#but i think that's how it's suppose to feel

[reignpage]

How the JJK men react to you being in a coma

Satoru is devastated

It’s a deadly silence that envelopes you as he carries you to safety, face stone cold and grip tight. Even as you’re being patched up, laid down on a hospital bed, he doesn’t say a word. Just stares and watches every bruise fade, every wound heal, and for the heaviness in your limbs to wash away. But your eyes don’t open. No one says the obvious. 

Lying on the bed with you, he cradles your head to his chest and whispers, “This is the closest to losing you I ever want to get.”

You’re practically locked away after that. He takes over your teaching duties, and he works overtime to ensure the area is as safe as can be whilst you recover, intent on making sure that when you wake up, all you have to do is make it up to him with hugs and kisses. Every curse that runs into him faces a slow and brutal death as he takes out every ounce of his pain on them. None of it is enough. No number of curses slain will bring you to consciousness. For every hour you slumber, Satoru loses sleep.

"I always knew you like to nap but this is just excessive, sweets. Leave some beauty for the rest of us, yeah?"

No one has ever seen him more serious.

"Please?"

Suguru is motivated

You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to be there at all. Finding you, lying in a puddle of your own blood send shivers of wrath coursing through his veins. It was them. Those filthy monkeys. Seeing you barely able to open your eyes is a kind of pain only non-sorcerers could cause.

As you sleep life away, he busies himself with plans, double checking everything is airtight and all will proceed as expected. He can’t let you get hurt again. He won’t let them hurt you again. “Hi, pretty girl. I’ve been gone, haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

You're taken care of by Nana and Mimi and every single shaky smile they hide from him steels his resolve even further.

"Yes, I think that colour suits her well. She always did love when you painted her nails. Why don't you do mine too? We can all match."

Manoeuvring you onto his chest, he pretends you’re merely napping. He decides, there and then, he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that the world you wake up to is one that’s safe for you, for your family, for your future.

Even if that world is devoid of him. 

Choso is panicked

He’s fussing, hands flying as he warns them to be careful of you. Every lack of sound of pain, of agony, and anguish from you makes him pull on his hair harder. You’ve always been the stronger one out of the two of you, so to see you limp, weak and silenced, sends his newfound heart racing. Even when it’s just the two of you, he runs around the house, fluffing up your pillow, getting you a glass of water, placing a warm towel on your forehead. 

“I don’t know what to do. You’re supposed to be the one who tells me what to do.”

Putting more hours sparring, he pushes his body to the limit, dedicated to getting stronger and better. He wants to protect you. To make sure you’re never in this position again. And though he’s always wanted to experience every part of being a human, grief is something he can do without. 

"I'll be fine, Yuji. Hit me harder. I can take it. No, I have to. Y/n needs me. I'm no good to her like this."

Toji is terrified

This can’t be happening again. He can’t lose someone else again. Someone so special to him, who taught him how to love again, to live and to know it’s okay to want more. "You promised you'd never put me in this position. You fucking promised."

You’re safer without him. You have people to take care of you. He'll only get in the way.

Leaving is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Every step feels like needles are pricking his feet, stabbing him in the heart somehow. He barely makes it a mile before his thoughts drift to you and stay there.

He thinks about you, weak and recovering. What if you wake up and no one’s there? Not a single family member or friend. He thinks about how you’ll croak his name, force your body up and search the house for him, limping. He imagines your legs will give up on you and you’ll fall, hurting yourself more.

The thought steals his breath and knocks him back. Rushing home, he drops his getaway bag and creeps into bed, holding you gently against him. 

“I’m here. I’m here, ma. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Kento is ruined

His wife. His beautiful wife, losing the light in your eyes as he holds you. Gone is your smile, your warm touch and is instead replaced with shivering and shallow breaths. The noise that comes out of him is guttural and broken. "Oh, d-darling. Look at this mess. Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

You’re alive but sleeping. And he doesn’t know when you’ll wake. It feels as if you’re floating in that space between the world of the living and the dead, and he wants to follow. 

He never leaves your side. He freshens the flower by your bedside table, keeps a tight schedule of visitors. None of them can touch you, they can’t speak too loudly and they can’t complain by your ear about their personal lives — he only wants you to be surrounded by positive energy. 

“You’ll wake up soon, won’t you, sweetheart? Yes. Yes, you will because you always take care of me. You’ll tell me off for not shaving, for not eating and for pushing everyone away, wouldn’t you?"

Maintaining your routine, he washes your face, puts on face masks, and reads aloud by your side, hoping that a particularly dramatic prose will provoke a reaction from you.

"I need my wife. I need you. What am I supposed to do without you? Won’t you open your eyes for me? For your Kento?”

Sukuna is confused

He’s in disbelief as he's ushered into the room where you rest. Everyone is in a state of disarray and for what, he has no idea. You’re merely sleeping. He pokes your cheek. “Wake up, woman. Tell these pathetic fools to stop their useless quivering.”

When you don’t, he frowns. Brows furrowing, he tilts his head and examines your body. You’re breathing and he can hear your heart beating, and yet you don’t respond to his commands.

How insolent.

Waving the peasants away, he shakes your shoulder. “Your king has given an order. Follow it immediately or face punishment”

Even once he has it explained to him, he can’t wrap his head around the concept of you sleeping indefinitely, though he’s once gone through it himself. You’re different. Better. You’re supposed to be filled with endless optimism and energy. You’re supposed to be bothering him about smiling, pulling him to the garden to look at a flower he’s seen before.

