Baekhyun didn’t seem to be paying me much attention, rather focused on feeling out my pussy through my underwear. His other hand discreetly moved down his own body and squeezed his crotch, a shudder wracking through his body, eyes falling close with a pleased little sigh. I replied to the sight with a moan of my own, my mouth falling open as the last of my thoughts trickled out of my mind and were completely replaced by the vision that was Baekhyun pleasuring himself in front of me.

He peeked at me, watching me from under half-lidded eyes, the smirk on his face turning a little sharper. I was a little embarrassed by how easy it was for him to completely deconstruct me to a whimpering mess, and he barely even did anything, but clearly it was doing wonders for Baekhyun’s ego as he was exuding smugness while looking down on me. It made him look so powerful, like me and my pleasure were beneath him and I should be glad that he was even touching me in the first place, and that thought made me moan again, eyes rolling back into my head as I arched and pressed my pussy more onto his fingers.

He chuckled and obliged, pushing my panties to the side and running his fingers through my wet slit, thumb circling my clit while two of his fingers played with my entrance. I moaned and gasped, my whole body trembling with delicious tension as the waves of pleasure finally hit me full force.

“Please,” I gasped out, pussy pulsing with Baekhyun’s incessant teasing, “God, Baekhyun, please do something.” His fingers suddenly plunged in, but I was so wet and ready, they went in with no problem at all. A high pitched moan left my mouth and I gripped the edge of the seat. Everything seemed to spin along with the circles Baekhyun’s thumb was doing on my clit and I felt my sanity slowly slipping away, as the tingling feeling filled my whole body.

His fingers were just perfect, thick and a little bony, pretty and elegant, filling me in a way I was craving for months, and as he started unhurriedly pumping them in and out, I gasped and sighed and moaned with the mounting pleasure. For a moment I let myself be carried by the wave, eyes closed mouth opened just riding the burning feeling coiling in my belly, but then he stopped and pulled his hand away. Before I could stop myself I whined, long and drawn pitiful sound that made Baekhyun teasingly sneer at me with delight.

“Don’t cry, princess,” he whispered, voice rough and deeper than usual, “I’m just trying to figure out what you need.” With that he shifted and my attention was brought back to the bulge in his own pants, but he snapped his fingers, drawing my eyes back to his face. I felt myself blush at the open hunger and amusement in his gaze, knowing what I’d been looking at.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” Baekhyun continued, leaning a bit forward so he could look down on me with more of an impact. I whimpered and my thighs spasmed. His hand grabbed onto one and stabilised it with a soft caress. “Do you want my fingers? Hmm?” he asked with a faux curiosity on his handsome sharp face, “Or maybe something else?” His tongue poked out of his mouth again and unwittingly I gasped and nodded slightly before I could even think about it.

Baekhyun’s face crumpled into a smug smirk again, all sympathy draining out and getting replaced by pure hunger and lust. A bolt of desire pulsed through my entire body so strong I was surprised I didn’t physically jerk. Then he bent slightly over, kissing the skin of my knee. His eyes, ever so vigilant, watched hungrily for my reaction, and when I gasped slightly and tensed in his hold, it seemed to satisfy him enough. Slowly his lips made their way down the inside of my thigh, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses in their wake, until he reached my quivering centre, still covered by underwear.

He latched onto my clothed pussy, tongue pressing into the slit, putting pressure on my clit and licking around the edges of my panties. I tensed again, whole body shaking and anticipation and excitement flooding through my veins. But Baekhyun was suddenly in his teasing mood again and after a few moments of playing around with my clit with the tip of his tongue, he pulled away again. I didn’t even have time to whine though, as he immediately grabbed my underwear and swiftly pulled it off, leaving my pussy bared to him.

Instead of diving in, he chose to take the same path down the other thigh, but this time he was a lot less gentle, rushing down the expanse of the skin, leaving little bites and groaning lightly into the flesh, until he once again found himself buried in my pussy. The shock of his tongue licking a long stripe from my entrance up to my clit made me heave out a loud breath on a groan, body convulsing.

Now he wasted no time, suddenly seemingly as desperate to have me cumming as I was, his tongue wreaked havoc on me, sliding through my folds until it was lightly circling my clit before his lips latched onto it and sucked harshly. I was mindlessly laying there, twitching and shuddering, mouth open on a constant stream of quiet moans as he ate me out wildly.

He alternated between playing with my clit with his tongue and sucking on it with such force it left me breathless, before he slid lower and circled my entrance, moaning loudly into my cunt as his hands gripped my thighs tighter, leaving red indents of his nails. His head moved with the motion, bobbing excitedly as he licked me to my clit again before plunging his tongue in my hole without any warning.

It was such an onslaught of sensations I found myself barely hanging on, the fire in my lower belly consuming everything in its path and filling my veins with molten gold. I stopped caring about what kind of noises leave my mouth and gave myself over to the feeling of his tongue fucking into me in rough motions, nose bumping into my clit making me see stars. Blindly I reached over and grabbed his hair, tugging on it harshly and that had Baekhyun loudly groaning into my pussy, hands massaging my thighs as if he was holding on for dear life.

It was such a hot experience I could feel myself hurling closer to the edge, but I just needed an extra push. I used the grip on the hair as leverage and pulled Baekhyun away from my cunt. He looked at me, his fucked out expression bleeding into slight annoyance at getting interrupted. He looked a mess, the lower half of his face wet with my juices, lips shiny and red, tongue peeking out like he was a dog in heat. A blush was spread over his face, but spilled lower over his collarbones which were visible in the stretched out collar.

I pulled his head and pushed his mouth to my clit again. Without thinking, he immediately latched on and started sucking on it in between flicking it with his tongue, circling it and playing with it before giving it some rougher treatment. I moaned loudly, barely holding onto any thought, hand still holding him in place. When he wanted to move lower, his hair got pulled again and a debauched groan left his lips before he smirked at me.

“Suddenly turned all demanding, huh?” he said and teasingly licked through my folds as far as he could reach, “What is it baby, am I not doing enough?” I attempted to look at him, but I was already half gone, just desperately needing to come as soon as possible.

“Your fingers too, please,” I gasped out and with a single grin the man obliged immediately. Before I could process his lips on my cunt again, two fingers were plunged as deep as they could go into my heat. I nearly screamed out, but managed to turn it into a drawn out moan, legs falling open as far as I could push them. Baekhyun groaned in answer and then started harshly fucking me with them, curling them slightly to hit the sweet spot. Which he did, again and again and again. With a couple of flicks he had me losing my mind in the damn backseat of his car, on the cusp of cumming just from seeing his eyes drink up my own lust.

The car was suddenly filled with the sound of his muffled moaning, wet squelching of his fingers pumping furiously into my cunt and my own moans and sighs. I arched again, pushing my pussy into his face, into his fingers, so close to falling over that edge. I could barely think, barely hear, barely see, walls of my cunt spasming around him and milking his fingers of all their worth.

Baekhyun moaned again, hips moving on their own against one of my legs. I could feel his hard cock straining through the jeans and I loved knowing this was driving him just as wild, but I couldn’t hold that thought for long because suddenly he paired a couple of harsh pumps of his fingers with a hard flick and a long drawn-out sucking on my clit and I was launched into my climax, crashing into it so hard my hands flexed and had him groaning in pain and pleasure, hips stuttering against me.

The added vibration of his pleasured sounds carried me through it hard and I cried out, hips jerking against his face, the orgasm washing through my body in one huge tidal wave, white spots dancing behind my lids as I pressed them shut. The pleasure wrecked through me with a few quieter moans, leaving my thighs trembling. Then my whole body slumped down, the muscles relaxing and turning me into a rag doll.

I could hear Baekhyun breathing loudly, licking lightly at my spent pussy until I used my hand to pull him away again. He smirked at me, pulling my hand away from his white and black hair and sat back on his heels. His hands worked fast on his belt and zipper and I watched him utterly fascinated as he pulled his cock out, his hand frantically moving up and down the length as he chased his own pleasure.

I loved the sight, his cock was just as pretty as Baekhyun himself was, thick and curved with a tip flushed red, wet from pre-cum. I felt the fire burn low in my belly again, excitement making itself known through the tingling feeling spreading through my cunt. I moved faster than I was able to comprehend, suddenly kneeling in front of him with Baekhyun pushed against the door. I looked at him once with a mischievous expression and that was all the warning he got before I pulled his hand away and put his cock halfway down my throat.

He groaned loudly, hands immediately flying to my hair, tugging on it just as harshly as payback, and I moaned just as loudly in return, the sensation making him choke on a whimper. I was too eager, pushing myself to take him further into my mouth and in the process choking on his length, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel him in my throat. Baekhyun released a few raggedy moans, hands flexing in my hair and hips stuttering slightly, before he seemed to regain back some composure and decided to take control again.

His hand grabbed onto my hair a little harsher, getting a more solid grip before he stopped me from aimlessly choking on him. I looked up, completely ruined by lust and needing him to cum just as hard as I did. He smirked at me, pleased at my obedience.

“Gonna fuck your mouth, yeah princess?” he whispered roughly, hands once again getting a good grip, but his eyes waited for my confirmation. I blinked at him and tried to nod, which was pretty hard given my position but he seemed to understand.

His hips jumped a little forward as he was preparing himself to move and I cherished the feeling of his cock sliding deeper into my mouth, touching the edge of my throat. I breathed loudly through my nose, getting used to the feeling before Baekhyun started thrusting.

When he did, he started slow, with measured shallow thrusts that had barely half of his cock sliding into my mouth, but once I moaned and pushed against his hands holding me still, he got the memo and started earnestly fucking into mouth, hips languidly moving in elegant swerves and each thrust punching a high moan out of him. He tried to keep his eyes on me, but soon was too overwhelmed by the sensation and threw his head back as his hips kept relentlessly jerking forward, until I was choking on him on every thrust.

I concentrated on my breathing, but the throbbing trembling between my legs was making me delirious, moaning around the intrusion in my mouth and welcoming it back with every plunge, driving Baekhyun absolutely insane.

The car moved with the motion of his hips, swinging wildly from left to right, and if anybody passed by us, they would definitely know what was currently taking place inside. I could hear a quiet creaking of metal, lost behind the cacophony of Baekhyun’s long high pitched moans. His thrusts had gotten slower but harder, pushing into me until my face was smushed into his lower abdomen, the cock pulsing in my throat. I tried to swallow around it and a pitiful groan was punched out of Baekhyun’s mouth. I could feel he wouldn’t last much longer, his fingers digging into my hair tightly, hips losing rhythm and chasing after an orgasm, moans getting higher and higher.

I grabbed onto his thighs and my nails digging into the fabric of the jeans were no doubt felt through to his skin. His hands started guiding my head along his thrusts, pushing me into him on ever slide in. Drool dribbled out of my mouth, all over my chin and onto him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

With a few deep thrusts I could hear his stuttering breaths, the tightening of his balls before he stilled, cock pushed as deep as it could go pumping hot salty liquid down my throat. Baekhyun let out one last long moan, cumming in few hot squirts as his hips trembled and jerked lightly. I struggled to swallow around his length, stimulating the already sensitive head, punching out some whimpers out of him as his cum slipped out my lips and dribbled down my chin. My own cunt spasmed and throbbed with arousal, and I could feel the wetness sliding down my thighs, making me groan slightly.

He finally pulled out and his head lolled back to look at me. I barely had the presence of mind to look at him, eyes teary and face a mess of drool and cum. Something passed over his eyes and then he was suddenly pushing me down onto the seat, descending over me and kissing me harshly. I gasped and he immediately stuck his tongue into my mouth, no doubt tasting his release, but that didn’t seem to bother him, especially since he kissed me like a starved man.

I was so ready to cum again, too turned on from having him fuck my mouth to even pretend I didn’t need him again and he seemed to understand. With one hand he pulled up my shirt, lips migrating down my neck to mouth at my tits, while the other pressed between our bodies and without much preamble he plunged two fingers inside my hole again.

I whimpered, back arching and pushing my tits into his mouth, while my hips gyrated against his fingers attempting to ride them to completion. The madness at that point truly hit the boiling point as I didn’t need much at all and after a few rough well aimed thrusts combined with slight scraping of his teeth over my nipple I was cumming once again, this time my whole body spasmed and the pleasure was enough to tear a desperate scream out of my throat as I clamped down on his fingers, the ecstasy tearing through me with even more force than the first time. Baekhyun groaned a few times too, attempting to let me ride out the climax with some gentler strokes, before we both slumped down, the pleasant boneless feeling after a good orgasm getting us both.

Sound of harsh breathing was the only sound in the car as we both tried to get it back under control, our bodies cooling down. I was suddenly aware just how much cold wet release was all over my cunt and thighs, as well as a slight tick in my jaw was making itself known. Baekhyun pushed himself back on his knees and tucked himself back into his pants, tee haphazardly hanging off of him.

He gave me a winning smile with a touch of that smugness from before and then launched into motion. I rolled my eyes at him fondly, but let him do the aftercare, as I was still too drained to even move. Just as he was leaning over to the front seat trying to grab the packet of handkerchiefs to wipe me down, his phone suddenly started blaring through the silence of the car, scaring the both of us.

Baekhyun grabbed it and looked at it, then looked at me and said cheekily: “It seems that the signal is working again.” I just stuck my tongue out at him, to which he in turn started gesturing lewdly with his until I kicked him with a barely held back laugh.

The phone was still blaring, so he clicked the accept button and suddenly Jongin’s worried rambling was filling the silence of the car.

“Jesus christ, hyung!” he exclaimed, “We were so fucking scared! You were supposed to be here hours ago and none of us could reach either of you and we had no idea where you were!”

“Sorry, bear,” Baekhyun replied, though he didn’t sound nor looked very sorry, grinning at me while leisurely wiping my centre. I flushed with embarrassment, suddenly feeling shy now that Jongin was on the call. “My phone’s broken and Y/N’s died a while ago. We seem to be quite lost.”

“Are you anywhere close? I might be able to come and get you,” came Kai’s sweet reply, his voice full of relief now that we established we were alive and well. “I’m not sure, I think so,” Baekhyun told him and looked out the window. It was pointless, it was already dark outside and barely anything could be seen beyond the few dingy streetlights.

“My GPS kept fucking up, so we stopped by the side of the road for a little bit to see if it jumps back on, but I think we’re in the vicinity,” the man carried on explaining and I started searching for my discarded panties. When I bent over to fish them from underneath the driver’s seat, a hand made its way to my ass and caressed it gently. I flushed and ducked further to avoid looking at the smug bastard.

There was silence on the line, stretching until I started nervously twitching and turned back to sit next to Baekhyun. He watched me with a teasing glint to his eye and then winked.

“Uh-huh,” drawled out Jongin finally as an answer. I could hear in his voice he was suspicious and really, who could blame him. We disappeared, didn’t pick up phone calls and then Baekhyun tells him totally laid-back “oh yeah, phone’s broken and we’re somewhere on the side of the road” as if he was talking about what he was doing yesterday. I blushed again and slapped his shoulder lightly, earning a quiet amused chuckle.

“Okay hyung, stay there and send me your location while your phone works,” Jongin said, deadpan and clearly done with his shit, “and for fuck’s sake, be fully clothed when I get there.”

Baekhyun started loudly cackling while I slapped his shoulder some more in embarrassment. He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me flush to his chest, giggling at me playfully.

“Got it! Thank you, Jonginnie~”

The man sighed and grumbled something about Baekhyun being a menace and then hung up. I immediately groaned and pushed my face into the white-haired man’s shoulder.

“They’ll never shut up about this,” I mumbled and melted into the feeling of Baekhyun’s fingers gently carding through my hair. He chuckled lightly, reverting back to his happy persona.

“Just be really shameless, it will be less fun for them to tease you,” he laughed, “Walk in like ‘yeah I sucked his dick, what of it?’” He made some crude gestures with his free hand and then laughed when I slapped it again.

“Let’s get back to the front seats before Kai gets here, or he’ll be traumatised,” I told him and pulled myself back through the gap. When I turned back, Baekhyun was giving me a hungry stare again and I shuddered, my body valiantly trying to get aroused again.

“You forgot something,” he whispered and suddenly my black panties were hanging in the space between our faces, tangled around his beautiful fingers. I flushed, realising I must have flashed him when I clambered back to the passenger seat, but I could already feel the beginnings of a fresh wet heat between my legs.

I gave Baekhyun a look, which he seemed to understand judging by the annoyingly hot self-assured smirk making its way back onto his face.

“How long do you think we have before Kai gets here?”

I guess we were going to find out.

hope you enjoyed yourself <3

[lipglossanon]

Day 16

Kink: CNC and Degredation

Pairing: Stepson!Leon S. Kennedy x Stepmom!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, stepcest, consensual noncon, degradation, dirty talk, name calling, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, cheating

not proofread

Your husband was due to come home early October, but last minute changed his plans to meet up with some other company men somewhere in Europe. A short little phone call to you to let you know and then nothing. He barely answers your texts now, so it’s nothing new. 