"Humans really are f-fragile creatures. Ridiculous."

Tutting, he rolls his eyes and grumbles about how you’re not even making space for him on the bed. There, lying with you, he can do nothing but slumber and wait for your soul to reignite, sparking his once more.

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or how reader made a friend in the most unconventional way.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another,, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ i hope you guys like this! i'm considering making this into a series; if i do, i think i'd do it the same way this fic is, aka some narration but mostly 'chatting' between rafe and reader. anyway, let me know if you want it to continue!! i've been feeling down for a few weeks now, so something simple and fun like this was a good way to get back into the flow of writing.

i thought about making this a smau, but doing the chats like this feels more authentic to the 2000s chatroom experience y’know

you were sitting on your bed, your laptop open on a website called KildareUChats, a website that was apparently meant for the students of your university to be able to anonymously chat with other students, your friend having told you to give it a try, knowing that it’d be difficult for you to do in person.

you didn't really see the point of it; although your social circle was in no way huge, you were happy enough with it, really. never having been great with new people, you'd made three friends on your freshman year of college and simply stuck to them. it didn't help that whenever you tried to talk to someone new, it felt like someone was choking you.

but this was online. the person on the other side would never know who you are, and you'd never have to actually be face-to-face with them. your cursor moved to hover over the 'REGISTER' button, and you filled the page out with your basic information, name, school email, birth date... but when the website asked for a username, you couldn't help but purse your lips as you looked around your dorm room, from the fairy lights you'd hung up on walls that now glowed in a yellowish hue, to the several books stacked on the floor, to the dead roses on your desk...

but when your eyes landed on your nightstand, you spotted a book of poems by edgar allan poe, and your lips quirked up into a small smile. after you typed the name 'AnnabelLee' into the username field, a green check mark appeared next to it to signify it was available.

after setting a password, you were redirected to a page that said 'WELCOME TO KILDAREUCHATS AnnabelLee! CLICK HERE IF YOU WISH TO CONNECT WITH A RANDOM STRANGER!'. you clicked the button, your cursor turning into a circle for a moment as it loaded, before you were redirected to a chatroom with a pop-up.

KILDAREUCHATS IS CONNECTING YOU TO A STRANGER...

KILDAREUCHATS HAS CONNECTED YOU! REMEMBER TO TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU WANT TO BE TREATED <3 SAY HI!

you stared at your computer screen, biting into your lower lip. you had no idea what you were supposed to say; outside of the people you already knew, you were helpless when talking to people, the words always getting stuck in your throat, or vanishing from your mind. angel's white fur blended in with your white sheets as your hand moved to absentmindedly stroke her, the little cat purring in her sleep. but before your hand could dart out to type something on your laptop, a message appeared on the screen.

STRANGER: heyy

taking in a deep breath, you shook your head, as if shaking all doubts and worries out of it. the site was anonymous; that was the whole point. and your therapist told you, that for your social anxiety to get better, you should try go socialize. mingle. you took the bottle of cheap white wine you'd snuck into your dorm, taking a large swig straight out of the bottle before setting it back down, your hands flying to your keyboard.

YOU: hi :)

STRANGER: wsp?

YOU: ...wasp?

STRANGER: lmao no... what's up?

YOU: sorry, i'm not good with that kind of lingo haha. YOU: nothing much. i'm hanging out with my cat.

STRANGER: damn, do you have an off-campus apartment or something?

YOU: nope :) YOU: don't tell my ra.

STRANGER: shit you have a CAT in your dorm?

YOU: if you tell on me, i'm gonna have to hunt you down and kill you.

STRANGER: lucky for you this is anonymous STRANGER: and i'm not a snitch lmao STRANGER: so, what are you doing on this thing at 12am on a friday night? no hot parties?

YOU: honestly, i think i'd rather put a noose around my neck than go to a party. YOU: i'm just in my room drinking wine. decided to try this site after my friend suggested it. YOU: what about you?

STRANGER: damn, kinky STRANGER: i do have a 'hot party' to go to but i also have an essay due in nine hours and the prof already hates my ass

YOU: so you decided to not write your essay and instead procrastinate by chatting with some random stranger?

STRANGER: exactly! you get it STRANGER: if i even have my laptop in front of me, i'm counting that as me writing my essay

YOU: what's it about?

STRANGER: what kind of a role religion has when it comes to politics and shit

YOU: and let me guess, that's not a topic you enjoy studying in your free time?

STRANGER: you know me so well already

YOU: if it helps, i'm also studying. or, procrastinating studying. YOU: i have a chemistry exam on monday :(

STRANGER: ...and you're studying for it on a friday already? STRANGER: i just read for exams a few minutes before they start STRANGER: compared to me you're like a genius

YOU: eyeroll. YOU: and that's why you have trouble writing an essay! YOU: you're probably missing out on a keg stand at your 'hot party'.

STRANGER: i can't believe you're making fun of the art of the stand

YOU: you'll live.

STRANGER: how do you know? maybe i'm the god of the kegstand and every time a human loses faith in me, i grow weaker

YOU: are you? YOU: oh sacred frat god? YOU: shall i make an offering for you at your altar? would that appease your distaste towards me?

STRANGER: you shall

YOU: okay, how about these for an offering: YOU: a white claw, a buzz ball, a red solo cup with a strange mixture of different kinds of alcohols, and a vape pen?

STRANGER: those appease me much, mere mortal STRANGER: also mango-flavored juul pods

YOU: you're so weird.

STRANGER: says the person who's hanging with her cat on a friday night

YOU: how do you figure i'm a her?

STRANGER: oh please STRANGER: no man would disrespect the fine art of the keg stand

YOU: got me there, frat boy.

STRANGER: that's very presumptuous STRANGER: i could just be a tomboy

YOU: please. YOU: if you're a girl then i'm sasquatch.

STRANGER: don't worry, i don't mind a little body hair

YOU: i hate you.

glancing at the clock on your wall, you'd realized that thirty minutes had already gone by. you let out a small sigh, rubbing your eyes.

YOU: i should get going. i can't keep procrastinating.

STRANGER: already?

YOU: what, are you gonna miss me or something?

STRANGER: hey, if i get a pic of bigfoot i'm gonna be making millions, i just have capitalistic tendencies

YOU: fair point.

STRANGER: you should add me as a friend

YOU: you can do that??? i thought this was an anonymous chat.

STRANGER: yeah you can lmao why else would you need to set a username STRANGER: i'll just do it

and soon enough, a pop-up appeared on your screen, with the text 'STRANGER HAS REQUESTED TO ADD YOU AS FRIEND.' along with the buttons 'ACCEPT' and 'DENY'.

you pursed your lips, your finger lingering over the touchpad, first dragging it over the button reading 'DENY', before you let out a sigh, taking a large swig from the bottle of wine, moving the cursor to 'ACCEPT' and pressing it before you could regret it.

the pop-up was now replaced with another one, reading 'CONGRATS AnnabelLee YOU ARE NOW FRIENDS WITH MalachiConstant' and when you read the stranger's name, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. you clicked the red 'x' that closed the pop-up, and the word STRANGER in your chat logs was now replaced by MalachiConstant.

YOU: really? vonnegut?

MalachiConstant: what? i don't seem like the type to read?

YOU: just surprising!

MalachiConstant: says the girl with the hard-on for poe MalachiConstant: which isn't surprising at all

YOU: har har. YOU: goodnight, weird vonnegut frat boy.

MalachiConstant: goodnight, weird poe girl

YOU HAVE LOGGED OUT OF KILDAREUCHATS.

[norrisainz33]

baby blue || cs55

☆ summary: carlos sainz is married to famous pop star y/n who has been connected to the f1 world for years having been a mercedes ambassador and good friends with lewis hamilton. after a video of y/n and lewis surfaces, y/n shares some big news with the spanish driver.

☆ pairing: carlos sainz x famous!wife!reader x lewis hamilton

☆ fc & warnings: rihanna! a little angsty, mentions of pregnancy, translated spanish

☆ requested: yes! thanks for this idea and for your patience. had to add in some written parts to this to tell the story! hope you enjoy xxoo

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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ynuser: 📍 bahrain

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user1: pink is your color

dualipa: real! miss u my sweet gorgeous girl

user33: you just gonna post like we didnt see the video from the paddock

user18: no for realllll like girl be soooo for real

user1: nah nah nah you guys need to but out you know nothing!! they're just friends. we dont need to scrutinize everything they do

tatemcrae: my icon fr

user2: ynlewis supremacy

user8: seems like shes a ynlewis truther herself bsed on that video

user3: lewishamilton come get your girl

user4: more like carlossainz55 come get your girl yikes

[comments on this post have been limited]

✿

staring down at your phone you watched as the video played over and over each replay making your stomach twist a little more. you cursed yourself for not remembering where you were before having your very public breakdown in front of lewis at ferrari hospitality. what was supposed to be a quick visit to tell lewis (one of your closest friends) that red suited him and say a quick hello to alexandra had spiraled into something entirely different. one moment you were complimenting him and the next you were sobbing in his arms. of course, the media caught every second of it and in true fashion they plastered the video everywhere. the rumors started flying almost immediately with the world convinced you and lewis were more than just friends as they have been for years.

but here's how the conversation really went:

"hi lewis!! god that red is doing wonders for you right now," you smiled as you took in the sight of your best friend decked out in ferrari gear.

"thanks, y/n/n. i think so too," he grinned - his confidence and happiness clear.

"you ready to hop in that car and show everyone you’ve still got it grandpa?"

"absolutely. you know better than anyone how much i want to make this work." his voice was full of sincerity and something about the way he said it made your chest tighten and tears started welling up in your eyes.

"oh no, don't cry on me now…" he said his hand gently brushing at your cheek.

you laughed but it was shaky as the tears fully spilled down your face. "sorry, sorry… i just - i'm so excited for you, and i miss danny and checo," you rambled suddenly feeling overwhelmed. he gave you a confused look not exactly sure where all of this was coming form.

"something tells me there's more to this, y/n/n," he said his tone shifting as he took a step closer.

without thinking, you blurted it out. "i’m pregnant."

lewis froze for a split second before pulling you into a tight hug, letting you cry into his shoulder. the kind of cry that left you feeling both raw and relieved at the same time.

"hey, hey— the cameras are loving this," alexandra’s voice suddenly broke through and she frantically pushed both of you toward the ferrari hospitality area her tone full of urgency.

as she led the way you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything.... the unexpected turn your life had taken and the way the world was watching every moment unfold and it was too late to take it all back now.