Leon’s always around now, especially since you both crossed that line months ago, letting him fuck you stupid then asking for more. You still feel a twinge of guilt, but it fades faster with every missed call or visit postponement. At least Leon takes care of you in all the ways you need; someone who listens to you—surprisingly—taking care of your emotional needs as well as your physical ones. 

Tonight, he surprised you with a trip to a corn maze. You love all things fall related, so you’re happy with this impromptu trip. Wearing cute Halloween tights with witchy cats paired with a cute skirt and blouse, you’re low key excited for this outing. It’s like a little date. 

Leon promises to meet you at the location, called by a friend to get a ride home after having car trouble. You tell him not to worry about it and you’ll wait for him outside the maze. 

It’s been two hours now and it’s dark out, the last text from him saying he’s on his way before radio silence. Phone buzzing in your hand, you bring it up and slide open the text. 

Tucking your phone into your crossbody bag, you grab it and get out of your car. Feeling a little put out, you give the lady at the booth a few dollars to walk through the maze. You’ll still enjoy yourself, but it’s not the same. 

Since it’s nearly closing, almost everyone is done and gone for the night. You slowly meander through the stalks, breathing in that smell of autumn air—moist dirt and fallen leaves with a hint of hay and woodsmoke. It has your shoulders dropping, the stress uncoiling from your muscles.

You catch sight of someone ahead of you, assuring you’re not completely alone in case you do get lost. You’ve only run into one dead end so far at the start. It’s as your ducking down a new path that a sudden chill races down your spine. Turning, you don’t see anyone behind you which makes the arm yanking you back into a chest all the more terrifying. 

Before you can scream, a hand covers your mouth and you’re tugged further into the stalks. 

“Better keep quiet,” a hot breath hisses in your ear. 

You flail your legs out since an arm is wrapped around your chest like band, keeping your own arms pinned to your side. Jerking your head back trying to hit your assailant, your eyes catch on the wrist watch they’re wearing. 

It’s the same as the one Leon always wears; the blue watch face has a small gouge across the plate from where the band broke and it fell on cement. But you still stay tense, struggling against who you’re 99% sure is Leon. 

He wrestles you down to the ground, scuffing your tights against the dirt until he’s able to wrench your hips over, flipping you onto your back. Nothing but a black ski mask fills your vision making your heart race even faster. You open your mouth and try to bite the fingers muffling your sound. 

“Behave or I’ll have to do more than cover your mouth,” he growls down at you and you glare up at him. 

He pulls your wrists together with a harsh yank, “Keep it shut or this is gonna be worse on you, slut.”

Hot tears prick your eyes and you bite your lip as he pulls his hand away to tie your wrists together. 

“Why’re you doing this?”

He chuckles, a low mean sound, as he flips your skirt up to rip your tights at the crotch. 

“Cause you were asking for it,” his tone a simpering croon. “And this just proves it.”

His fingers brush against your bare cunt, smearing slick along your pussy lips. 

“Only a whore would be wet,” he laughs. “Guess this slutty pussy wants to be raped.”

Your breath catches and you shake your head wildly. 

“No, no, no,” you squirm and try to push away from the man above you. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he mocks. “Now be a good girl and take it.”

With one hand he grabs your wrists and pushes them above your head, following the motion so he hovers over you. His free hand undoes his jeans so he can pull his dripping cock out to press against your soaked slit. 

“Fuck, tight pussy’s gonna make me work for it, huh,” he groans, using his hand to press his cock into your hole, walls fluttering like crazy around the thick intrusion. 

Gasping, you whimper as he bullies his cock fully inside your clenching pussy. You catch a whiff of cologne (the same kind Leon wears) and it makes you clamp down tight on the cock inside you. 

“God, not gonna last with that fucking gorilla grip of a cunt you got,” he pants heavily into your ear. 

The hand not holding your wrists seeks out your slippery clit, thumb rubbing the pudgy bud in tight circles. 

“Bet this soft wet pussy can’t wait to get creampied,” he groans, humping against you with deep thrusts. “Since you’re soaked from being raped right here where anyone can see.”

 “Shut up,” you mewl, his words fanning your arousal even higher. 

The situation is too much for you both; it doesn’t take long for you to orgasm, pussy fluttering and milking his cock as he keeps rubbing your twitching clit. 

“That’s it, taking my cock like the fucking slut you are,” he shifts his hands to grip onto the fat of your hips, pounding into your sensitive cunt. “Gonna stuff you so full, cream your fat pussy like you deserve.”

He bites off a stuttered groan and ruts against you half a dozen times before spilling hot and thick deep inside your cunt. 

“That’s it, fuck, take every fucking drop,” he grinds against you and you whine, fingers flexing in their binds.

Laying there against you until he catches his breath, he pulls out with a hiss before untying your wrists. Pulling the ski mask off, Leon’s lopsided grin comes into view. 

“Good?”

“Good,” you laugh incredulously. “We’re both lucky it’s late.”

He shrugs, “It would’ve been embarrassing, but hey all’s well that ends well.”

He leans over to kiss you, a soft press of lips so at odds from his earlier actions. 

“I know the way out, so we can get you back to the car,” he eyes the apex of your thighs hungrily. 

Pushing his arm with a snort, you nod, “Sounds like a plan.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Friends (with Benefits) Don't: Part 8

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the final part of this story that I have written (as of right now). I'm going to try to get some of my other WIPs finished and posted but definitely may revisit Jake & Halo down the road because these two were fun to write about!

SUMMARY: After recovering from this mission Jake decides it's time to take Halo on their first date. But it has to be special. Dinner and a movie just won't do.

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I

PART 6 I PART 7

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: FLUFF.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS BELOW

Jake had been thinking about this date for weeks. It wasn’t just any night out; this was their first real date—one where there weren’t any distractions, hospital beds, or work keeping them apart. He wanted it to be special, but not over the top. Simple, thoughtful, something that showed her how much she meant to him.

He wasn’t exactly known for being the romantic type, but with her, things were different. She made him want to try, to push past his comfort zone and show her how deeply he cared.

Jake sat at the small table in his apartment, a notepad in front of him, scribbling ideas. He knew the usual fancy dinners and upscale restaurants wouldn’t feel like them—too impersonal. He wanted this to be something she’d remember, something with meaning. His eyes flicked to his phone, the picture of her smiling after their impromptu boat ride last week was still his lock screen.

That’s when the idea hit him.

He dialed Penny’s number before he could second-guess it.

“Hey, Penny, I need a favor,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “How would you feel about letting me borrow the boat for the night?”

The conversation with Penny went smoother than expected, and before he knew it, the pieces were falling into place. A sunset sail, a quiet dinner at her favorite beachside spot, and, if he could manage it, a moonlit walk on the beach afterward. It was simple, but it was them.

He made a mental note to keep things low-key with the planning, wanting to surprise her. Jake smiled to himself, imagining her reaction when she saw the boat. He knew she’d be impressed. And if there was one thing Jake liked to do, it was impressing her.

Satisfied with his plan, he sent her a quick message: “Hey, beautiful. Wear something nice tonight. Be ready by 7. And trust me.”

Later that night, Jake could feel his heart pounding a little harder than usual. It wasn’t nerves—he was a fighter pilot, after all—but something about this night made him feel more grounded, more present than usual. This wasn’t just about impressing her; this was about showing her that he was serious, that their relationship wasn’t just about convenience or casual fun. This was real.

By the time 6:45 rolled around, Jake was standing in front of the mirror, straightening his shirt and adjusting his collar for the third time. He smirked at his own reflection, shaking his head. When had he become the guy who fussed over his appearance before a date? Normally a quick glance was all he did and then he was on his way. But with her, it felt important. He wanted to look his best for her, to show her he’d put thought into tonight.

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the counter—bright, colorful, and full of life, just like her—and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror before heading out the door.

The drive to her place was quick, but it gave him time to think, to go over the plan again in his head. He wanted everything to be perfect, and he hoped she’d love the little surprises he had in store. He arrived five minutes early, because showing up late wasn’t an option tonight.

When he pulled up to her apartment, Jake’s heart did an extra flip in his chest. He spotted her silhouette through the window, moving around as she got ready. His stomach fluttered with anticipation as he parked the car and grabbed the flowers.

He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, his fingers tapping nervously against the bouquet. When the door opened, all the jitters melted away. There she stood, looking stunning, her smile lighting up the doorway.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jake said, flashing her a grin. “You look... wow.”

He held out the flowers, watching as her eyes lit up at the sight of them. They weren’t anything too fancy, just a simple bouquet from the supermarket, but the way her face softened when she took them told him everything he needed to know.

“These are beautiful,” she said, taking the flowers from him and inhaling their sweet scent. “Thank you.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe as she turned to put them in a vase. He watched her for a moment, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest whenever she was near. She moved around the room with a grace that mesmerized him, and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have her in his life.

“Ready to go?” he asked once she had the flowers arranged.

She nodded, grabbing her small bag and stepping out of the apartment. Jake offered her his arm, feeling her fingers loop through his with a sense of ease and comfort that he never wanted to take for granted.

“So,” she started as they headed toward his car, “you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shook his head, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nope. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

She raised an eyebrow but smiled, knowing that whatever he had planned, it would be worth the mystery.

As they pulled up to the marina, the sight of the boat waiting for them caught her eye, and a flicker of surprise crossed her face. Jake grinned at her reaction, parking the car and coming around to open her door.

“You ready?” he asked, offering his hand to help her out.

Her eyes darted from the boat back to him, a mixture of excitement and skepticism playing on her features. “Wait… you’re taking me on a boat?” she asked, biting her lip. “I didn’t even know you could sail.”

He chuckled, brushing off her concern with a wave of his hand. “I had some help,” he admitted, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. “Mav and Penny gave me a few lessons the last couple of weeks. Figured I should learn a thing or two.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing back at the boat with a slight grin. “And you're sure you’re not just winging it?” she teased, trying to suppress her nerves as he led her down the dock.

“Trust me,” Jake said with a wink, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I got this.”

When they reached the boat, Jake stepped onto the deck first, offering his hand to her once again. She hesitated for just a second, her eyes scanning the water below them before taking a deep breath and grasping his hand. With a gentle tug, he helped her onto the boat, steadying her as she found her footing.

“There you go, darlin’. Piece of cake,” he said, flashing her that signature confident grin.

She looked around the boat, impressed by how prepared he seemed. It was a calm evening, the sky above streaked with soft hues of orange and pink as the sun began its descent. The water was tranquil, barely a ripple as the boat gently swayed in the marina. Jake moved with ease, untying the ropes and readying the sails like he’d been doing it for years.

The boat began to glide smoothly away from the dock, and as they drifted farther from the shore, the tension she felt about his sailing skills began to melt away. The wind caught the sails, and Jake guided them through the water with confident hands on the helm, his focused expression softening as he glanced over at her.

“You’re really good at this,” she said, her voice full of genuine admiration. “I didn’t know you were hiding this talent.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

She leaned against the railing, watching the shoreline fade into the distance as the boat cruised farther out. The city’s lights grew faint, leaving only the sound of the water lapping against the boat and the breeze rustling the sails. It was peaceful—an entirely different world from the chaos and noise of everyday life. For the first time in a while, she felt truly relaxed.

Once Jake had guided them to a secluded spot far enough from the shore, he dropped the anchor, letting the boat gently float in place. He turned to her, the soft light from the setting sun casting a warm glow over them. Without a word, he moved toward her, his arm slipping around her waist as he led her to a cushioned spot on the deck. He sat down first, pulling her close until she was nestled against him, her back resting against his chest.

His arms wrapped securely around her, and she felt herself melting into his embrace, her body instinctively relaxing. She let out a quiet sigh of contentment, closing her eyes as the warmth of his body and the gentle rocking of the boat lulled her into a state of calm.

Jake pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there for a moment. She smiled at the gesture, her heart swelling with affection. Everything about this moment—the boat, the water, the fading sun—felt perfect. But most of all, it was him. It was the way he made her feel safe, cherished, and utterly content.

“You good?” he asked quietly, his voice low and soothing.

“Mhm,” she murmured, tilting her head back slightly so she could meet his eyes. “I’m really good.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to place another kiss on her forehead.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, his voice carrying a rare tenderness that she’d come to love.

For a long while, they sat there in comfortable silence, just listening to the sound of the water around them. Her eyes fluttered shut again, and she felt the gentle rise and fall of Jake’s chest beneath her. His arms tightened slightly around her, and she couldn’t help but think that this—being in his arms, away from everything else—was exactly where she wanted to be.

As the sky darkened, the stars beginning to peek out one by one, Jake spoke again, his voice rumbling in her ear.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed anything as much as this.”

She smiled, opening her eyes to look up at him. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect when you told me to trust you to plan the date.”

“And now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Now… I’m really glad I did.”

His smile widened, and he gave her a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing as they stayed close, neither of them wanting to break the moment.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because I plan on doing a lot more of this.”

They both laughed quietly, the sound mingling with the gentle splash of the water around them. As the boat rocked them in its gentle rhythm, she closed her eyes once again, allowing herself to fully sink into the warmth of Jake’s embrace. Wrapped in his arms, the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them and the infinite possibilities ahead.

After their peaceful time on the boat, Jake helped her back onto the dock with the same care and confidence he’d shown before. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in purples and deep blues as they made their way along the beach to her favorite restaurant. Nestled right by the water, the restaurant had an outdoor patio with string lights casting a soft, romantic glow over the tables. It was the perfect spot—casual yet intimate, just like the evening had been so far.

As they approached the entrance, Jake glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Still trust me to make the right calls?" he teased lightly.

She grinned, giving his hand a playful squeeze. "So far, you're doing great, Seresin. Don't get too cocky, though."

He chuckled, guiding her inside, where a hostess greeted them with a friendly smile and led them to a table near the edge of the patio. The sound of the waves was a constant backdrop, soothing and rhythmic, as they sat down and settled in. Jake pulled out her chair, and she couldn’t help but smile at the small chivalrous gesture.

Once they were seated, she looked out at the view, the beach just beyond, with the moon starting to reflect off the water. “You really went all out tonight,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Jake leaned back in his chair, looking entirely at ease as he smiled at her. “Nothing but the best for you.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she reached for the menu, trying to hide the flutter of butterflies that his simple words caused. As they browsed the menu, Jake snuck glances at her, admiring the way her eyes lit up when she looked over the options. The flickering candlelight between them added a romantic glow to the moment, and it wasn’t long before their waitress came to take their orders.

Once the waitress left, Jake leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table as he looked at her. “You know,” he began, his tone casual yet sincere, “I was thinking earlier... I’m pretty lucky.”

She raised an eyebrow, setting her menu aside. “Oh? How’s that?”

Jake’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing hers. “I get to do this with you. I mean, I know I’m a handful sometimes,” he said with a playful smirk, “but you still put up with me.”

Her heart swelled at his words. “You’re not a handful,” she said, smiling warmly. “Well, okay, maybe sometimes.” She laughed softly. “But tonight... this has been perfect, Jake.”

He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Good.”

They continued talking, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they discussed everything from their favorite childhood memories to places they wanted to travel. Jake kept the mood light, cracking jokes and teasing her with that signature charm, but every so often, his compliments would slip through, genuine and heartfelt.

“You look amazing tonight, by the way,” he said at one point, his eyes sweeping over her with unmistakable appreciation. “I think I forgot to mention that.”

She blushed, ducking her head slightly. “You didn't, but I’ll let you say it again,” she teased, glancing back up at him. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad?” he echoed, feigning offense as he placed a hand over his heart. “Darlin’, I’m crushed.”

She laughed, reaching out to nudge his hand playfully. “Okay, fine. You look great, Jake.”

“That’s more like it,” he said with a wink, his grin widening as he took another sip of his drink.

Their food arrived not long after, and as they started to eat, the conversation became more thoughtful. Jake asked her about her week, genuinely interested in the small details of her day-to-day life. She found herself opening up more than she expected, telling him about work, her friends, and even the things that had been stressing her out. And the entire time, Jake listened attentively, nodding along and offering reassurances whenever she expressed a worry or frustration.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” he remarked after she finished talking about a particularly hectic project. “I don’t know how you manage it all.”

She shrugged, smiling softly. “I guess I just take it one day at a time.”

Jake reached across the table again, his hand resting on top of hers. “Well, if you ever need someone to help take your mind off it... I’m here.”

There was something in the way he said it—sincere and steady—that made her heart skip a beat. She squeezed his hand in response, grateful for his support. “I know. And I really appreciate that, Jake.”

They lingered over dinner, savoring both the food and the company. The beachside restaurant had become more lively as the night progressed, but for the two of them, it felt like they were in their own little world. Jake continued to sprinkle in compliments throughout the meal, each one making her blush or smile. And the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the room—made her feel more special than she ever had before.

As they finished their meals, Jake leaned back in his chair, gazing out at the ocean for a moment before turning his attention back to her. “There’s one more thing we need to do tonight,” he said, his voice low and soft.

She tilted her head curiously. “What’s that?”

He stood up, offering his hand. “Come take a walk with me.”

She smiled, slipping her hand into his as she stood up. Together, they made their way down to the beach, the soft sand beneath their feet as the gentle sound of the waves filled the air. The moon had risen fully by now, casting a silvery light over the water, and the breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, her hand still in his as they strolled along the shoreline. Jake squeezed her hand occasionally, glancing over at her with a content smile. She couldn’t help but marvel at how thoughtful he’d been tonight—everything from the boat ride to the dinner to this peaceful walk had been perfectly planned.

“This is nice,” she murmured, breaking the silence. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Jake smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at her. “I remember you saying that,” he said, his voice warm. “Figured it was time to make that wish come true.”

She beamed at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just getting started,” he teased, nudging her playfully with his shoulder.

They continued walking until they reached a quieter part of the beach, where Jake suddenly stopped, turning to face her. There was a seriousness in his expression now, though the warmth and affection in his eyes remained.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his tone shifting.

Her heart skipped a beat, sensing the weight of whatever he was about to say. “What is it?”

Jake took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I got my next deployment,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m staying at North Island for at least the next year.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, a rush of emotions flooding her at once—relief, happiness, and excitement all mingling together. “Jake... that’s amazing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, taking a step closer to her. “It means we’ve got time, darlin’. Time to figure this out... you and me. No more rules or boundaries. Just us.”

She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Jake wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her close as they stood there, enveloped in each other’s warmth.

As they pulled back slightly, Jake pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then her nose, before finally capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. When they broke apart, their foreheads rested together, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

“I’m all in,” Jake whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination.

“So am I,” she whispered back, her heart full.

And in that moment, with the ocean stretching out before them and the stars above, everything felt right. It was just the two of them—together.

[cantstayawaycani]

Rafa Rafa Rafa papi chulo

I WANT HIS TOXIC ASS IN LOVE WITH ME AND KILLING ANY MAN THAT TOUCHES ME

THE WAY I WANT A MAN TO BE THIS OBSESSED AND IN LOVE WITH ME

THE WAY HE LOOKS SO GOOD AND DEADLY AND SEXY AND FUUUUUCCCCKKKK

IM FERAL

[rinniessance]

TEENAGE FEVER ༊*·˚ - suguru geto x fem!reader x satoru gojo

SUMMARY. you, satoru and suguru have been taking care of the fushiguro kids and the twins since your teenage days. after your latest mission, you reminisce about the beginnings of your little family. and during an impromptu trip, unspoken feelings finally come to a boil.

꒰ warnings: pure fluff! idiots in love. friends to lovers, mutual pining, family dynamics, non-canon compliant, megumi calls you mommy once ♡ // word count: 11.6k ꒱ ꒰ notes: another repost from my old account .ᐟ.ᐟ just really wanted to have this piece on my new blog <3 ꒱

sometimes you wonder why you agreed to be a part of madness that is the geto/gojo/you in a co-parenting throuple (you internally scream every time you remember how nonchalant satoru was about that description. what? i think that’s kind of adorable. you and suguru did not agree; somehow the name still stuck around). you would think that a pair of strongest sorcerers would be able to handle four first graders yet dozens of notifications that finally came through to your phone prove otherwise. your left eye twitches.

[ groupchat notifications: co-parenting throuple ] ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: girl dinner ! ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: [picture] sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: im sorry i wasn’t there to prevent the disaster sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: shall i prepare the casket?

messages are stamped two hours ago, and you’re too afraid to open the picture, dozens of different scenarios popping up in your head at the speed of light. when you finally unlock the messages, you think suguru was considerate enough to even suggest a casket because once you’re done with satoru gojo, there will be no body to bury.

you: you fed them cake for dinner ??      toru  /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: it’s sunday! they deserve a little treat!         sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: it’s a 12-inch cheesecake you responded: satoru, i know what you want to say, zip it. you’re in so much trouble already.

you: and why is it only you with the girls, where is megumi????      toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: and ‘gumi ate regular dinner like a child-man he is :<          you responded: it’s called a man-child satoru… toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: responded: no, megumi is a child-man because he has a soul of a man trapped in a body of a seven year old      sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: so you’re calling him benjamin button?           you responded: that’s why he doesn’t like either of you.

the frustration you felt towards satoru mere two minutes ago dissipates and gives space to something much warmer; the feeling that was tugging at you the whole weekend as you travelled to korea, sent away on a mission (you found yourself missing your little family more than you expected); the feeling that made you treating exorcising curses with utmost care because for the first time in a while, you want to come home safe. with a simple reminder of how lucky you’re to have satoru and suguru protecting the little piece of safe haven you carved out for yourselves; all the anger is gone as if it was never there in the first place.

you’re about to scroll through the earlier messages but flight attendant announces that the passengers are finally clear to get off the plane, so you shove the phone into your bag, grab your carry-on and hurry out. security check is surprisingly fast, and you’re riding a taxi back home in no time. you send a quick message to the group chat that you’re on your way and close your eyes.

quiet hum of the radio, steady movement of the car, and familiar surroundings immediately bring you peace – you’ve been feeling restless during your whole weekend trip, and now that you’re almost back with people you want to be with the most, you cannot help but smile. you’re being lulled to sleep by something pleasant playing on the radio, and your thoughts drift back to the day you found that being teenage parents can come in different forms.

3 years ago

you sigh again as you look at your watch. 4:23pm, satoru was supposed to be here 23 minutes ago. not only that, but he’s been ignoring your calls, not responding to your messages and did not tell anyone where he’s suddenly gone off to. suguru cannot be reached either, you know he has a mission today, so now you’re stranded in the middle of shibuya, your least favorite place to be, alone. you think this is the day you finally stab satoru gojo because he has the absolute nerve to beg you to come to this new dessert cafe, the one that just opened. supposedly, it was so good, you just have to try it - satoru convinced you to join him, knowing that you hate being in overcrowded spaces, only for to him to ghost you.

buzz of your phone brings you out of your thoughts.

[ incoming call: toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ ]

“i swear to god, satoru, you better have to save half the planet as an excuse or —”

“where are you?”

“what? what do you mean where am i? in shibuya, where we were supposed to meet almost 30 minutes ago!”

“we’re going back to the school now, come back as soon as you can.”

and then he hung up. you blankly stared at the screen of your phone like it would somehow explain what just happened. with a deep sigh, you put the phone away and massage your temples, feeling the headache coming. satoru gojo might be the one who’s getting migraines from having six eyes but he always makes sure you have one too, just for the company.

ride back to the school is quick and easy – thankfully you’re in time to beat the rush hour, and currently, you’re standing in front of tokyo high. now that you’ve had time to calm your anger and frustration down, you realize that gojo would’ve at least texted you if he was late. something must’ve happened, and you feel panic start spreading its icy tentacles all over your body. picking up the pace, you almost run through the courtyard, pass the temple decorum and straight to doctor’s office – you assume he would be there if something happened.

you finally stand in front of the door: your breathing is heavy and you’re dizzy from how fast you sped up. the horrors of last year’s mission flash before your eyes, painting it blood, sorrow and anger, and you pray to every god known that it’s not a repeat of that failure. you almost lost suguru to the darkness that preyed on him, stalking his shadows, seeping through his skin – you are still haunted by how hollow his eyes became. you’re sure seeing him like this again will break you instead this time. you try to steady your breathing and knock.

“you can come in.”

of course satoru would know you were here. pushing the door and walking into the room, you are met by two little girls sitting on each suguru’s side on the hospital bed. satoru is standing next to them and observing his best friend who is gently murmuring something to the twins. both of them look unharmed which means shoko already worked her magic if it was necessary. it seems none of you want to bring up the elephant in the room so you just take a sit in the chair next to the desk.

“what happened?” your voice sounds loud in the hushed murmurs bouncing off the wall, and all four pairs of eyes are directed at you. it seems you startled the girls as they grabbed onto suguru’s sleeves – you cannot help but stretch your lips in a pretty smile, waving to them. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you tell them in a hushed tone this time, “would you tell me your names if i told you mine?”

brunette twin shakes her head for the both of them, and you introduce yourself. same girl responds to your curiosity.

“i am mimiko, and we’ve never met our parents but i know i am older by 5 minutes. and this,” she points at the girl on the opposite side of suguru, “is nanako. she is always a little shy so i make sure to talk for the both of us!” blonde girl curls a little more into your friend, and you finally make eye contact with him. you’re a little lost by what you see – hurt, anger, tenderness, confusion, he looks so defeated yet relieved at the same time. you’re turning to look at satoru instead but he only shrugs his shoulders.

“don’t look at me, he didn’t really share any details with me either.”

you hum in response and get up from the chair, walking to where the hospital bed is and squat to face them, extending your hand.

“well, it’s really nice to meet you, mimiko and nanako,” and as you get a little closer to their face, you whisper as it’s meant to be a secret, “i think we’ll become really good friends.”

from what satoru told you, it seems that him and suguru hadn’t had a chance to talk yet – girls looked very attached to dark-haired man already, it’s most likely they wouldn’t leave his side and whatever gojo wanted to discuss was not meant for children’s ears. you’re too scared to overstep the friendship boundary you just started building with the girls but you know the look on your friends’ faces, and they tell you they need to have a serious and most likely unpleasant conversation (not too hard to guess what about). standing up, you tentatively reach out your hands to nanako and mimiko.

“have you ever tried crepes? there is a very good place that sells them nearby. what do you say if we go and grab some dessert, just us girls?”

you could see their eyes lit up as they looked back at suguru, looking for a confirmation you’re safe to go with. he smiled at them (that smile that sometimes makes your heart skip a beat and makes you yearn for something you know you could never have), making wrinkles appear in the corner of his crescent-like eyes.

“she is my friend, you can go with her. i’ll meet you in a little bit,” and as he looked back at you, he mouthed quiet “thank you”. you only smiled in return: suguru never needed to thank you, not after the near escape to hell you guided him away from; not after the sleepless nights you spent keeping him a quiet company on the rooftops of jujutsu tech because silence was everything he needed in those moments; not after tight embraces you had to hold him in when you witnessed a sliver of panic attack creeping up on him when he least expected it. in the year that followed the disastrous star plasma vessel mission, you were the light that guided suguru back to himself, back to satoru, back to you. geto didn’t need to say thank you, at least not to you, not anymore.

grabbing two little girls by their hands, you lead them out of school.

“i promise you we will have the best time.”

present

the particular rough bump of the car brings you back to the present moment. you look at the time on your phone, display showing 11:23pm, and you smile looking at the picture on your lockscreen: it’s a picture of satoru with nanako and mimiko, their mouths stuffed full of crepes.

after suguru decided to take the girls in, you and satoru made it a habit of coming over and helping him take care of them. geto and gojo used to be inseparable but the rift that broke in between them in the year that followed amanai riko’s death was a surprise. being close to both strongest sorcerers, you knew why it was there, you knew the sheer trauma of it for both of them. so you stayed with gojo when he needed you to keep reminding him that his shoulders do not have to carry the weight of the whole world, and you’re here to share it. and you stayed with geto when he was plunged into the coldness of heart-wrenching guilt and needed you to pull him out from under the deep. after suguru adopted nanako and mimiko, you were the bridge that crossed a seemingly bottomless crevice between the two of them.

making satoru see what he was missing with suguru’s behavour at the time and asking suguru to understand why satoru was seemingly oblivious to it in the first place – the confusion, the pain, the loss of innocence, and everything unsaid that went on between them – was almost as difficult as being a sorcerer in the first place. by a miracle, you stopped being their overpass as they started rebuilding their bridges themselves. yet, the connection you weaved with the sacred geometry of your hands between the three of you created a special bond that prevailed until this day.

unlocking your phone, you scroll through the earlier messages in the chat: messages that kids already miss you (sent 30 minutes after your plane took off on friday), stories about their successful disneyworld trip on saturday (traitors, you think, you’ve been begging them for a family outing there for months now), and cake-baking adventures today (you internally dread the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the kitchen). looking back at you from your home screen is the picture of megumi and tsumiki on their first day of school, proud suguru holding both their hands (megumi refused to hold satoru’s hand so he refused to be in the picture – sometimes you wonder who is the older out of the two). warmth takes over your entire being once again, and you allow yourself to recollect the memories of how the last pieces of your family all came together.

2 years ago

“i am going to meet with that kid fushiguro was talking about before he, you know,” and satoru dramatically slashed his neck with his finger, poking his tongue out, imitating a dead face. nanako and mimiko laughed from the opposite side of the table while you kicked him on the shin.

“please, satoru, i didn’t sign up to babysit three kids. eat your breakfast, i need to get girls to pre-school, we can talk about it once i’m back.”

“what if i drive you? and then we can go grab kikufuku from the new place that opened near shinjuku station, i heard it’s really good.”

“satoru, it’s 7am in the morning. unlike you, i am a normal human being who cannot possibly consume that much sugar this early. and,” you lean in closer and whisper so the girls cannot hear, “please don’t say stuff like this in front of the twins, they will think it’s normal to be asking for dessert at this ungodly hour.”

satoru thinks it’s adorable, how you huff and puff at the girls like a mother hen. ever since the girls started living with suguru, you made it your mission to come over at least once a week to make sure they have everything they need – and nanako and mimiko, as they once confessed to geto, love your presence. after everything they’ve been through, the girls learned to recognize the intention behind people’s auras, and yours only gave them peace. and, unbeknownst to them at this tender age, they have craved peace for a very long time. so he bites his tongue and keeps the snarky remark he wanted to say, instead quietly whispering “sorry”, and you appreciate the gesture that may seem small to another, but speaks volume to yourself.

“fine. we will be leaving in,” you look at the watch, squinting and thinking about how much time you have left, “30 minutes, make sure you’re ready or we’re leaving without you.”

you let the twins finish their breakfast and rush both of them to brush their teeth before you prep their outfits. suguru was sent out on a mission for the whole week (you worry; satoru tells you that with how much you worry about everyone and everything, you’ll be grayer than him in couple of years) and asked you to stay with the girls until he returns. you won’t lie – you’ve grown attached to them within the short amount of time you’ve been helping taking care of them so you agreed to babysit in a millisecond.

you didn’t expect that a third child will be living with you all this week too.

“why don’t i get my outfit chosen for me?” you feel satoru before you can even hear him, the never-ending reach of his limitless tingling your senses, rushing the goosebumps up your spine (this is totally normal, right? friends make other friends feel like this, right?). and you wish he would only be the omniscient presence that makes your knees weak because as soon as he opens his mouth, you want to roll your eyes and smack the back of his head. you learned to treat him like a child, if he wanted to behave like one.

 “because mommy is busy and you’re old enough to do it on your own.”

satoru did not expect you to say that, sudden blush rushing to his face making his thoughts drift in a direction incredibly inappropriate for a friend. great. you’re so gross, satoru. he suddenly turned away and rushed out from the bedroom (if you had more time, you would’ve asked him what his deal was but alas, you were already running late). then he proceeded to stay quiet the whole morning: while you were getting nanako and mimiko dressed, while he was driving all of you to school, while you waved goodbye to the girls and made your way back to the car. the phrase kept running through his mind the whole time until you cleared your throat and looked at him with your brow raised.

“what’s gotten into you? you’ve been suspiciously quiet the whole morning. didn’t you want to talk about something?”

he forced all the wrong thoughts to stay hidden for now, patted them away like crows nibbling at the forbidden nerves of his sudden need. he cleared his throat and started driving away from the school, not knowing where he was taking the two of you yet.

“uh, yeah. i was telling you that i am going to meet with the fushiguro kid tomorrow.”

“okay… and?”

“and what?”

“what are you going to do?”

megumi fushiguro was discussed among you before, but no concrete decision was ever reached. what if the kid doesn’t even want to go with him? he won’t be able to drag him by force unless he wants to be accused of child abduction.

“i don’t know. if he does want to come with me, i have the resources to keep him out of whatever deal his father cooked up for him with the zen’in clan. but if he doesn’t… by the time he realizes what zen’ins are, and if he ever wants to leave, it’ll be too late,” satoru clicks his tongue at the mention of one of the three big families. it’s no secret gojo clan has not seen eye-to-eye with zen’ins for a long time now but for satoru, it’s personal.

“you know, if you decide to take him in, it’s not like one more child will really make a difference. you’ll just have to stop coming around and it’s like nothing changed,” the words come out of you with such levity, satoru sometimes thinks you don’t even realize that your presence alone can make a wilted flower spring back to life.

he can only laugh in response. you haven’t even met the kid and you already welcome him like it’s nothing to worry about. gojo always wanted to compare you to the sun, the stars or any other celestial being that shines so brightly, they illuminate every shadow in their reach. but as the time passed, he realized that he didn’t want you to be a sun, or a star – then he will have to share your light with everyone else. no, you’re a flame in the home’s fireplace, warm and inviting to anyone who’s welcomed into your humble abode but lost to everyone else.