✿

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user1: wow a rare carlos sighting on a story.. awk timing after that vid....

carlossainz55: wow posting me? surprised its not lewis.

ynuser: carlos don't start please. you know its not like that

carlossainz55: then why was it lewis holding you while you were crying and not me? and why won’t you even tell me what happened?

ynuser: i did tell you. it’s just been so overwhelming lately especially with the pressure from my label to release new music. on top of that i haven’t been feeling great which makes everything harder. you literally held my hair while i threw up all night. come on carlos please.

carlossainz55: mi amor you know I’ve had a hard time with your relationship with lewis. and now that he’s taken my seat… it just gets harder to see him in ferrari red while comforting my wife. it’s hard not to feel jealous!

ynuser: i’m really sorry carlos. i can’t even imagine how that feels. focus on your last practice session and get the data you need. we can talk properly when you’re back at the hotel ok?

carlossainz55: fine but you’ll explain everything word for word right?

ynuser: of course. now go -- i see on tv that the power’s back on

carlossainz55: yeah yeah ill go. i love you -- even when im upset

ynuser: i love you too. always

user33: damage control?

alexandrasaintmleux: love you pretty girl. please let me know if you need anything both charlie and i are here for you too

ynuser: i love you more alex 🤍 thank you for always supporting me. oh and for noticing the cameras before they got too much

alexandrasaintmleux: thats what friends are for. please please please keep me updated

user10: i just know everyone's tearing u up in these replies so im here to say i love and support you bb

lewishamilton: did you tell him yet?

ynuser: considering you’re both at the same testing... no I haven’t

lewishamilton: oh don't give me that. you could have told him last night!!

ynuser: yeah well i was scared!!

lewishamilton: sweetheart, the faster you rip off the bandaid the faster he (and everyone else) stops getting the complete wrong idea

ynuser: i know i know i know!!!!!! easier said than done here lewis.

lewishamilton: he tried to approach me this morning and i was able to avoid it but if he comes to me and starts asking what is up... i'm not going to lie

ynuser: alright message received. him and i agreed to talk everything out tonight.

lewishamilton: good.

user11: idc abt this man release new music pls im begging its been ages

schecoperez: mi amiga what in the world is going on?

ynuser: too much honestly... i'll call you bc BOY do i have a lot to share and ALSO i miss you SO MUCH

schecoperez: will be impatiently waiting :)

user44: tbh idc abt f1.. id rather see pics of u. free my queen from this nonsense sport!!!!

✿

you flopped back onto the giant hotel bed letting out a big sigh. alex and lily had just left after giving you the pep talk of a lifetime and dropping off the cake. if it wasn't for them and all the effort they’d put into running around bahrain to find someone who could make you this cake, you probably would’ve chickened out of telling carlos altogether. it wasn’t something either of you had planned for yet. you’d only gotten married a few months ago and between carlos switching to a new team and the insane pressure your label had been piling on you, it felt like the wrong time to be having a baby. hence, your breakdown in the paddock with lewis. but like alex and lily said everything happens for a reason and maybe this was just the moment it was meant to happen, no matter how daunting it all felt.

you quickly sat up when you heard carlos fumbling with the door to the hotel room and immediately, tears started to well up. you tried to hold them back but they came rushing down as soon as carlos stepped through the door. his brow furrowed when he saw you crying on the bed.

"mi amor..." he sighed setting his things down on the couch and shrugging off his williams jacket. "what’s going on with you?" he asked gently kneeling in front of you and placing his hands on your bare knees.

you were fully sobbing now desperately wiping away the tears as he watched you in silence. "i just... i..." you tried to speak but the words got tangled up in your sobs making it harder to get them out.

"cariño take a deep breath," he said softly taking your hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze. you obeyed and took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. which wasn’t easy these days with all the changes your body was going through. eventually you shook your head not being able to calm yourself enough and pointed toward the box on the table hoping he would understand. carlos’ eyes followed your finger and he stood up walking over to the table. "y/n, what is...?" he stopped mid-sentence struck silent as he stared down at the contents of the box—a small cake with 'we’re having a baby' written on it and a pregnancy test sitting next to it.

you kept focusing on your breathing summoning the courage to look at your husband who stood completely still. in the endless seconds it took for him to react - guilt, panic, and despair began to settle in. "i’m sorry, carlos, i know this is a horrible time. i should’ve told you earlier, we should’ve talked about this first, and i just—i’m sorry this—"

"stop, y/n," he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. you couldn’t tell if the tears in his eyes were good or bad. but then in the blink of an eye, his face softened and his expression lightened up. "don’t apologize for this, my love." he picked up the test and glanced back at you. "this is real?"

"yes," you whispered.

he dropped the test moving swiftly toward you and pulling you into a tight embrace. "we’re going to have a baby chili," he mumbled into your neck holding you like he never wanted to let go. and with that all of your worries melted away.

✿

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lando: what u posting close ups of food for

ynuser: you’ll find out when you’re older

lando: tf that supposed to mean

ynuser: means you can’t keep a secret to save your life

lando: a man accidentally includes a photo from a wedding in 1!!!! photo dump and he can’t ever come back from it

ynuser: exactly

lando: 🤨

lilymhe: THE CAKE HAS BEEN EATEN???

ynuser: it has!!!!!! and everything is ok

lilymhe: i’m so relieved

carlossainz55: the best cake i’ve ever had 🤍

ynuser: i'm really quite glad you think so

carlossainz55: of course gorgeous. i am so excited that we get to be parents

ynuser: i'm so happy that you're happy

carlossainz55: over the moon actually. i already called the florist and local bakery near casa de mi familia to get everything sorted for when we tell them in a couple weeks. i also sent you room service and some special deliveries so if you hear a loud knock on the door this morning, just know its from me

ynuser: carlos 😭😭😭😭

carlossainz55: i also may or may not have already slipped and told teto..........