“you say that now. let’s see what happens when i show up with two kids instead of one.”

present

the memory makes you chuckle. sometimes you wonder if he knew megumi had a sister because when he did show up with two kids instead of a promised one, you swore he looked as smug as ever.

as the time went on, spreading yourself thin between going to university (you said you wanted to finish your degree in case your career as a sorcerer doesn’t work out), helping out geto and gojo on their missions when they asked you, and helping take care of both suguru’s girls and fushiguro siblings was proving to be too much. so satoru, for all his seemingly unlimited resources, decided that buying a house and living all together will be better. you knew that it was easier to move a mountain than change gojo’s mind once it’s been set on something so you didn’t argue. to no one’s surprise, living together for all of you came as naturally as breathing. who said a family cannot be three barely functioning not-even-yet adults and their four adopted children?

the familiar silhouette of home comes into view, and you sigh with relief. when the cab stops, you pay the driver, grabbing your things and rushing our the car. it’s the moments like this you envy satoru’s teleportation ability though you will never admit it to him out loud, lest you inflate his ego even more. you’re barely able to step away from the gates when the front door to the house swings open and you see the person you were just thinking about poking his head out.

“need a hand?”

gojo is as cheerful as ever, and you cannot help but smile back, lips stretching in that tired way he finds almost domestic, and he feels something prick inside him. not now. you want to say something back, but you’re interrupted by the sound of little footsteps running past satoru, towards you.

“you’re back, you’re back!” nanako and mimiko are the first rushing to greet you, with tsumiki hot on their tail. you see megumi standing in the doorframe trying to pat away satoru’s hand resting on top of his head as he comes out to greet you as well.

“oh my god, ‘toru, what are they still doing up, it’s past 12am!” you redirect your attention to the kids instead. “what are you little rascals still doing up, uh? just because you don’t have school tomorrow doesn’t mean you don’t have a sleeping schedule anymore!”

“gojo-san and geto-san said we can stay up today!”

“3 years later and you’re still the only one they call by your first name,” you hear suguru before you can see him: he is standing on the opposite side of megumi, letting the kid hide behind his leg to get away from gojo’s assault on his hair. you smile at them and decide there is no point of staying mad at them any longer.

the men help you to bring your bags inside, and you collapse on the couch as soon as you pass the threshold of your home.

“how was your trip?” megumi asks as he slowly crawls to sit on your right side. out of all the kids, megumi was the hardest to read – for a child his age, he was overly perceptive and did feel almost like an adult at times. what did satoru call him? a child-man, that’s right.

“it was good, ‘gumi. ‘m just tired now. how was your weekend? i saw someone took you to disneyworld when i was asking for it the whole time,” you said, raising your voice at the later part of the sentence so it can reach gojo and geto’s ears from where they were in the kitchen. you could only hear a light chuckle back.

“it was so fun! mimiko was scared of the ride we went on, but i was so brave!” nanako’s eyes twinkled with so much joy, you really wish you witnessed the moment yourself. satoru was right all those years ago, you were a mother hen back then, you’re a mother hen now.

“no, i wasn’t! tsumiki was scared more!”

“why are you lying? no, i wasn’t!”

 “ay, ay! i’m sure all of you were equally brave. now, can you tell me why you stayed up this late?” you finally sit everyone down, satoru and suguru joining you with freshly brewed tea, and think this is the most at peace you’ve ever felt.

“we were waiting for you…” tsumiki shyly confesses on behalf of everyone.

“oh,” your vision gets blurry and you feel pearly beads of tears pool in the corner of your eyes before quickly blinking them away.

“ughhh, you cute little puppies, i just want to eat you up,” you say before anyone can question your tears and pull all of the kids into a bear hug. time is late, however, so you make a quick work of tucking everyone into bed now that they’ve seen you. you say your goodnights and leave their rooms.

“do we not get a hug now?” satoru asks, wearing his signature smirk, and you want to clap back with a retort of your own, chastise them for letting the kids eat cake for dinner and stay up past midnight, or remind them that they are not seven years old anymore; but the car trip and the memories you revisited bring out something nostalgic in you making you slowly walk up to satoru and hug him instead. he is taken aback at first but gojo has always been good at recovering from momentary stupor so he’s pulling you back into a hug in no time.

“you two are rude,” comes from suguru’s side and as soon as you’re untangling yourself from gojo, you’re walking up to the raven-haired sorcerer to do the same.

“i missed you two idiots.”

“we missed you too.”

the silence stretches across the room but it’s comforting and inviting, like an old friend who hasn’t visited in a while, enveloping the three of you in its embrace. you look at the clock on the wall, showing you 1:05am, and suddenly your whole body feels heavy.

“sorry guys, i think the trip is finally showing its signs… i am so tired, don’t even have energy to take a shower,” you say and groan in disgust. you hate going to bed without washing the grime of the day off your body but the fatigue is clinging onto your skin like humid air. “i’m going to bed now, see you guys tomorrow.”

“good night.”

“sleep well.”

and if you paid closer attention, you would’ve noticed the deep seated longing in the men’s gazes, the one that you sometimes have to hide from them too; you would’ve noticed how suguru’s hand is following yours long after you’re out of their sight, and how satoru’s tongue darted out to wet his lips when you were pressed against him, even if for a second; you would’ve noticed that the feelings you’ve been trying to push deep down for your two best friends are reflected all the same somewhere in the constellation of their eyes.

next morning you wake up as a result of someone laughing your name and jumping on your bed. sunlight is peaking through the curtains, making sun bunnies dance on the walls of your room and kiss your cheeks. you try to open your eyes but your head feels heavy like you’ve just fallen asleep and you struggle to make out your surroundings – feeling disoriented first thing in the morning is definitely your least favorite thing. you groan softly and finally force yourself to lift your eyelids – as you do so, you’re met with two little girls using your bed as a make-shift trampoline.

“wake up! wake up! gojo-san and geto-san told us we will be leaving to go to the sea in an hour!” and they swiftly left, just as quickly as they had come in, leaving you to stare up at the ceiling in confusion.

“uh?”

once the words really settled in, you’re getting up from the bed in record time and putting on the first clothes you lay your eyes on. you find the strongest duo already up and ready. all of the kids, worryingly, also look like they are ready to leave the house, and there are bags near the door with both satoru and suguru looking too smug not to be suspicious about it.

“what is going on here?” you ask from the doorway that connects the hallway leading to your rooms to the kitchen. “why am i hearing that we’re going to the sea, and why are you dressed like this?”

“well,” satoru starts, “because we are going to the sea so we’re wearing appropriate clothing. you’re the only one who’s still not dressed.

you close your eyes and massage the bridge of your nose. mentally you douse whatever feelings you were having for these idiots yesterday.

“why am i hearing about this only now?”

“surprise?..”

“i know it’s last minute, but satoru made a promise to drive so you can relax in the car while we’re on the way there. just get ready and we can leave right after,” suguru says from his place on the couch, and you cannot help but sigh deeply and return to your room to shower and quickly pack.

when you’re out of earshot, geto shoots gojo a look.

“what are you planning, satoru?”

“why would i be planning anything? she’s been really stressed recently, and then the higher ups have the audacity to send her away for a whole weekend and give you a mission that took your whole sunday at the same time she was sent away. i was overworked the week before that. sometimes it feels like they are doing this on purpose. so maybe we should all disappear for a couple of days with no way of contacting us, maybe they’ll stop pestering us like we’re the only sorcerers available.”

“very mature of you, ‘toru.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

the two of them finish packing the last of the food that gojo bought in the morning while waiting for you. reserving a spot this late in one of the most popular vacation spots in japan was hard, but nothing is impossible when you’re satoru gojo.

you’re ready in record time, and the kids are all yelling and arguing about who is going to sit where. you need to intervene and say you will be sitting in the back of suv with nanako and mimiko, while mugumi and tsumiki agreed to sit in the middle row; suguru is riding shotgun and satoru has agreed to be your driver for the ride. unsurprisingly, not even an hour out of the city, the car is filled with snoring as the kids fell asleep shortly after you started driving. you feel yourself getting drowsy, closing your eyes and swearing you will only sleep for a moment. however, the next time you open them, you’re informed by suguru that all of you are already halfway through the trip.

“oh my god, i can’t believe i slept for that long,” you mumble through a voice heavy with drowsiness. “i think it’s best if we stop somewhere now, i’ll wake the kids up so they can eat quickly and pee. i suggest we all do it.”

“yeah, i think it would be best, i don’t know if we will have the opportunity to stop any time soon,” satoru agrees with you, and the drive continues for 20 more minutes until you’re stopping at the gas station. you gently wake the kids up and let them know that they need to have a snack and go to the restroom (time is 11:20am and they should be able to fall asleep again with no issues after that).

“how much longer do you think we have to drive?” you ask satoru as he is refilling the gas tank. you’re watching suguru watch the kids where they are running around nearby.

“maybe 2.5-3 hours, depending on the traffic.”

“did something happen during the weekend?”

“no, why would you ask?”

“hm…” you quickly hum, “this is all too sudden for it to be spontaneous.”

“oh, common, don’t be like that. i just think the little family of ours needs a mini vacation, that is all.”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, gojo can feel the blush creeping up all the way to his ears and he clears his throat, walking away. you don’t know what makes you giggle more – the way he admits that whatever it is you have, he also sees it as a family, or the way the confession makes him feel embarrassed. you observe him preparing to get into the driver’s seat – sometimes you wonder what is happening in that handsome head of his. you glance at suguru and wonder if he would have a better guess.

gojo lets you know that you’re good to depart again. the second part of the trip is as chaotic as you would imagine it go and you give up on trying to make kids to go back to sleep. instead, you’re breaking up the fights between almost everyone: nanako and mimiko argue about their friendship bracelets across from you; you keep having to remind gojo that he is indeed an adult in this situation while he wants to continue arguing with megumi; and suguru somehow breaks the AC so the last 30 minutes of the drive everyone is suffering in silence.

once you finally pull up to the little vacation house gojo somehow procured at the last moment, you’re already feeling at your limit: you need the sun and to dive into warm water before you start losing your hair.

geto helps you with the bags while gojo unloads everything into the kitchen – you’re not sure how long you’re staying here for but the amount of food they brought will last you a nuclear winter. the children are excited about their rooms, and you must keep reminding them to be careful and to not run into any corners despite their enthusiasm. you help them unpack and choose outfits for the day – it’s been decided in the car that you will be going to the beach as soon as you’re settled.

everyone is ready in half an hour – you helped the girls get into their swimming suits, while megumi insisted he can do it himself (you suggested geto or gojo help him, but he closed the door in their faces and didn’t come out until he was done). both men were already waiting by the door with the picnic bags and beach essentials – you had to admit they looked a little too good, making a knot twist in your stomach.

satoru was dressed in a simple white button up that matched his hair and a pair of navy swim trunks. maybe he was right, this trip was long overdue for all three of you, as gojo looked more relaxed and at peace than you’ve seen him in a while. his lips were stretch into a lazy smile and his eyes, unobstructed by the glasses or a blindfold, had a glint of mischief that reminded you of a 16 year-old boy you met all those years ago. he tried his best to style his white unruly hair but the surrounding humidity only made it frizzier.

gojo makes it seem almost effortless, with how good he looks, and maybe part of it is true – despite never admitting it out loud, you know he won the genetic lottery when it came to his appearance. but you also know that satoru has an unrelenting skin care routine (because you buy your products together); that he asks what you think about his outfits even though you keep repeating you should be the last person he asks for fashion advice (don’t worry about it, princess, your opinion is the only one that matters anyways and you hate how your heart clenches at these words); and that he spends 45 minutes taking his showers. but what gojo doesn’t know is that you adore him the most first thing in the morning – eyes so sleepy he can barely keep them open, voice gruff and low asking what’s for breakfast, wearing his sleeping gray sweatpants and nothing else. and he will never know lest you want to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to build between the three of you.

you moved your eyes away from gojo to where suguru was leaning on the door. he was wearing a blue hawaiian shirt with the three top buttons popped off, paired with simple black swimming shorts. his hair was put into a perfect manbun, however, unrelenting bangs always make themselves known untangled from the rest of his locks. you noticed it back when you were teenagers and got used to carrying bobby pins for him – he somehow always leaves them at home (you will never admit but you love the fact that he always forgets them – it gives you another reason to run your fingers through his hair) – and this habit stayed with you all the way into adulthood. while satoru was handsome in a regal way, suguru was all sharp edges that made him look almost dangerous – pronounced jaw, pointy nose, almost cat-like eyes; the kind of beauty that always makes you weak in the knees.

“see something you like?” satoru’s voice takes you out of your daydream and, shamefully, you realize you’ve been standing in the corridor doorway, gawking at them like it’s your first time seeing their faces. you only groan in response and roll your eyes, trying to hide the blush that adores your neck and flushes your cheeks red.

“if i saw something i like, i would’ve told you,” and you stick your tongue out. liar.

“are you feeling well? you look a little red, maybe you got a fever?” comes from suguru’s side now as he tries to reach for your forehead but you swat his hand away.

“ugh, i hate both of you.” liar. they only laugh when you rush past them, megumi and nanako on either side of you holding your hands while tsumiki sits on satoru’s shoulders and mimiko takes her rightful place on suguru’s back.

“whatever you say, sweetheart.”

the way to the beach is short and sweet, your attention is fully dedicated to megumi and nanako as they re-tell you the stories from their weekend. ‘gumi won a plushy and gave it to mimiko because she asked him to play in the first place, and tsumiki, apparently, had the highest score in the game where you punch a bag to see how strong you are. nanako says that helping satoru bake the cheesecake on sunday was her favorite part of the weekend, and you make a mental note to let her help you the next time you do it.

from behind you, geto and gojo observe your interactions with the kids, each of them in their own thoughts, yet both mulling over the same thing – you, letting tsumiki and mimiko chat between themselves.

neither of them thought you would become a constant in their lives when they decided to take in the kids – after all, none of you were in a relationship, despite their feelings for you, and you had no obligations to be giving them so much of your time. but as the time went on, all three of you fell into a comfortable routine that was both a blessing and a curse – they couldn’t confess that the boyish crush they had on you in your teenage years not only endured but blossomed into something so much more. that something kept growing inside their ribcages, weaving and building a home there, rooting itself so deep, they forgot what life was like before you offered them your light.

satoru and suguru only discussed this once between each other. the unspoken feelings they had not only for you but also for each other made already complex situation even more complicated. the fear of damaging the carefully built dynamic between the three of you was overwhelming - so overwhelming in fact, both agreed to never speak of this again. pandora’s box was sealed, and only you behold the power to open it. the strongest duo knows why this little box of wonders needs to be locked far away from them - however, it’s moments like this, when megumi asks to be carried in your hands (even though he’s getting too big for that) while nanako clenches your hand harder and you indulge both of them without a moment’s delay, that make them wish you knew: knew how much suguru adores the little tilt to your head when you’re confused about something, knew how much satoru loves smoothing out the wrinkles on your head when you’re deep in the thought, knew how both of them yearn for your laugh after a long day.

the cute white bikini you’re wearing is definitely not helping the ever-running thoughts two men are trying so hard to push down. it’s not the first time the absolute indecency of their desire is sparked by the slight bounce of your tits and the swing of your hips. memories of countless times they had to take an extra shower in the morning because you would show up in the kitchen in one of their shirts, without a bra, nipples hard and visible through a thin fabric, should make them feel embarrassed, yet the shame never comes. when did the longing for you start feeling so right?

as the years progressed, this dance the three of you did around each other became familiar, and none of you dared to switch the melody.

sometimes you wish you were brave enough to do it.

“look, look, we’re finally here!” mimiko yells from suguru’s back and then instructs him to put her down. nanako lets go of your hand as tsumiki’s climbing down satoru’s shoulders, and three girls run away towards the sea.

“be careful! you still need to put your sunscreen, don’t run away too far!” you move your attention to the little boy you released from your hold as you entered the beach, “‘gumi, you’re not going with them?”

you wiggle his arm back and forth (his hand is so tight in yours, gripping now harder than before) but he refuses to look at you so you don’t push.

“did you forget he doesn’t know how to swim?” satoru says from behind you, and you shoot him a look. god, was he purposefully trying to rile megumi? fushiguro only digs his fingers further into your hand, and you honestly want to bite satoru’s head off.

“that’s okay, baby, i’m sure your dad needed support of his whole clan when he was trying to learn how to swim.”

“he is not my dad.”

your brain goes blank for a second, and you hope satoru did not hear what you just said (he did; but he thinks he’ll spare you the further embarrassment; he also doesn’t want to admit that it makes his stomach turn in a way he wish it wouldn’t).

“you’re right, dummy like him could never be your dad.”

you find the spot not too far from where the girls are playing, and you help geto and gojo set up the blankets and umbrellas. while they are making sure none of it flies away with the first gust of the wind, you search for the sunscreen in your bag.