ynuser: I THOUGHT WE WERE TELLING HIM AND GIGI AT DINNER ONCE YOU OFFICIALLY FINISHED TESTNG

carlosainz55: ....... i mean that was the plan originally but we were cycling this morning and he could tell something was up and well i couldnt lie!! i swore him to secrecy it is ok

ynuser: i'm making my lawyers send him an nda

carlossainz55: LOL

ynuser: i'm serious

carlossainz55: oh... well in that case… whatever makes you feel best my love!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: details mon ange

ynuser: he finally got back after testing and i completely broke down into tears bc of course i did—im a mess with these hormones. he immediately was worried ofc and was like “mi amor, what’s wrong?” but I couldn’t even stop crying long enough to explain. so i just pointed at the cake box instead and then be opened it, stared at it for what felt like an eternity… honestly, it was probably 8 million years and then HE started crying. which just made me cry even more. but honestly after we got everything out it felt like really good. he was beyond excited like already talking about the little one and brainstorming names and looking up where to buy baby clothes in spain and already planning how to tell his family and mine

alexandrasaintmleux: 🥹😭 see!! it was all ok!!! i’m so so so glad he was excited. i knew he would be!! he wanted so badly to be dad

lewishamilton: so?

ynuser: i told him

lewishamilton: thank god!! now i can assume uncle duties without getting my face bashed in

ynuser: you’re so dramatic

yourbff: i’m so happy for you guys 😭

ynuser: thank you sweetheart 😘

dualipa: assuming i’m missing context here

ynuser: i’ll face time you baby girl

carlossainz55 has posted to his story

[sharing the joy with our family ☀️💙]

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anasainzvdec: mi hermano i am so excited for you. i can't wait to be an auntie 🤍

carlossainz55: i love you ana! you will be the world's best aunt

user2: PINON!!!!!!

carlossainzoficial: ¡tal vez la mayor alegría que hayas podido compartir con nosotros! [perhaps the greatest joy you could have shared with us!]

carlossainz55: me alegro. no puedo esperar a que seas abuelo, papá. [i am glad. i can't wait for you to be a grandfather, dad]

carlossainzoficial: estoy muy orgulloso del hombre en el que te has convertido y de la vida que has construido con y/n. [i'm so proud of the man you have become and the life you have built with y/n]

carlossainz55: ¡no me hagas llorar papá! [don't make me cry dad]

user4: sharing joy??? with your family..... what does this mean?

lando: google translating this as we speak

lando: and what joy are you sharing and why are you not also sharing it with me?

carlossainz55: i will be on sunday muppet. you are coming to dinner at my house no?

lando: oh heck yeah ill be there

user18: what an interesting wording you have here mr.sainz - what are you talking about?

ynuser: petition to bring pinon with us everywhere

carlossainz55: jajaaj i don't know that she would like that

ynuser: 😭😭😭😭😭 fair ig. tho i think a baby and a puppy would be a perfect pair......

user55: the world is healing youre back with pinon

alexandrasaintmleux: EEEEEEK!!!!!! y/n filled me in on how it went. truly so excited for you. i can't wait for the big dinner party where you're telling all of us 🤍

carlossainz55: i am very much looking forward to this weekend. we'll see you soon mi amiga

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carlossainz55: spent the weekend celebrating the news with some of my favorite people. you are so loved already baby chili. you're mommy, daddy and loads of aunties and uncles can't wait to meet you so very soon 💙🌶️

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user55: crying my eyes out rn you have no idea

ynuser: thankful for you, our baby boy, and the amazing people we have supporting us 🤍

carlossainz55: even more thankful for you for giving me the greatest gift i could have ever asked for my beautiful wife

user85: may a love like this find me expeditiously

user1: well…. a baby wasn’t on my bingo card

lando: dibs on teaching baby chili how to drive

charlesleclerc: i already called dibs

georgerussell63: no i believe i did

carlossainz55: frankly, i dont trust any of you to teach him

charlesleclerc: WOW

user4: congratulations 😭 i'm seething with jealousy 😭

alex_albon: can't wait to be the favorite uncle

lilymhe: with me as the favorite aunt

alexandrasaintmleux: um hello? i'm going to be the favorite aunt

lando: FALSE I AM THE FAVORITE AUNT

ynuser: guys please lets not fight

user23: carlando having their own pic at the end is sending me. classic carlando behavior

user13: man this vroom vroom got my girl and now they’re having a baby? smh

lewishamilton: congratulations you two! overjoyed to see two of my favorite people becoming parents ❤️

carlossainz55: thank you 💙

user88: tea

user56: so many of the drivers being at their baby shower has me in genuine shambles im not ok this grid baby is going to be so loved

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: phew this took me forever... hope you enjoy!! likes and reblogs appreciated as always ❤️‍🔥

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[millers-angel]

workshop mechanic!joel x female reader

summary: joel is fixing up your car and you have no payment method other than letting him fuck you. warnings: age gap, mean joel, dubcon (not really but just in case), possesive joel, smut, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

he was all greasy, finishing the job on your truck, you've been here all day, just... staring and getting on his nerves, like you always do.

but now his back is all sweaty and you can see it through his shirt. his hair was messy, strands sticking to his forehead, stubborn curls that drives you crazy, and his hands were covered in oil, but you love to see them working, the way his thick fingers hold tools, the way he makes it look so easy, the way his forearms are smudged by grease too.

he wiped his brow with the back of his wrist, leaving a dark stain above his eyebrow, but it didn't seem to bother him—or you. not that you complain of this view, if anything, he looked even better, hotter like that—rough.

you leaned against the door of the truck, trying not to stare, but failing miserably. the truck had been acting up for weeks, and you needed it fixed desperately.

joel grunted, dropping a wrench on the ground, making a sound that made you wince. "damn thing's tighter than i thought," he muttered, wiping his hands on an old rag.

then, without warning, he crouched down and slid under the truck, his legs sticking out as he twisted to reach something underneath. his shirt rolled up just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his tummy, sweaty and hairy... a soft little belly, not flat but firm, surely he spend most of the time here, working hard.

greyish hair scattered across his skin, a messy trail leading down. your eyes followed it before you could stop yourself, your cheeks flushed when you realized where it led but heat rised up between your legs.

you bit your lip, looking away before he caught you staring.

you could hear him cursing under his breath, low and rough, voice muffled by the truck. for some reason, it sent shivers to your core, the way he gets upset so easily, the way he curses, the way he grunts.

you swallowed, feeling a heat in your cheeks. you shouldn't be thinking about him like this—especially not when you still didn't know how you were gonna pay him, you should be thinking about how to pay him, he's gonna get upset to you when you tell him he worked so hard just to wait a bit for the payment, since you don't have the money yet.

but the sight of him all dirty and sweaty, working so hard just for you... it did things to your core.

he finally slid out from under the truck, lying flat on his back for a moment, catching his breath, panting. his chest rose and fell, soaked in sweat. he turned his head, looking up at you with that intense stare that made your knees go weak, it isn't the first time he makes you feel like this, it isn't the first time he fixed your truck, but it's the first time you have no money to pay him.

he stood up, groaning. he slammed the hood shut, wiping his hands on a dirty rag before tossing it aside. "should be good now. damn thing was clogged up pretty bad."

you took a deep breath. "thanks, joel... i really needed that fixed."

he turned to you, leaning against the truck, his arms crossed over his chest, muscles bulging. "you're gonna have to pay me for this, you know," he said, voice low and teasing. "ain't a charity."

your heart sank. that was the question you'd been dreading. you shifted on your feet, looking down, feeling your cheeks warm. "i know... i just don't really have the money right now..." you felt stupid saying it out loud, knowing how it sounded.

he wiped his hands again, grease staining his skin and huffed, you knew it, he would get upset with all the right reasons. but you couldn't do it other way, you need the truck. "you don't have money? what's that supposed to mean?"

"i'll pay you, i promise. i need the truck to make some deliveries and when i get paid—"

he interrupted you by laughing with no trace of humor behind it. "you gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

you blinked. "i can also ask my dad for money, i—"

he huffed. "what? you're gonna call your daddy?" he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "the same man who wastes his shitty salary on beer and booze? yeah, good luck with that."

you sighed, looking down. "i'm sorry, joel, but i needed the truck. i will pay you, i swear." your voice too soft and vulnerable for his liking.

his eyes flicked over you before he could stop himself, trailing down your bare legs, those tiny shorts hugging your hips tightly, that little top shaping your curves. he'd seen you before, always messing around, always so damn confident. at the bar, laughing and flirting, always sure of yourself.

but he's never seen you like now. eyes down, voice soft, almost shy. he wasn't used to seeing you like this—vulnerable. damn. you looked so small, so sweet, standing there all nervous. it did something to him, made him wanna close the distance between you. made him wonder what other sides of you he hadn't seen yet.

made him think of other ways you could pay him back... ways that had nothing to do with money.

"we'll figure somethin' out." his voice was rough, deep, and the way he looked at you... it felt like he already had an idea of how you were gonna pay him back.

and, judging by the way your heart raced, you weren't exactly opposed to it.

"what do you mean?" you whispered.

"get on your knees."

you nibbled your lip. "are you being for real?"

"do i look like joking?" his gaze still dark.

you gulped, just looking at him through your lashes.

"come on, sweetheart," he says, his voice dropping to a low growl. "don't make me ask twice."

you kneel as he asked, not leaving his gaze for one second—which drove him crazy. he cupped your jaw, tightening his grip just enough to make you open your mouth.

"now, you're gonna pay me." he drawled. "you're gonna suck on my cock and then i'm gonna fuck you on your truck. understood?"

you gulped and nodded.

you wouldn’t oppose. joel had been on your mind for a while now—always busy, always smudgy, always sweaty. and some nights… you’d see him at the bar, a cigarette between his fingers, whiskey in the other hand. alone. always alone.

there was something about him that pulled you in, something quiet. he never said much, never let anyone too close, and maybe that was what made you want him even more. the mystery, the roughness. but now, he wants you to suck him off, just like that.

"do you do this to every woman in the town? huh?" you licked your lips as you started unbuckling his belt.

he chuckled. "nah," he murmured, eyes dark with amusement. "only the ones that beg real pretty."

you unzipped his jeans. "i haven't begged you."

"you will."

a shiver ran down your spine, his words sinking deep, settling low in your stomach. it was a slow, burning kind of heat, something that spread through your chest, down your legs, curling at your core like the sweetest kind of ache.

you were about to pull down his jeans but then looked over him. "what if someone sees, joel?"

you sat on your knees, looking up to him. "you know this is a small town, the gossips—"

he leaned just a bit to pat your cheeks. "then i bet all they're gonna talk about is how pretty you look sucking cock."

you feel your cheeks getting warmer. joel grins as he watches you blush, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. he runs his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"you're so damn cute when you're shy," he says, his voice low. "but don't worry, i'll keep you all to myself."

he steps even closer, towering over you, his jeans now unbuttoned and halfway down his thighs. your eyes widened when you spotted how bulky he was... and you're sure he wasn't even full hard.

you toyed the waistband of his boxers, eager to what you're about to find.

and it was just as you imagined. you parted your lips just a little. his hand immediately stroked his length. "don't tell me you've never seen one before."

you raised your gaze. "i have," then it drifted back to his cock. "but never this big."

he steps even closer, his hand moving faster as he grips your hair and pulls your head towards his crotch.