“girls! come here, we need to put sunscreen on you!”

you hear the tatter of 6 feet rushing towards you, trying to get first in line so they can all get back to playing in the water. you hand satoru and suguru two other tubes you brought.

“help me to put this on them. i think if we don’t do it in the next minute, they will actually explode,” you say, smiling at how impatient tsumiki is being in front of you as she keeps bouncing on her legs. before you start on the sunscreen, you turn her so her back is facing you and let her hair out of the ponytail as you try to retie it. she winces a bit and lets out a small ouch.

“’m sorry baby, didn’t meant to hurt you, you okay?” you ask as you rub on the roots of her hair.

“yeah, i’m okay!” she exclaims loudly, making you giggle. once her bun is all set in place, you quickly put the sunscreen on her whole body, finishing with the face, and boop her nose. tsumiki scrunches it in her adorable way, and you feel your heart swell with joy and love.

once the girls run off again, suguru comes up to you with the tube of sunscreen in hands.

“don’t you think you need a little help too?”

the smile adorning his face is so sweet, he doesn’t realize the summersaults it’s making your heart to do. and when you think about those hands on your shoulders, on your back, going lower where you want them most, you realize you actually might be burning up. but you can’t come up with an excuse fast enough not to let him do it so, without any words lest you’ll be embarrassing yourself, you just turn around and present him your back.

geto start slowly with your shoulders, squeezing the tube and spreading the sunscreen on your soft skin. you swear you can hear him sharply inhale, and your heart involuntarily skips a beat. you let yourself wonder, just for a second, how these hands would feel on the parts of your body where you want them most, if geto would be as gentle squeezing your breasts and tugging at your nipples. and when his hands start travelling lower, caressing the space between your shoulder blades and running his fingers down your spine, you wonder if his long digits would reach the spot inside your gummy walls that you’re unable to find yourself. you absolutely lose yourself to the indecent thoughts when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your lower back. that man, you think, if only he knew what he was doing. it takes all of your willpower to prevent yourself from moaning out loud and not tremble at his mere touch. you want to lean back and tilt your head to the side so geto can leave a trail of wet kisses on the side of your neck, following the curve of it to your jaw, and capture your lips in a way that only lovers can.

you can feel your skin grow hot and your white bikini better not show how embarrassingly wet you got from your best friend’s touch. you’re so sick, you think to yourself and before it becomes any worse, you’re untangling yourself from suguru’s arms and call out for megumi.

“i… uh… will go swim with him, don’t want him to get bored,” you breathlessly whisper as if too afraid to speak any louder, and call out to the boy.

“‘gumi, common! grab your floaties and we’ll go play a little further away from the girls,” you wait for him to grab his stuff, and you notice one of his rare smiles – he never hid the fact that you were his favorite out of three adults, and he always feels a little smug when your undivided attention is on him. satoru shoots him a knowing look which megumi successfully ignores, clinging to you.

you pass the girls as you show them the direction you’re taking megumi in and they all say “okay!” at the same time like it’s rehearsed. mimiko, nanako and tsumiki are in a competition to see who can gather the most seashells and are left under the attentive gaze of gojo and geto. you help megumi put his floaties on and gather him into your arms so you can walk a little deeper: once you’re satisfied with the distance, you try to let him go but he is attached to you like a baby koala.

“common ‘gumi, i promise i won’t let you go, okay? i’ll be right here in case you need help, and i’ll be also holding onto you the whole time.”

fushiguro only violently shakes his head, not wanting to be in the water by himself. you wonder where this fear comes from and think you’ll have to revisit it later. you don’t push any further, and hug him closer, running a smoothing hand on his back while he puts his head on your shoulder. you squat a little to help him get adjusted to the temperature, and he shrieks from the sudden rush of water above his waist while hugging you tighter, almost choking you. laughter bubbles in your throat but you don’t want to make megumi feel worse than he already does so you try your best not to let it out.

“hey, baby, it’s okay. i am holding you, yeah?” and as you say that, you try to push him away from you one more time, to let him experience the ocean by himself but he only tightens his hold as a sign he is not moving away. so you resign to gently swaying with him in the water, letting the salty waves wash around you. you can feel the sunlight dancing on your skin, warm breeze carrying all your worries away, if just for a moment, and you close your eyes allowing yourself to take all of it in. megumi’s head is pleasantly heavy on your shoulder, and you walk little bit further away from the beach until you bump into someone.

“oh, i am so sorry!” you instantly apologize and turn around. what you don’t expect is to be met with the pair of the most beautiful green eyes you see (your mind involuntarily goes to gojo and how even these emerald eyes pale to comparison to the infinity carried by his gaze). you think if your heart didn’t belong to the two most annoying human beings you’ve ever had a pleasure of encountering, you would’ve fallen head over hills right here, right now.

“please, no need to apologize.”

surprise number two: this stranger is not only handsome, but also has a voice that makes you want to do whatever he asks you to, as long as he keeps talking to you. and again, you think how unfortunate of you to fall in love with two people you can’t have when men like this walk around for free.

he smiles when his attention falls to megumi - little boy appears not to be happy with this encounter. who does this man thinks he is? maybe megumi didn’t want to learn how to swim, it doesn’t mean that he is willing to share you when he just got you away from two men on the beach (he is not old enough to rationalize that what he is feeling is jealousy; you never noticed but, geto and gojo excluded, he never liked how other men talk to you in the first place).

a handsome stranger doesn’t seem taken aback by the attitude from megumi, and for a seven-year-old, your little boy has a mean death stare.

“he is very cute, what is his name?”

“he’s megumi,” you give him your name as well and extend the arm for introduction. before a man can even respond, megumi is tugging your arm away and whines, speaking loud enough for satoru and suguru to hear, who, unbeknownst to you, have been watching the interaction this whole time (spoiler – they are not very happy about it but proud of the kid, truly an oscar-worthy performance).

“mommy, i want to learn how to swim now!”

you think you heard him wrong – he has never called you this before. if it happened any other time, you think you would’ve cried tears of happiness. now it only makes you feel stupor. how does he even know to call you mommy in this situation? megumi has always been the most well-behaved one out of all four kids, the disbelief at his attitude is written all over your face. what is he playing at?

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize he was your kid,” the man says but hurries to add, “i adore children though; i work at a pre-school. hi megumi, my name is rei.”

the boy looks at the outstretched hand the man offered like it personally offended him. all of a sudden, he points to the beach where satoru and suguru seat and announces, yet again loud enough for them to hear.

“my daddies are just right there!”

what happened to “he’s not my dad?” you think in panic.

you’re not sure if gojo and geto can hear the full conversation, but they wave back at you anyways. rei moves his gaze from you to megumi to two men on the beach, trying to decide if he should believe it or not. you, on the other hand, are speechless and currently wishing someone would be kind enough to curse you right now, or for the ground to split and swallow you whole with how hot and embarrassed you feel. megumi is so grounded today. you can feel the inner temperature rise to the inappropriate levels, feeling like a kettle that is about to overheat – you don’t wait for rei’s response while saying awkward “bye, nice meeting you!” and rushing away.

“welcome back, mommy,” satoru teases when you settle back at your spot. megumi is sitting on the opposite side of you, munching on the watermelon like he didn’t just make an absolute fool out of you in front of a random man. you try your best to ignore satoru, but his comment only makes you groan, sound almost bordering a sob.

“please, for the love of everything holy, don’t say another word. i bet it was you who put this idea into his head.”

“you know as well as we do that you can’t make megumi do anything he doesn’t want to,” gojo responds with the knowing smirk, and you only sink into yourself further. your face is burning up, and now you think it’s not because megumi’s whole afternoon mission was apparently to embarrass you in front of a stranger but because of what he said. the shock of the moment is finally dissipating, instead giving the space to indescribable tenderness. you will have to cry about it later on your own so to save yourself further shame, you hide your face behind your hat and lay down, contemplating how this one simple word somehow turned all of your insides upside down.

what you fail to notice is the proud smile satoru shoots to megumi, mouthing “good job” and suguru passing him his favorite candy knowing he’s not allowed to eat it before dinner.

you feel absolutely drained. after the incident with megumi, you stayed in the same position until the kids started complaining that they were hungry. the sun is getting low, painting the skies ochre and pink, giving everyone its glowing kiss. you dare to peek at satoru and suguru, and they looked almost ethereal – sunshine dancing on satoru’s white eyelashes as he dries tsumiki with a towel and nodding enthusiastically at the collection of shells she is showing him, while suguru tries to untie nanako’s wet hair so he can wrap a towel around it. mimiko slowly drags her legs towards you, poor girl absolutely exhausted, and as soon as you open your arms to embrace her with a towel of her own, she plops against you and almost momentarily falls asleep.

suguru offers to carry her home, but you wave him off, asking to grab megumi’s hand instead.

“i am not cooking once we get home, we better buy food now or we can drive into the city.”

“ugh, i don’t think i have the strength to drive,” satoru whines like he is the youngest out of the bunch. “let’s just buy something here, it smells pretty good.”

suguru only hums in agreement, listening to nanako and tsumiki argue about who got the most shells (both fail to count their shells correctly), and with that, your dinner plans are decided with satoru ordering your food from the stall nearby.

“what do we say when someone gets you food?”

“thank you, gojo-san!” three little voices echo each other, and you’re surprised even megumi joined in. the way back home is quick as you’re standing in front of your door in no time.

“oh my god, my legs are killing me,” you complain as you pass the threshold of the house. mimiko has been sleeping in your arms the whole way back, and you don’t know if you should wake her up and ask her to eat, or if you should just let her sleep. you can still smell the ocean on her skin, and you decide it’s best for her hygiene and your peace of mind that she is clean before she goes to bed too so with a heavy heart, you’re gently shaking her awake once you sit down on the couch.

“hey sweetie, we’re home. let’s eat, bathe and then i’ll put you back to bed, yeah?” her eyes are unfocused as she opens them, and she’s letting out a long yawn before slowly nodding her head and getting up.

“okay, everyone, go wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon,” suguru says from where he already stands in the kitchen, and all four pairs of legs excitedly hurry away.

“i hope the adventure today is enough to put them all to sleep right away,” you wistfully say.

“with their tummies full, i’m sure they will pass out in no time,” suguru says back while satoru circles around him to grab the plates from the overhead cupboards. you want to get up and help but looking at them like this, all domestic and familiar, the side of the strongest sorcerers only you get to see, makes you stall for a second to appreciate this moment for a little longer. the dull ache in your chest starts throbbing again as if someone’s picking at the rough edges that never seem to fully heal, and you wonder if you could have it all if you were a little more selfish. you shake your head banishing all unnecessary thoughts from your head.

the dinner is eaten quickly, everyone so hungry, you barely exchange any words. you can see the children are struggling to keep their eyes open, tsumiki almost falling face first into the plate, so you make a quick work of their unfinished dinner and hurry them into a bathtub. megumi insists he is old enough to take a bath separately from the girls so you ask either satoru or suguru to help him (megumi makes it known who he prefers by grabbing suguru’s hand and dragging him to the second bathroom). bath time is also surprisingly quiet, low energy in the room being an indicator of just how exhausted everyone is.

with the kids finally tucked into bed (megumi apologized for misbehaving, and you think about how far you’ve come with the boy who wouldn’t utter a full sentence to you for the first 6 months), you grab the beer from the fridge and make your way onto the patio where satoru and suguru are already engaged in conversation.

they turn their heads toward you once you step outside and offer you the space between them which you gladly take. you can see suguru is nursing his own beer, while satoru opted out for a bottle of virgin mojito.

“did neither of you really ask megumi to call me “mommy” today?” you wonder out loud as you’re looking out into the horizon, where the last rays of sun melt into the ocean, clearing the canvas for the stars to spark to life.

“nah, you know how stubborn that kid is,” satoru drawls as he takes another sip of the drink; you scrunch your nose just imagining how sweet that concoction is but smile, nonetheless. “plus, it was nice being called a dad.”

both you and suguru turn to look at him, but he stubbornly keeps staring forward. you snort, seeing geto’s smile in your peripheral vision, but there is no malice behind your action. both you and suguru always knew that gojo cared in the same capacity as the two of you for the kids, he was just a little more stubborn about admitting it. you can see it in the way he handles them after they wake up from nightmares (because he knows the same thing haunts him), how he packs them lunches to school when neither you or suguru are able to do it (i know i am not as great of a cook as those two but it’s better than buying stuff from the store), how he allows them to have sweets from his secret stash when everyone else (even you and geto) are not permitted to even think about it. the two of you always knew how much he cared – satoru just needed a little push to say it out loud.

you’re about to say something witty but suguru speaks up first.

“would you have continued flirting with that man if it wasn’t for megumi?”

“flirting? i wasn’t flirting with him!”

“whatever, talking,” geto waves a hand at you like it’s all unimportant details. “would you?”

the air suddenly feels charged with electricity, years of longing and yearning threaten to rip everything at the seams. you tried so hard to move past them, move past your silly little crush, failing miserably. not that dating other people was an option for you anyways – you are sure anyone, upon hearing that you take care of four small children at only age 21, will run away in the opposite direction. it’s a good thing it didn’t matter to you either way – the kids became an integral part of your life, and you would not give them up for anything. but sometimes, just sometimes, when the loneliness creeps into the parts of your bones that have no space for it, when the heart becomes a little too big for your own chest trying to escape through rushed beats, when you tremble from how longing encompasses your whole being, you wonder how it would feel if romantic love was made for you too.

you tilt your head to look at suguru, trying to find something in his face. he doesn’t know why he asked that question – maybe it’s the sun rush of the day, the good mood he’s been in recently or how that man looked at your body – but it felt right. and he knows he’s being selfish without discussing it with satoru beforehand, but he’s so tired of hiding, so tired of pretending like he doesn’t dream of waking up next to your warm bodies, so tired of thinking about what ifs and could haves - asking that question only felt right.

“no, i don’t think i would’ve returned his sentiment,” you simply state and hope that they would leave it at that. you know they never do.

“why?” it’s satoru’s turn in this interrogation, and he looks at you in a way that makes your pulse pick up its pace.

“because…” you don’t know what you’re supposed to say. because you’re in love with your best friends? have been since you were 16 years old? you’ve been carrying the weight of unrequited love for so long now, you think you’re afraid what will happen to the space it occupies if you confess. you hope you know them enough to realize they will not make fun of you for your confession, at most making lighthearted jokes about how they always knew you were not immune to their charms, but your palms are getting sweaty just anticipating their reaction.

“because?” satoru nudges you again, and you dare to steal a glance into his baby blues. satoru’s eyes have been compared to the most prized sapphires, an ocean that will never be fully explored, the skies that are bigger than life itself – all the metaphors that describe him to the outside world perfectly. however for you, his eyes are the color of blueberries that he painstakingly picks out of tsumiki’s desserts and gives to megumi; they are the color of his favorite shirt that is more gray now than blue with how much he washed it but refuses to throw away; it’s the blue ribbons he picked out for nanako’s and mimiko’s hair for their first day of school. you look into his eyes and see a sparkle of something familiar, something you’ve seen in your eyes times and times before, staring back from the reflection in the mirror.

unexpectedly, you feel dizzy and don’t know if it’s the summer breeze that makes your head feel heavy, the alcohol swimming in your veins, or the present company, but you’re brought back to when you were all 16 and innocent, to the moment before the steady ground was violently ripped from right underneath your feet. you think about amanai and that she still loved and cared despite knowing how all of it would end for her. you think about haibara, and how he was full of promise and life and so, so much love, you almost feel sick again.

you’re quiet as you contemplate, and the men don’t interrupt your train of thoughts. memories flash before your eyes like snapshots of old cameras, making them wonder where you have gone off to.

but then you think about how it ended, for the both of your friends, in blood and violence and guilt, their life threads cut short before either of them knew what life even is. amanai and haibara didn’t get enough time to figure it all out: have they loved anyone the way you love satoru and suguru? would have they have had time to figure it out if it was a fair world?

you can feel your best friends’ body heat wrap around you, encapsulating you in their scent and presence, and you decide you’d like to stay like this forever. you think about everyone who didn’t get to spend another hour with someone they love, and you realize you’d regret it your whole life if something happens and they didn’t know how they make you feel. and with the life you lead, something can happen at any moment. you steady your hands and take a deep breath, reading yourself. now or never.

“because i am in love with you two, and i have been since we were 16.”

you close your eyes, waiting for the laugh to come, for them to say oh, you little silly girl, to chastise you for falling for the only two people that will never be yours. you wait and wait but nothing comes. instead, you feel someone’s knuckles brushing lightly against yours and gasp, opening your eyes. what you didn’t expect to see is your two best friends looking at you as if they are seeing you for the first time, their lips stretch in smiles so wide, it looks like it’s supposed to hurt. and eyes, their eyes, say so much without them needing to say anything at all.

“so… what you’re saying is that we’ve been blue balling each other since we were 16?”