"open your mouth," he says, his voice a growl. "and suck it like the good girl you are."

joel watches as you obey, his eyes dark with lust as you take him into your mouth. he lets out a guttural moan, his fingers tightening in your hair as he feels your tongue against him.

"that's it, just like that," he gasps, his hips rocking forward slightly.

joel's eyes flutter shut again as he focuses on the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. he lets out a low moan as he feels your plump, soft lips wrapped around his cock. they feel so good on him. he could spend hours just watching you suck him off. you took him so well, your hands cupped his sack, toyed his balls, make him feel in heaven.

joel's breath hitches again as you toy with his balls, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth. he lets out a low curse, his fingers digging into your hair even more as he tries to control himself.

"fuck, you're gonna make me come," he groans. "keep going, sweetheart. don't stop."

joel's hips start to thrust of their own accord, his body moving with a mind of its own as he loses himself in the sensation of your mouth on him.

joel's eyes lock onto yours as he watches your eyes tear up, of course, he was too much for you, but even so, you didn't want to stop. he can see the way you're struggling to take him all the way down your throat.

"look at you," he mutters. "you look so beautiful like this. tears in your eyes, my cock in your mouth."

he can feel his balls tightening, his release building up inside him.

but before he could come, he pulls you up from the floor, barely giving you time to react when his hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly. he turns you around and pushes you against the passenger seat of your truck, trapping you between the door and his body.

joel's eyes trails over your body as he pins you against the truck, his hands running down your sides and to the waistband of your shorts. he grips the fabric and yanks it down, his fingers digging into your thighs as he exposes more of you to him.

"damn," he muttered. "you're even more beautiful like this."

joel's eyes widen as he looks at your exposed body, his gaze fixated on your ass and your slit. he lets out a low growl, his fingers tracing over your skin as he takes in the sight of you.

you looked at him over your shoulder. "you're gonna fuck me?"

a smile tugged at his lips, while his cock teased on your slit, hips bucking just enough to make

you moan. "that's what you want. you're so wet for me," his voice raspy. "look at how desperate you are. you're practically dripping for cock."

you close your eyes when you feel his cock rubbing between your thighs. you'd be lying to yourself—to him, if you say you didn't want this. he can feel your body responding to him, feeling how stiffened you get, how you shiver and most importantly, how slick you're getting.

he pressed the tip of his cock on your clit. a whimper left your mouth. 

but he was just teasing, yeah, he was giving you pleasure but not what you needed—his cock inside you.

he even moved your panty aside, watching the string of fluids that came from your pussy get sticked to the piece of fabric. 

he started to rub his cock between your bare pussy and your panty, tightening the piece of fabric, giving himself pleasure.

"joel—" you whined. "please."

"what?" he growled.

you bite your lip, looking at him over your shoulder with pleading eyes. "fuck me, please."

he smirked. "yeah?"

he didn't stop rubbing himself on you—which got you desperate, so you started grinding your hips against his, trying to get relief. trying to get him to fuck you properly.

"joel, please—fuck me, please."

he lets out a low groan, his hips moving in time with yours, his cock sliding against your clit with each movement. "that's it, sweetheart," he rasps. "you want me to fuck you, don't you? you want me to fill you up and make you scream my name."

"yes, please, i'm begging you."

joel's grip on your hips tightens as he hears your plea, his own need growing even stronger. he lifts you up slightly, his hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart.

"you're mine," he growls, his voice possessive. "mine to take, mine to ruin."

he thrusts up against you, his cock sliding into the space between your thighs, pressing against your entrance.

"you're gonna be my cumdump until you pay your debt,"

"yes—fuck, yes."

he guides you down onto his lap, his hands on your hips guiding you to sink down on his cock.

he watches as you take him in, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of you around him.

"so damn tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips.  he leans forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there. you do nothing but moan and grip on the seat as he pounds you as he wants. 

joel's mouth moves down to your shoulder, his teeth leaving marks on your skin as he continues to thrust up into you. 

"that's it, just like that," he murmurs against your skin. "you were made for this cock."

his hands move from your hips to your thighs, holding you in place as he drives into you harder and faster. you roll your eyes, feeling your walls throbbing, your legs going week. he's sending you in a bliss.

but he didn't get enough, it feels like he haven't fucked in months, it feels like he was starving for this.

joel can feel you starting to tighten around him, your body getting closer and closer to the edge. he feels a surge of pleasure and possessiveness wash over him, knowing that he's the one making you feel this way.

"joel, don't stop, i'm—close." his movements suddenly grew slower, you whined and looked at him over your shoulder. "please, joel."

"tell me you're gonna be my cumdump until you pay your debt." you made a face—not because you didn't want to. because you knew he was making this—teasing you, to piss you off. "say it."

you wiggled your hips. "i'm gonna be your cumdump until i pay my debt."

"that it," he hissed. "good girl."

 joel's thrusts become more urgent, his hips snapping up against yours as he chases his own release too. he can feel your body tensing and trembling in his arms, and he knows you're about to fall apart.