“ohmygodsatorupleasestop,” words leave your mouth all jumbled up, you’re sure they didn’t understand what you said. gojo might be a little crude but the meaning behind his childish metaphor is not lost on you – three of you have been oblivious to each other’s feelings for five years now, and a pang of regret shoots through you. how different would everything be if you were brave enough to confess all those years ago?

“have both of you really known since you were 16?”

“yes.”

“yes.”

both of them say it with such conviction, you feel yourself get lightheaded. you don’t want to cry but tears are pooling in your eyes involuntarily, and you sniff a little into satoru’s shoulder.

“aw, why are you crying? i thought we all finally agreed to be happy,” suguru coos at you from the side. the warmth of your hand in his still feels unreal – like it’s someone else’s arm attached to him, and he‘s just observing as a passer-by. he brushes your knuckles with the pads of his fingers and it feels right, how your digits perfectly intervene with his and how your head fits just right into the crook of satoru’s neck, and how your lips look so perfectly kissable and shiny right now. but he doesn’t want to rush the fragility of the moment, so he only squeezes your hand tighter.

“because we could’ve had this all this time… if we were just a little braver.”

“don’t you think we are already brave enough, all the time?” satoru asks this time. “maybe it’s okay for us to be a little cowardly, even if it’s not entirely good for us. we have next memory to look forward to anyways.” gojo lifts your head and looks into your teary eyes – you’re so beautiful, it almost hurts. he let his daydreams to be full of you and your lips and your touch, that it takes everything in him not to cross the distance in a searing kiss. but he knows it’s not the right moment, so he just swipes your tears away and kisses you on the forehead. behind you, you can feel suguru’s lips gently touch your exposed shoulder.

and just like that, all worries dissipate like sand through the cracks between fingers. what is the point of worrying about the past when you have future full of love in front of you? you don’t know what tomorrow holds for three of you with your souls now bare for each other, but you have the time to discover it together. for now, you’re content with this moment, salty ocean breeze dancing on your skin, the warmth of suguru’s palm in yours and satoru’s shoulder lulling you to sleep, and you think that maybe you’ve always meant to end up here, between them.

© rinniessance do not steal, plagiarize or translate my works. do not recommend me on tiktok, thank you

[pepperstories]

Emergency Contact | Joseph Quinn

Warnings: SMUT! MDNI! Don't suck cock and drive please. That is very dangerous and also against the law. This is pretty much a series. Booty Call Joe. Tasty morsel of a man that he is.

Word Count: 3384

NSFW! 18+

A photo shoot prop worth the joy ride. Joe drove a smidge above the speed limit and enjoyed the gust of wind rattling through the sports car. The photo shoot was a success. The suit was ridiculous, but worthy of the name and the exciting chill he felt through his scalp from the excess water made him feel alive.

That was until he got a text from you.

You weren’t far away. A hideout bar in the centre of London, drinking dirty martini’s with work colleagues after a gruelling, unforgiving day in your black suede heels he loved so much.

He pictures you in the almost see through white shirt. A peekaboo bra that threatened to reveal the secrets Victoria longed to keep. A grey or black pencil skirt that shaped and hugged you perfectly enough to seem professional but flattering to draw the attention from the eyes of those in the dark bar you currently sat.

It was casual. A hook up that was established long before his current limelight and claim to fame. A mere Tinder date that was successful enough to lay the ground rules to some of the best fucks he’s ever experienced without the need for chocolates, flowers and general validation.

But he cared for you. You spoke about past relationships and how it just didn’t fit around your lifestyle. You’re favourite Ramen flavours when you’ve had too much red wine to cook an actual meal. The books you have strategically placed around your apartment that threaten to fall each time he makes an impromptu thrust of his hips into your welcoming cunt.

You cared for him. His love for the theatre and the books he had gracing the walls of his single occupancy flat in the centre of London. His flourish of knowledge on Hollywood gossip you wouldn’t find in the gossip columns of magazines. And his expert technique of making you cum with a tightening of his fingers around your neck and a flick of his tongue on your clit.

It was an understanding between the both of you: Things were perfect just the way they were.

So as he drove at top speed, his destination a small, darkly light pub just shy of the Shard. Just past 1 am and he could feel his cock twitching at the prospect of fucking you in a vintage sport car. Too far from home to even attempt the chivalry of fucking you in a nice comfy bed after a long 8 hours, he needed you now.

The narrowing streets were enough to tell him that he was close. The one way system was a permanent tattoo in his brain from growing up near the City. The small enclosed lanes getting tighter and tighter as he neared the corner you said you would wait.

A flash. His headlights. They caught the silvery grey of your duster jacket and you checked your watch and adjusted your handbag. A slight tilt in your step which he believed to be the alcohol.

Smirking at your anxious and somewhat impatient rocking that you do when you’re horny, he pulled up swiftly. You stood where a space was available, how thoughtful.

Glancing into the car, your face was a slight tinge of red. An alcoholic flush that kept you warm but caused a shiver to run down your vertebrae. A sports car was just the icing on the ever growing arousal that kept you from calling it a night.

“You looking for a good time?” Was all you said before swinging the car door open.

———————

Cramped. That was the only word that came to mind as you lifted your leg over to straddle him. A small enclosed piece of land between zones was where he decided to park. Not conspicuous in the slightest, but added enough danger to the situation to make the event much more pleasurable.

“Could you have chosen a smaller car?” You breathed out. The smell of tangy lime and stiff alcohol on your breath as it puffed into his face. He could only laugh at himself. He thought you would find this sexy.

“I thought I would impress you?” You scoffed slightly, manoeuvring the lace of your underwear down your leg and chucking it onto your bag in the back seat. His obnoxious zipper catching the inside of your thigh.

“You don’t have to impress me. You do that enough already.” It was flirting. A slight blush rising from his neck as he pulled you into a kiss. Both of your hands threading into the near dry curls on his head. He moved his hands from the dip on your back to between you. Unfastening the belt and trousers he had put on in a rush this morning. Not exactly the easiest combo for this soirée.

You settled on neck, just below his earlobe, where he liked it. His head dipping down every so often to see the progress of getting the trousers off his waist. A frustrated grunt here and there as he struggled with the angle. Too conscious of the fact that you were already a mere inch from a concussion should you jerk up suddenly.

“Fuck! I thought this would be hot as fuck.” His frustrated outburst was enough for you to sigh. His attempts at removing his pants were unsuccessful unless you stepped out of the car. Not ideal should a passing motorist or God forbid, a police car, should pass you.

“Why don’t we just go back to mines?” You suggested. More for the fact that your unforgiving hangover tomorrow will be better settled in your own bed. A walk of shame was not on the cards this weekend.

“I have an early shoot tomorrow. I also need to bring this car back.” His grimace was enough to tell you that this wasn’t going to happen tonight. Kissing his lips, you settled yourself back over into the passenger seat. The cool air settling between your legs as your sat back.

“It’s fine. Could you take me back into town? I can get a cab.” There was a hint of a smile. Enough to tell him that you were disappointed but not angry. Adjusting his seat and trousers. He nodded, pulling the seatbelt over his shoulder and starting the engine.

——————

City lights were the best part of going into London. Illuminating the skyline with hues of the colour wheel. It reflected on your tired face as he drove through the still busy streets of London. His cock still twitching in his trousers, he adjusted and readjusted too many times for it not to go unnoticed.

Tilting your head round to him, you looked around the busy streets and glanced into the rear view mirror. No sign of flashing blue lights or an impatient motorist tailing too close behind.

Adjusting yourself in the seat, you simply advised to keep driving, eyes forward and don’t be too obvious. Unsure of the command, he simply nodded and set his gaze forward, focusing on the crude rusted metal of the Vauxhall Corsa in front of him.

Ripping away the buttons and zipper on his trousers, you pulled his cock free from his boxers. The soft pale flush of skin a dull comparison to the angry red tip. You weren’t completely settled on the idea of getting him off and leaving the small motor without at least some relief. Although he was driving through London city, your focus was on the task at hand. A tight squeeze of your fingers around the base of his cock, you pulled the soft foreskin down enough to reveal his leaking tip and the pulsing skin of his frenulum. All and all, he was fit to burst.

You sensed him raising his hand above the crown of your head and then settle back on the wheel multiple times. His concentrations wearying as you hollowed out your mouth and slide down the full length of him. Tongue flat against his soft under side of his cock, you bobbled and sucked. You done it within an inch of your life. You didn’t tease, you didn’t force yourself down. This was for his pleasure and you needed him to cum.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me wreck.” His eyes were rolling on their own accord. His hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. No red lights, no busying traffic, he found himself driving towards the Burroughs where you lived. Without setting your sights on the location, you hummed and moaned against him. His stomach tensing, his body rolling forward at the sensation. The tip of your tongue tracing the sensible vein that ran alongside his shaft.

Although you were no amateur to fallacio, your attention to detail haltered slightly when he seemed to get harder and larger in your mouth. Realising that his anatomy was so finely tuned to the need your body had.

“I’m going to cum. Fuck, hold it there.” He spread the palm of his hand out across the base of your skull, thrusting slightly up into your gaped oral cavity and causing the stream of saliva to drool out of your mouth and on to his smart grey trousers. The strategically placed uvula that dangles at the back of your throat now coated in his spent, he done his usual thing: grunt, gasp and heavy breath between his chapped lips.

Cleaning off the rest of him, you suctioned off his cock with an obscene pop, looking up at him as you done so. The beautiful scarlet red of his lip stuck between the pearly whites. Lifting yourself back into you seat, you realised he had stopped. The dimly lit street was familiar and you gave him a confused lift of your eyebrow.

“I thought you had to give the car back?” Your tone was teasing but serious.

“They know where to find me.” Was all he said before pulling your crinkled shirt in his hands and pulling you over the handbrake for an open mouthed kiss. His hands sliding into your hair where your skull meets your spine. Fingers splayed and massaging the tense muscle. Sliding your tongue into his mouth, you felt his wandering free hand skim up the fabric of your work skirt and feeling the hold ups underneath. Pulling away from the kiss, he looks straight into your glazed eyes and kneed the seam of the lace hidden so carefully underneath.

“They’re your favourite.”

——————

It wasn’t a matter of how quick he could get you up the stairs, but if he could restrain himself enough to get you in bed. With a turn of the key, he bundles you up from behind and slams you against the nearest wall. Your face smooshed into the wallpaper and he pulls your jacket from behind and tosses it into your flat. His arms rounding you to pull apart the shirt he loved so much. All the while, he whispered filth into your ear. Sucking on the delicate lobe, he asked how wet you were, imagining the pressing and tightening of your thighs all night as you waited for him. How he was going to fuck you against this wall because there was no way he could walk the 20 paces into your bedroom.

He pulls the shirt off your shoulders, letting the garment hang around your skirt where it was tucked. The soft skin on your shoulder a reddish hue from your bra strap as he pulled it off to place wet opened mouthed kisses to it. Your panting and wanting was only urging him forward in his mission. Thumbing both nipples over your bra as you pushed your arse against him. His kisses roamed your cervical spine, placing soft pecks to the inter-vertebral discs as he watched you relax further into his touch. Reaching the middle of your back, he replaces his mouth with his fingers, rubbing two fingers underneath the clasp of your pretty bra and using his thumb to pull free. You whipped it off before he could and turned in his arms as he took to his knees in front of you.

He had no words. Your eyes a drunken, sexual glaze. Your neck hollowed from the deep gasping breaths you were taking and your perfect tits sloped and pert just for him. He decided he wasn’t going to take the skirt off at that very moment. Tilting his head to at you, he places both hands on each ankle. Running his hands up the velvety soft material of your light stockings and pushing up the impossibly tight pencil skirt. The fabric releasing it’s grasp of your full thighs and wide hips and nestled just below your bellybutton.

Nothing. You were bare to him. The V-Shaped valley of your cunt in perfect view. The modest little wax job you had since the last time you saw him left a tuff of curly hair that rested just above your clit. The rest was the perfectly smooth and hair free skin he couldn’t wait to taste. Your puffy lips rippling with anticipation as he leans forward to place a kiss on your pubic bone.

Pulling a leg over his shoulder, he licks a long thick stripe from your hole to your clit. A shaking breath coming from you and pushing your splayed fingers through his soft curls. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he flicks at a quick pace and marvelled in the mewling sounds you make from above. Gripping his hair tighter and moving your leg higher for him, he latches on harder and licks faster. His lower half holding up your sliding weight as you arch off the wall.

You weren’t sure what to feel in the moments leading up, but your body was buzzing with pleasurable electricity. His tongue grounding you with his fast and hard licks. His soft tight curls in between your clammy fingers. You gasped and tightened as he suctioned your clit between his lips. Suddenly he stood, grabbing your soft cheeks and pulling you into a kiss. Lifting your leg around his waist as he began to grind his hips into your soft cunt. The perfect hard friction you needed to cum loudly into his mouth.

He was surprised at your quick finish. Your shaking leg against his hip as your cunt pulsed against his clothed cock. It was enough for him to pull away from the kiss, unbuckle his belt and feel then slid down his legs. Taking your other leg, he pulls you up against the wall and forces you to wrap and hold your weight against his hips.

Gasping into his open mouth, he shifted his weight back and held you with one arm. The adrenaline from what was about to happen giving him the strength to hold your entire weight against him. Doing his signature move, licking a thick saliva filled strip down his hand and looking you straight in the eye as he done it, he pumped his cock straight into you.

It was the fullest you ever felt and it told you a lot about what was happening. The head of his cock striking your cervix straight on as he pushed straight in. The feeling of his cock still a stranger to your being as he moaned into your mouth. He settled into you before he began his thrusts. It was hard and true as he fuck you straight into the wallpaper. The slick feeling of his cock causing you to moan and pant into his mouth as he licked at your top lip each thrust he done.

A slick sound in the air of your small apartment as the headlights from the passing car gave you a glimpse of his thrusting cock into your wet hole.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” Was all he said as he thrust up into the spongy interior of your cunt. Your legs becoming somewhat numb from the position you had adopted. Words were hard to form in that moment. Biting back a sense of reality to relish in the continuous stokes he was giving you. It was a sense of passion you had never felt before. Warm brown eyes staring straight into yours. Forget about corporate mergers, Excel spreadsheets with broken coding, too tight a skirt and dirty martini's with colleagues you hardly knew. This is where you wanted to be.

It wasn't long before your breathe hitched. His mocking gasp in your face and the smirk highlighting the crinkle cut laughter lines on his face as he brought you closer. The stamina of his hips meeting yours. The angle he had you placed was striking that pink wet wall at the base of your cervix. Enough pain to produce pleasure and enough pleasure to dull the pain.

"I'm gonna cum, keep fucking going." You didn't recognise your own voice. Whether it was the alcohol in your system or the fucked out A-lister pounding his way into your womb, your voice sounded miles away.

"Wasn't going to. Never will." He grunted. A squeeze of your arse cheek and a hike of your leg pushed you further up the wall but him closer to your breast bone. The shlick of sweat gathering between the valley of your breasts was no match for Joe's skilled tongue laying flat and gliding up the column of your neck.

The creamy base of his cock pulled strings of moisture up to your clit, the friction being enough to pull a haunting groan from your lips. Something Joe was quick to pick up on.

"Right there? This where you need me?" He moved impossibly hard now. Deep thrusts that were wet and plentiful. He felt it before you, the pulsing ripple of your cunt swallowing him whole. No award. No character he played ever made him feel like this. Never made him work so hard to please. It was all you.

"Fuck!" He felt you jolt as it took you higher. A soaring wave that made your fingernails bite into his shoulders, your head fall against the wall and his cock to sputter inside you.

"Where do you want me, love? Hm? Inside? You want me to cum inside and fill you up?" His thrusts were calculated now. The aftermath of your orgasm tittering out as you thrashed and pinched your eyebrows at him. You almost looked savage as you growled and rolled your hips to meet his.

"Inside. Fuck, cum inside me." You said through gritted teeth. A manic, desperate look in your eyes. Just looking at you was enough. He felt himself slipping and sliding inside your cunt. His hands holding the majority of your bouncing weight as he felt his cock slide against your public bone. It made him possessed.

Howling into your neck, he came with three striking thrusts. You didn't think you could get any further up the wall until he proved you wrong with his finish. Heaving, wet breathes into your neck, he grounded his feet below up and held you close.

"Too hot. Too much. Too fucking good." Was all you thought as Joe rubbed his forehead into your breasts. His heavy breathing sweeping over the lace of your bra and cooling your damp sweat slick skin. Pulling his head up to look at you, you searched for something. A weaver of doubt. An inking of regret. Instead, you saw a stillness. A familiar relaxed lull in his eyes that made you feel safe. It was intoxicating.

"We're far too good at that." Was all he laughed out as he sighed against your neck. Soft little pecks to your jugular and needing hands on your thighs. "Hmm, I bet you never spoke about this in your interview's" A little snarky but witty, he softly bit the taunt skin of your chin making you yelp as he pulled out and slide you down his body until your toes touched the ground. He held you firmly against the wall still, tippy toes just allowing you the height for him to kiss you soundly and passionately on the lips. A thank you.

"Wait." You mumbled against his lips, his dark chocolate eyes opening again to look at you. A cute little head tilt thrown into the bargain. "How do they know the car is here?" A raised eyebrow was enough to make him bite his lip. Anticipation building as he pondered the right response. "You're my emergency contact."

[gigabyte-flare]

There’s No Escape (Part 1)

Summary: You are going through a rather nasty breakup as you escape your ex-boyfriend’s apartment while he’s away on a top secret government assignment. You move to a completely new state in hopes he won’t find you. You clearly underestimated his determination because he has no intention of letting you go. 

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 1.1k (Next part should be longer! Wanted to get story building stuff out of the way before getting to the good stuff ;) )

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

A/N: @dollrxst, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ghostkennedy, @lipglossanon and like a bunch of others who’s fics I’ve consumed and have been inspired by, this is all your fault and I’m not even mad about it. Please excuse grammatical errors and such, it’s been a hot second since I’ve written stuff like this. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was now or never.

Leon Scott Kennedy, your soon to be ex-boyfriend, is away on some top secret government assignment and isn’t due back for about three days. You had been seeing each other for about six months and he insisted you move in with him after three months. He seemed wonderful at first, but living with him proved to be way more than you had signed up for.

He was bat shit insane.

You weren’t sure if it was due to unaddressed trauma from his line of work or whatever but his controlling and sick nature was ludicrous to you. He was controlling, manipulative and sick in the head. His idea of fun was holding a knife to your throat while fucking the absolute shit out of you. That was just the tip of the iceberg on the things he forced you to do for his pleasure. 

Anything you absolutely could not live without was getting stuffed into your little Jeep Renegade. If it didn’t fit, it was getting left behind because you had absolutely no intention of coming back. Clothes, toiletries, some of your books, your video game console and games, a couple pillows and some sheets all got stuffed in. When you were confident you had everything essential for your impromptu move, you closed the back hatch on the Renegade and grabbed your purse, phone and car keys from the kitchen counter, making sure to leave the copy of the apartment key you miraculously found behind. You lock the apartment door and shut it. You lean up against it and take a deep breath before you rush back down to your car. You had a long ride ahead of you; Washington D.C. to Boston was about a 9 hour drive.

It was now or never; you weren’t about to squander this opportunity to escape.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was dark by the time you finally arrived in Boston. You navigate the confusing winding streets and find your apartment that you got with your best friend, Becky. You see her come out of the front door as you pull up in your car and park. You see her wave as you step out.

“Hey, you made it! I trust you had a good ride,” she inquires.

“Yeah, long as hell, sorry I’m so late. What time is it?”

“It’s like 9:30, come on in! I ordered pizza for us,” she says, motioning you in. 

You grab your purse, keys, phone and one of the pillows you had stuffed into your car and go inside the apartment. You decide you can unload your stuff in the morning. The kitchen is the first room you end up in and you set your stuff down on the small island before stumbling your tired legs into the living room where the smell of pizza was calling your name. You practically collapse in a reclining chair after grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. You let out a loud sigh of relief. You made it. You escaped.

“How are you feeling?” Becky asks before taking a bite out of her slice of pizza.

You finish chewing on yours and swallow hard, “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I’m honestly surprised I’m not dead from some of the bullshit Leon pulled.”

Becky shifts nervously on the couch. She was the only person you confided in about your sick, demented ex-boyfriend. You didn’t even tell your parents, you didn’t want to worry them. 

When you moved in with Leon, he forced you to quit your well paying I.T. job and forbade you from ever leaving the apartment alone. He took your phone away, but you found ways to sneak it back so that you could at least contact Becky. You didn’t want to think about the things he made you do; it was an absolute miracle you weren’t dead or pregnant from the amount of abuse you endured. 

“He hasn’t contacted you yet, has he?” 

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean back in the recliner, “nah, he won’t be back from whatever assignment he’s on for another few days, and I blocked his number.”

“Good,” Becky replies with a nod.

“I’m going to hit the sack,” you say suddenly as you get up from the chair and begin to walk back into the kitchen to collect your stuff. 

“No problem, I’ll help you unload your car tomorrow. I was able to get the day off from work.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late in the afternoon when Leon finally gets home from his excursion, his forearms covered in scraps and bruises. He couldn’t wait to see his baby girl, his cock growing hard from the anticipation. 

He fumbled with his keys in the low light until finding the correct one to unlock the front door to the apartment. He unlocks the door and opens it.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Leon calls out.

But there’s no response.

“Sweetie? Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Leon could feel adrenaline rush through his veins as he starts to frantically search each room for his sweetheart. He became hyper aware of the dead silence of the apartment the further he searched. When he got to the bedroom, he ripped the closet doors open and found most of your clothes were gone. He ran into the bathroom; your toiletries were gone. Almost all your belongings were gone.

“No, no, no, no, nO, NO, NO!”

Where could you have gone? He never in a million dreams imagined you would ever leave him. You belonged to him. You were his everything. Everything he did, he did it for you, he did it to keep you safe from the disgusting world. Pure rage began to flow through him as he stalked back into the kitchen. Unsheathing his knife, he stabbed it into the center of the small dining table before he used both hands to flip it, letting out a primal growl as he did so. 

“That fucking ungrateful bitch!” he growls before walking over to the overturned table to retrieve his knife. 

“I loved you, took care of you, protected you… and this is the thanks I get…”

He pulls out his cellphone, dialing your number and putting the phone to his ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please check the number and try again.”

Taking a deep breath, he then attempts to send a text to the number.

We’re sorry, the number you have entered is not valid.

Breathing heavily, he puts his phone back in his pocket, balling both his fists and closing his cobalt eyes. He stood there for a moment, seething when he suddenly appeared to have a revelation. His eyes snap back open and he digs his phone back out from his pocket and opens an app. A smile slowly overcomes him as stares down at the phone like he was staring down at a long lost lover.

“There you are. Don’t worry baby girl. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

Part 2

[eveningepiphany]

manbun | H.S blurb

my masterlist

summary: you and harry are about to fuck in the back of his car, and you want his hair out for it. little do you know how much he likes a bit of hair pulling.

warnings: SMUT, car sex, quickie, hair pulling (m receiving), unprotected PIV, swearing.

a/n: just a little snack for y’all while I work on far from sober’s second part! manbunrry is so underrated.

———

“Baby—“ you hiss as Harry’s teeth come in contact with the junction of your neck and jaw.

His hands are on your hips, gripping tight since the moment he slid you up his lap.

You were making out in the back seat of his car— an impromptu decision to drive out to the nearest city lookout has quickly turned into, well… whatever you call this.

You weren’t together, the two of you. But it’s complicated to describe what you even are. He’d invited you over to watch a movie, so you did that, and nothing sexual had even happened.

Quickly that changed, after driving out here, the middle of butt-fuck nowhere and all the sudden being all over eachother.

Well at least since he joked about the both of you fucking in his car. Pretty sure he was just really into the idea.

He hums in the back of his throat, it’s gravelly, laced with the pleasure he’s evidently gaining from this. You can feel him plumping up beneath you.

You’re salivating over his half unbuttoned shirt. It’s borderline slutty, the way he walks around like that. Teasing his pecs and the top of his butterfly tattoo.

Sometimes you don’t know how people have a coherent conversation with him while he looks like that outside. Hair out, abs peaking through— it makes you almost nauseous.

He’d probably had his hair down during the earlier hours of the day, and then tied it up before you’d come over, since it’d been up since you went over this evening.

As much as your a fan of the manbun— trust me, no one loves that bun like you do— you want his hair out.

So your hands lace behind his neck, sliding up to where the hair-tie securing his hair was. You start to tug on it.

It was in tighter than you’d initially expected— causing you to be practically just pulling on it— and nothing could’ve prepared you for the moan that comes out of him.

“God— you’re— shit.” His hips snap up against you. Hard. You almost laugh at how unexpected it was.

“Harry,” You begin, and there’s a teasing yet aroused edge to your voice, “are you getting worked up over me pulling you hair?”

He can’t even verbalise the heat that flushed through him as that happened, his jaw gone lax.

Your fingers wrap around the hair-tie again, tugging it out, earning another groan from him. You don’t stop there though, not after seeing him react like this. You gather up his hair into a make shift ponytail, pulling on it, gauging his reaction again.

His lips scrape up your neck as he tilts his head back to follow the pull.

“Didn’t know you liked getting your hair pulled, huh.” You said, tightening your grip and bringing his eyes to lock with yours.

“Fuck— I didn’t… I didn’t know.” He hissed at your teasing, pushing his hips up to your core again, trying to relieve a little pressure.

“Seems like a pretty submissive trait if you ask me? Like being a bottom hm?”

“Shut up.” He huffs, but you just grip his hair tighter.

Reaching down, you undo a few more buttons on his shirt, “Already half undone for me.”

He pulls at your sweatpants, tugging them off with only a minor struggle. Beginning to palm over you through your underwear, which is damp already.

“Already so wet. Feel it through y’underwear, babe.” He groans, kissing your neck.

You start unbuttoning his jeans, and he lifts his hips and helps you pull them down below his thighs.

“Want me on top? Want me to ride you in the backseat of your car?” You pull his cock out from his briefs, salivating at the sight.

The two of you seemed to be dancing, swapping who was leading every few steps and it was weird to experience. But it was hot regardless, seeing him act so submissive yet dominant in a span of moments.

“Jesus, ‘course I do.” He takes his hand, pushing your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers through your slit.

He drags your arousal up to your clit, drawing fast circles over you that has your stomach clenching. You move his hand away, replacing it with the head of his cock, earning a shared moan from the two of you.

One hand is still tangled up in his hair as you sink down his length about half way before allowing a moment to adjust and take a breath.

“Still so fuckin’ tight Y/N. Anyone would think I’d never fucked y’with my cock before.” He moaned, hands cupping your ass and squeezing.

“Y’still feel huge, H.” You feel him pulse within you as you slide a little further down.

As you feel the stretch, you let out that tension on his hair— yanking it back more.

“Don’t— baby— you’re gonna make me come.” He moans, thighs tensing under you.

“Hold it.” You say, getting to the very base of him and rolling your hips against him.

“Shit…” He curses, and you lean forward to kiss his adams apple, licking a stripe up to his chin.

You begin bouncing on him, starting up a rhythm that has his eyes rolling back into his head.

His hand slides forward from your ass, and down to play with your clit.

The car was genuinely swaying, and with the way the both of you were panting, you were beginning to fog up the windows.

He pinches your clit, and you give a rough tug on his brown curls.

The two of you are undoing eachother, so fast it’s giving you whiplash.

The groans coming from him are unmatched though, and you never thought he’d be so into this.

“Fucking dirty, Harry. Didn’t think you’d love getting pulled on like this. Like a slut would.” Jerking his head back to meet your eyes again, his pupils are blown out with pleasure.

“Y/N—“ he moans, and you purposefully squeeze around his cock.

“Cant admit it, can you? That you’re just a fucking slut.” You say, holding him in place.

“I’m gonna— Jesus Christ— gonna come if you keep pulling on me like this.”

You bounce harder over his cock, kissing his jaw and lips as you ignore the burn in you legs and the pit of your stomach.

His fingers are fucking your clit with a matched pace to your bounces, and your resolve starts to crumble beneath you.

“Harry—“ you cry as his fingers slip all over your absolutely soaked clit.

“Come. Just fucking come on my cock, please!” He begs, and your whole body tenses as it happens.

You thighs are shaking as you come around his dick, so hard your digging the nails of your free hand into his shoulder. The other has got his hair in a vice-like grip.

That combined with the clenching of your cunt, Harry can’t hold it a second longer— his own moans are sounding seconds after yours.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ he hisses, abs clenching as his warm ropes of come shoots into you.

It takes a moment to come down from your highs. And you’re both still shaking as you begin to untangle yourselves from one another.

“You’re probably gonna have a sore scalp tomorrow.” You laugh a little as he tucks himself gently back into his briefs, wincing a little at the sensitivity of his cock.

“Worth it, I guess…” he admits quietly.

“It’s hot you know? You pulling on my hair like that. Nearly came when you first did it.”

“Well fuck, I think it’s hot you like having your hair pulled.” You shrug, kissing his lips.

“M’ glad. Means you’ll do it again.”

“Anytime, Harry.” You smile, half joking, half not.

———

[nanamis-bigtie]

impromptu rendezvous

↬ hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader ↬ masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, friends to lovers, reader has breasts, vagina & is rather feminine, drunk sex, piv sex, creampie, sex on couch, long-term platonic relationship goes romantic really quick summary: through the years of close friendship you have never felt anything romantic towards hanamaki…but have you really? you feign being drunk to escape an overwhelming party and when he takes care of you, you can't bring yourself to refuse his help. instead, you keep the game rolling until you find yourselves alone in your apartment word count: 4.8k a/n: commission for lovely @antique-remains ❤ thank you so much for your support and trust, i loved working with you and your ideas!

"My, my, aren't you a good wife?"

Matsun's sarcastic comment has Hanamaki's eyebrows twitch with irritation, but he doesn't stop nor retort. He's had his good dose of alcohol too, shoelaces of your boots tangling between his fingers as he's kneeling on one knee between your legs, leaning slightly to the right. It puts strain into your own knee but you don't mind; you like the weight of his body and its warmth, especially now, your mind foggy and overwhelmed. It's familiar and personal, great comfort amidst the chaos and noise, and the crowd filling the apartment a little much for your limits.

You didn't hate the party—no, you were always looking forward to Matsun's—but it strained you far past what you expected. You didn't make it easy for yourself either, pouring too much into yourself and too fast. And tomorrow's morning classes be damned, you were ready for even more, but Hanamaki was right there, with his overshielding that was sometimes getting on your nerves, but so needed right then. Gently but firmly, he moved your glass away and excused you both from the company. Soon, you've been herded towards the hallway, packed into your jacket, having your purse shoved under your arm, and sat down for him to deal with your boots.

You're not that drunk to not be able to take care of yourself but once he's dropped to his knees, you've felt it's best to keep your mouth shut and just let him. Wouldn't be the first time either and you know better than to argue against his care—but you can't pretend you don't like him like this now, with his flushed cheeks between your legs, eyebrows knit in focus and their little twitch at Matsun's teasing behind his back. The urge to thread fingers through his hair is real and persistent; you know how soft it is, and you know the smell of his shampoo would linger on your fingers for quite some time but, again, you're not that drunk. Such a move would be shameless even for your long and close friendship, and feigning daze right under Matsukawa's nose could as well be a straight confession of feelings.

Nothing could escape those knowing eyes, even what you haven't dared to admit to yourself. No, it's better to play stupid and limp, and to nibble on your bottom lip, watching Makki on his knees for you, letting him dart you up and wrap arm around your waist once he's dressed himself, ready to lead you outside and to your apartment.

"You're gonna be okay?" Matsukawa is dead serious now, holding the door for you two and lingering there even as you make it past the garden and pavement to your Uber ride.

"We've been worse," Hanamaki scoffs, no offense taken though. "Get back there and don't drown yourself in beer."

"Sure. Don't break your legs or something."

Your place is only a couple of blocks away but in your current state it would take forever to get there on foot. You would still try though, too dazed to think of a ride, but what do you have Hanamaki for, if not for being your brain in times like these? It would be enough to pack you into the car and trust the driver with the delivery, but he took a seat next to you and let you lean against him.

Matsun's not there anymore to judge and tease you so you grow bolder, as bold as you can in presence of a bystander right under your nose. The crook of Hanamaki's neck is tailored for the shape of your head; you nuzzle up there and close your eyes, to ease the dizziness caused by car's vibrations, yes, but first and foremost to soak yourself in his scent. It's duller under the lingering smell of the party, of the crowd, smoke and that sharp, teasing aftertaste of beer and vodka, but you can still catch a glimpse of him. His cologne is subtle but persistent, like him, but there's the shampoo and shower gel combo you will always recognize after countless times of finding it in your own bathroom after he's spent a night on your couch. 

And under that, deeper, there's him, the natural scent of his body, embarrassingly familiar for the distance you, despite everything, still keep.

It's the scent you've known for the longest and, in prospect of over ten years of your friendship, it's so funny how offensive you found it at first. Always in a hurry, from volleyball club to precious hours reserved for friends, barely squeezed into his tight schedule, he skipped a shower here and there, and as he never smelled bad to you, for some reason it irritated you how much he stood out for your nose and how it distracted you.

You've drilled a habit of keeping his hygiene always on point. But now, in the confines of the small car, with the rough edge of his jacket nuzzled up to your cheek, you wish you could smell more of him, if only a little.

Friends, even the best kind, don't cram their noises into their necks during their shared Uber ride, the sobering part of your brain is trying to point your attention to that, but you ignore it. And Hanamaki doesn't mind it, even wraps his arm around you shortly before you reach your destination, way too late for your liking. But the hold soon returns, first helping you out of the car, then keeping you straight up the stairs and into the elevator, finally leading you to your door.

"Even a blind person could rob you," he mutters, fishing the keys out of your pocket with ease. The lock clicks open with half of a turn, and he sighs, concerned and amused alike.

"Shut up," you mumble, hanging on his shoulder more than needed. "No one has robbed me before."

"Fortune favors fools, eh?"

"You're calling me stupid?" You withstand when he's trying to push you past the threshold—well, as much as your wobbly legs can, heels not helping your case. You're having a taste of upper hand only because Hanamaki lets you, you know it from the playful flickers in his eyes; he's squinting and tilting head to side as you're pulling him two steps back into the corridor—just for him to set you into your prior position with a single pull.

"I'm calling you drunk and too light-hearted." He's finally done and tugs at your arm until you lose balance—and fall straight into his arms, then over his shoulder as he's tripped you, and picks you up with ease.

"I'm gonna scream!" You kick and wiggle, but he knows your tricks too well to let you slip out.

"Sure, scream, princess." Covering you with one arm, he shuts the door behind your backs. "Show me what those little lungs can do."

You're carried into the living room, then thrown onto the couch, seemingly with no care for your state, but you know Makki could be far less gentle, if he really wanted to pay you back for your little games. Your mind is fuzzy more from hanging over his shoulder than the landing itself—but still not fuzzy enough to stop you in your tracks. You shamelessly stretch legs, one foot playfully slotted in his hand; he rolls his eyes but undoes the boot, then the other, then helps you out of your jacket and carries everything to the hallway.

He's mapped your apartment better than your current, overly absent roommate has, and you're ready to bet he's actually spent more time here than her through all those years of crashing on your couch. In no time he has a bottle of water and painkillers for you, a heated blanket is pulled out of the cabinet and thrown over your legs, he even helps you with your skincare duty, bringing you make-up removal wipes.

"You could have carried me straight to bed." You didn't want to sound whiny or disappointed, but it does come across as so; you curl your shoulders, unsure of his next move and for the first time since what seems forever unable to read his expression. Hell, you're unsure of your intentions and reason behind the weird longing, your mind free of thoughts, just waiting for his reaction and feeling weirdly shy, as if you were stripped naked and left for his judgment.

Hanamaki indeed seems to judge you, his head tilted to the side just a little, eyes narrowed much like a cat's a moment before the final pounce. He often does so, an old habit of analyzing the court before a move rubbing off on every aspect of his life, but you haven't paid any particular attention to it until now, when his focus is piercing you inside out.

He can strip you of your confidence like no one, years of your friendship a blessing and a curse alike.

"That's a forbidden territory," he finally settles on ignoring the topic, not dwelling on but not quite letting it die right here and now either. "I ain't that much of a pervert to walk into some girl's bedroom just like that. Especially with a girl ripped to the tits."

"I'm not some girl to you, ain't I?" You huff and pout. "Haven't you said I'm almost like a sister?"

For a moment there's a weird look in his eyes, maybe pain, maybe disappointment, but it's quickly replaced by his good old teasing demeanor, "I wouldn't walk into my sis' bedroom either. Sorry, you either sleep here or crawl there on your own. Good luck."

Hanamaki makes a beeline for the door, ready to slink off but when you call out to him by his name, he immediately freezes and looks over his shoulder, as if you pulled on an invisible leash around his neck.

"You're not staying?" You shimmy into one corner of the couch, leaving the other half for him. "We can order Chinese. And— And maybe watch something. On Netflix or—"

"You are aware how it sounds, right?" He says but he's already throwing his sneakers and jacket off, closing the distance between you in a few wide steps. Couch dips under his weight as he's thrown himself straight at it with a loud groan, your side bobbing under you as a result.

You barely hold a yelp in your throat. Why are you so tense suddenly? You've already been way closer than on two sides of the same couch, the distance between you now wouldn't be anything weird even for people who barely know each other.

When you think about it now, your sobering mind slowly connecting the right puzzles, there is some emotional distance between you two lately. You can't pinpoint when exactly it's started; you've been slowly tiptoeing away from each other, building an invisible, thin veil in between. There's still comfort and familiarity you don't share even with your female friends but it's not the same as it used to be.

For a try, you dare to straighten your legs and rest them on his lap. Makki doesn't budge but palpably lingers with the next move; finally, he cups your feet between his big hands and massages them. You don't really need a relief for them but it's a little ritual you two have developed since you've started wearing high heels.

"Chinese then?" You draw a circle with one foot, playfully avoiding his touch.

"I won't fit a single thing more," he makes a tortured face just at the thought. "I've drunk too much."

"You don't look wasted."

Hanamaki snorts and throws head back, his face out of the range of your vision. You watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows his laughter, your mouth dry in a way you've never felt for him. Or maybe you have but it's been easier to brush it off without alcohol clearing your mind with a sadistic precision. You're stripped bare by your own chain of bad decisions, nowhere to hide and no way to pretend anymore.

"Neither do you." He tickles the sole of immobilized foot and holds you through the spasm, merciless despite the tenderness of his hold. "You're not that drunk as you try to act, hmm?"

His fingers trail along the side of your foot and ankle, then up your shin, towards the sensitive area around your knee, a thin layer of your stocking in no way able to protect you from incoming tortures. He keeps you on the edge, fingertips hovering over the point you know it will have you scream, cry, and beg—or worse, if he tickles you for too long.

Warmth creeping straight into your core has nothing to do with this anticipation though; it's intense but not rapid, and you take it for alcohol running in your veins at first, at least until immense need for being touched overpowers everything. The urge to squeeze your thighs and trap his hand in between is strong, anxiety squeezing your lungs even stronger, the mess of thoughts and emotions in your head devastating.

It feels...wrong, to react to his touch like this. You're holding the blame for alcohol messing with you, despite being called out on it and despite your body sobering up with each draft of air. No, it surely has to be the drunkard speaking through you, otherwise you would have to admit—

(To admit it feels wrong, but you need it, you need it so bad you might cry, if you won't get it from him.)

Hanamaki grazes the ticklish spot, impatient for your answer, and this time you can't hold a yelp any longer. It's dangerously close to a moan, your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet but he only cocks an eyebrow, waiting, either missing your reaction or ignoring it.

"I had enough," you admit in a whisper, afraid the trembling of your voice will betray you. "Needed to get out but explaining it all to Matsun—"

He chuckles, amused and understanding. Matsukawa could be a pain in the ass with his overzealous nosiness and you surely were drunk enough to find it troublesome.

"You could have at least told me." He tickles you again, forcing you to laugh and jerk up. His hand slides towards the inner side of your leg and doesn't budge from there. 

You don't move, either, a little ashamed how easily you caved and accepted the crumbs off the plate. Warmth in you is pulsing, not a wave anymore but the first flicker of fire that's bound to explode if you won't extinguish it right here and now.

"Didn't want to sit here all alone." You throw head back, saving yourself at least the torture of his gaze looking for yours. You wish you didn't throw the blanket on the floor as soon as he threw it at you, you could hide under it and soak back into your excuses and lies.

"You could have told me that too." Hanamaki is unwavering, his thumb rubbing circles into your stocking. "Instead of playing... Whatever it is. Dragging me here like some drunk rando you keep tabs on, letting him seduce you."

You can't read whether he's teasing you or being dead serious—and it's terrifying. The last thing you want is to hurt him, to have him reject you and close the door not only to whatever is happening between you two now but also to your cherished friendship. You love him, as who doesn't really matter. You need him more than just the physical craving, peaking after months, if not years of repressed yearning. 

You would never forgive yourself, if you lost it all because of drunk carelessness.

"What if I said I wouldn't mind being seduced by you?" You finally break, all cards on the table. Keeping you both on the edge is the worst outcome, you would rather take the ultimate rejection than toying further with his trust and creating distance you two would never close again.

He sucks in breath through clenched teeth, a few seconds of silence unbearable for your poor, fluttering heart. Weight of his fingers against your thigh grows, he nearly sinks them into your flesh before he speaks, his voice so tense it's almost breaking, "Please tell me it was you who said it, not booze messing with me."

"I wouldn't mind being seduced by you." You repeat and adjust your position, looking straight at him now against the urge to hide your face in your hands. Embarrassment is not a word you two share in your dictionary, but the vulnerability of the moment drives you insane, each passing second feeling like burning hot liquid metal poured straight into your heart.

You watch him wipe his face with a free hand, watch his chest bob with a deep, desperate breath. Eyes closed shut, Hanamaki collects racing thoughts; you see his eyebrows twitching in intense focus, a small bead of sweat dripping down his temple. It lasts a few heartbeats, it feels like hours, surely for the both of you, years of experience in reading each other no relief on this completely different ground.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed about it." When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and guttural, speaking straight from his core and stripped bare. "Since the last year— Fuck, I don't know for how long, maybe from the beginning... I feel like I always wanted you—"

He hides face in both hands now and groans, frustrated with his own helplessness and tongue tied with the remains of a drunk haze. Both of you have lost the majority of it at this point, though, at least at the mental level.

"I suck at confessions." He finally admits the obvious and you both collapse into giggles in relief. "I'm much better with my hands."

They're both at you again, exploring your legs with more punch to it. Makki follows the seam of your stockings, up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the lacey welt and toys with them. He takes his time stripping you of them, teasing and testing, relishing in the feel of your bare skin slowly revealing itself for him.

His fingers are warm, but you still shudder when he cradles your ankles and glides up your calves. You spread your legs for him, but he doesn't reach further, for now satisfied with little twitches and goosebumps covering your skin. He's making you pay for your little lie, you realize with an impatient mewl, and he wouldn't mind having you pull the rope towards yourself, but you let him have his way. You feel guilty, after all, for the quirk of tonight and the silence of numerous months. He can have this moment of triumph.

He's bored with it faster than you thought.

"C'mon, baby girl," he tosses your legs away and pats his lap, a faint teasing smirk on his lips.

You don't need to be told twice.

You roll your dress further up and straddle him. Not until now you realized how tense and hot and heavy you've been, your starved and sensitive pussy twitching just at the brush of his jeans. Thin layer of your panties could as well just not exist, you grind on him for relief—irregular, sharp moves of hips, soon cut by both of his arms wrapped tight around you.

Makki kept himself in shape, you note with satisfaction feeling his muscles tense against your waist. You know of his gym routine, of course, but it's a whole different world when you can touch and appreciate him in his whole glory. You sink your hands under his t-shirt, trace his abs and chest to your liking as you lean for a kiss, at first shy, then sliding your tongue in with ease.

You've imagined it before, but the reality is nowhere close to your fantasies. He's good, he's so incredibly good despite the aftertaste of everything you've poured into your throats before and the clumsiness of the first shared kiss. You're ready to drown in it, forgetting about the whole world, even about the dull pulsing between your legs—if not for his hands relentlessly at work, one kneading your ass, the other unzipping your dress and sliding it down your shoulders.

"Can I?" Hanamaki whispers against your lips, his eyes half closed and glossy. He traces the clasp of your bra and undoes it immediately as you nod.

Dress is rolled down your waist, bra—thrown behind the couch. Makki leans back to see you better, mouth slightly agape at the sight. He squeezes your breasts with both hands, feeling their shape against his palms, swallows hard.

"You're so hot..." He mutters, close to choking on his own words.

You press into his touch, chase the closeness as you grind against him with the right rhythm and pressure now. He welcomes you with a needy groan, his face shoved into your neck, sucking and nibbling, and even daring to bite.

"I'm sorry," he kisses a beeline towards your chest, hot breath grazing your perky nipple.

"You're not sorry," you pull him closer, fingers threading through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm not."

Makki's tongue is divine against your skin. He sucks on your tits with fervor, at first tries to tease, but quickly forgets himself, encouraged by your breathy moans and nails scratching his scalp. He's soon answering the rhythm of your hips too, the front of his jeans bulging, surely tight for his hardening cock. It takes you a few tries in the confines of his hold, but you finally open his belt and zipper and help him out of his briefs.

He groans in relief but doesn't stop sucking, just bucks into your hand when you give him the first, testing stroke. You follow the wordless request, build up a decent rhythm for him even if he doesn't make it easy for you with the work of his lips and fingers. Holding you firm with one arm, he reaches between your legs and returns the favor, fingers toying with your slit.

"So wet for me already?" He tries to tease, his voice on the verge of a needy moan under the relentless ministrations of your hand. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you swipe your thumb against his sensitive tip. "Fuck, that's right... Right here, baby."

You love the way it rolls off his tongue, this casual, endearing pet name he's sometimes used before just to fuck around with you. It's sweet and desperate, drenched with need as he's rutting into your palm, for a split moment forgetting about you and mumbling it again into your breasts once catching himself on being sloppy.

You're honestly no better, losing your mind whenever his fingers toy with your entrance. You want him inside, so badly it tears you apart, but you know you're going to forget yourself as soon as you get what you want. His cock pulsing in your hand doesn't make it easy for you, it's like a torture at this point, torture you want to—have to—endure for him. One finger in, two, three—you clench your teeth and squeeze him tighter in your hand, on the verge of begging him to ruin you, fighting against it, soaking in immense pleasure of having your slick walls caressed exactly how you need it.

"Not gonna— Fuck, last long if you—" Hanamaki peels himself off your chest, puts everything he still has in him into pushing his high away. "Lemme— Lemme take care of you first."

He guides you to lean against him, hands against his chest, hips angled to reach your sweet spot better. Focused on self-control, you missed how he's been relentlessly looking for it, testing, observing, attentive despite his own need trying to take over.

"T-there..." You help him as much as your trembling thighs let you, arching your ass into his hand. "Don't stop now."

"I won't."

Toes curling and pleasure turning your body into spasm, you almost lose the perfect balance at the crucial moment. But Makki is there for you, holding you close and right, helping you ride your high until the last delicious second. You slump against him, blessed, exhausted but nowhere close to being full; you mewl with protest when he pulls out of you.

Makki cocks an eyebrow, surprised and hopeful at the same time, "Do you still wanna—"

You glance down at this dick, beads of precum glistening at its tip, and put the last ounce of power left in you into lifting your hips once again. He mutters something about lack of protection, neither of you listen, sanity all gone with a single swipe between your folds.

"Gonna be slow—" You can see in his eyes how much it costs him, to be mindful of your weakened, overstimulated state instead of throwing you on your back and fucking you stupid. You would take it, you would take everything, but his restraint tastes the best now.

He keeps his word, filling up inch by inch, holding you to ease strain for your trembling knees. Before your head falls into the crook of his neck, you catch a glimpse of his expression, blissed out from the simple pleasure of your wet pussy squeezing him tight. He whispers your name like a prayer, cradling you close and fully impaled on him, savoring the moment before you force your bodies to move again.

You start first but you can bounce on it only a few times before he has to take over, holding your hips for you. He stays true to his promise; even when his arms start giving up and his upward thrusts grow sloppy, he stays gentle and sweet—as much as a man drunk of you can when chasing his high. 

There's no rhythm to it, more than anything you just sway together, but just being full of him is enough. Thighs flush to him, you soak into him, chest to chest, your face in the crook of his neck, his breath heavy and moist in your ear. He throbs deep in you, close to release since the moment he's sunk into you, but stubborn to endure a little more, for another thrust, for another frantic budging of your hips, for another twitch of your pussy around him. He struggles to praise you for it too, his voice dying on him whenever he tries though, leaving him with just a string of groans and pieces of your name in between, over and over again.

He's trying to say it one more time when it finally hits him. His arms tremble and he sinks you onto his cock one more time, spilling his seed deep inside. You hold him through it, nails digging into his shoulders through the t-shirt, almost crying in your own overstimulation. 

Hanamaki wraps himself around you as well, soaking into your dry sobs, one hand soothingly petting the small of your back.

"You did so well, baby," he rasps into your ear, kissing the trail of sweat next to it.

You did so well—like back in high school when you broke your dominant arm and struggled to take notes with the other. When you got drunk for the first time and he held your hair as you were leaning over the toilet. When you broke and cried after a hard exam in your first year. When you finally got rid of your horrible ex.

He's praised you so many times before. But none sounded as sweet as the one now, in his embrace, breathing in air full of his scent, sharing the warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Still connected, you lean together to the side and collapse into the couch. It's uncomfortable, especially for Makki and his long limbs, but you both have reached your limit, and even a risk of being eventually caught by your roommate doesn't prompt you to move.

"You were right, should have carried you to the bedroom," Hanamaki sighs heavily against your neck and cradles you closer, as away from the edge as you both can fit.

"I'm always right," you chirp with confidence and prompt yourself for a pinch or nudge you would get in return, but he just laughs and guides your head to rest in his palm.

"Let's leave regrets and consequences for tomorrow." He says after a moment of silence, long enough for you to think he's dozed off. His lips are pressed close to your skin, his voice barely audible. "I don't wanna think of anything else other than you finally in my arms."