"come on, angel," he whispers, his voice rough with need.

he buries his face in your neck again, biting down on your skin as he thrusts one final time, pushing you both over the edge.

"oh god, i'm gonna come," he gasps, his voice almost a whimper. 

joel's body tenses as he comes, his release flooding into you. he lets out a low moan, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you tightly against him.

"fuck," he gasps, his breath ragged. 

he keeps you there for a moment, both of you catching your breath, his body still trembling slightly from the intensity of his orgasm.

joel slowly pulls out of you, his fingers trailing through the mess between your legs.

"look at that," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction to see how flushed and pounded you are.

he lifts his fingers to your mouth, sliding them between your lips. "taste yourself," he commands.

and so you did when you felt his other hand cupping your pussy, his thumb finding your sensitive clit, drawing circles around it. you wrapped your lips around his fingers and tasted you both.

"so obedient," he chuckled. "we're gonna have fun."

"fuck you." you muttered. he swatted your ass. "told ya you’d beg for cock."

♡

[bambiihee]

5 or 10 with Hyunjin, whichever fits him more eeek >.< ALSO CONGRATULATIONS FOR 500 ♡♡♡♡♡♡

TONGUE TIED༚ ── h.hj

your new boyfriend eats you out for the first time.

▸ PAIRING༚ 황현진 x fem!reader ▸ WC༚ 1. 2 k ▸ GENRE༚ just straight filthy smut, some fluff, pwp ▸ WARNINGS༚ NSFW, MDNI! est. relationship, oral sex (f. rec), vaginal fingering, first time oral, munch!hyune, soft dom!hyunjin, dirty talk, praise kink, lots of pet names

[ note༚ ] part two of fifteen for my 500 followers event!

5. "No. I'm supposed to be making you feel good."

“R-really? Um... are you sure?” you mumble, hesitant and nervous, fighting the overwhelming urge to close your legs— you’re fairly sure you couldn’t anyway, even if you tried, with how roughly Hyunjin was gripping onto your thighs. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to—“

“I do want to.” he breathes against your skin, eyes blown out wide, irises darker than night, staring down at your bare pussy with a hunger you’ve never seen quite so intense before. Licking his lips as if he was craving your taste on his tongue. “Fuck, I want to so bad, baby, please, can I? I’ll make you feel so good, I promise…” 

The thumb that had been rubbing comforting circles into your inner thigh glides down to press gently at your clit— you keen, wet sticky folds fluttering, your thighs shuddering on either side of your boyfriend’s head. You were far from a virgin, but Hyunjin never failed to make you feel like one; in just the few short months you've been dating he's made you feel pleasure you didn’t think was possible, so unbelievably enthusiastic in giving it to you as good as he can… and when you had brought up that you had never been eaten out before, all of your exes’ repulsed by the idea, Hyunjin couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to introduce you to something new. 

He swore to you that eating pussy was one of his most favorite things in the world, but you weren’t quite sure if you believed him. It sounded ridiculous.

“Wh-what if I... don’t taste good, or something?” you cringe. To your horror, Hyunjin actually laughs, the sharp exhales of his breath fanning across your heated skin.  

“Oh, Babydoll... I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you since I met you. Can’t believe no one’s ever ate this pretty pussy, it's so fuckin’ wet for me… you want my tongue, don’t you baby?” his thumb dips down lower, the pad of it teasing at your hole. Your pussy fluttered from the feeling, dribbling slick and so achingly empty, the barely-there pressure making you whine high in your throat. You’ve played this game before, your boyfriend ever so predictable— Hyunjin won’t give it to you until you ask him to, and you better ask him nicely.  

“Jinnie, please…” you whimper, resolve all but disintegrating when he shoots you a crooked grin and presses his index and middle finger up against your entrance.

“Please what, love?” your little hole started to open up around the pads of his fingers, not dipping in entirely quiet yet— it was nowhere near enough, the ghost of a stretch, teasing you with memories of his cock parting your walls…  

“Fuck, I... want your mouth, want your fingers— please, please, please!” 

“That's my good girl~” Hyunjin drawls, voice almost at a growl, and he dives in without warning— you’re assaulted with the feeling of his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue sliding hot and heavy between your folds, long thick fingers diving into your cunt and curling against your sweet spot just right. You cry out sharply, toss your head back against the pillows, completely overwhelmed by all of the sensations; you can feel him smirking against your cunt. 

His fingers fuck into you nice and slow, filling you up so deep, pulling you towards the edge with practiced ease, the pleasure almost unbearable but in the most delicious way... a stark contrast to how harshly he sucked at your clit, pouty lips swollen and mouth hot and wet, ecstasy unlike anything you’ve felt before rolling through your body sharp like electricity, so so good it’s almost painful— you shriek when he changes angles, thrusts his fingers a little faster, a little harder, and you push hard at his head until he pulls off of your cunt. He seems to have some serious trouble getting your pussy out of his mouth.

“What’s the matter, doll? Don’t like it?” Hyunjin asks gently, handsome face flushed pink, his lips and chin wet with your arousal, his fingers still buried deep in your tight hole… you whimper at the sight of him, thick thighs still shaking from the aftershocks. 

“T-too much, Jinnie.” your pussy throbbed, clit pulsated, the knot in your belly tight— he coos, just condescending enough to make you clench around his fingers, and he presses a chaste, wet kiss to your inner thigh.    

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, I've got you— pussy tastes so fucking good, shit, can’t hold myself back..” he gently pulls his fingers out, watches in rapture at how your folds quiver and dribble slick, “You're doing so good, honey, just lie back and feel good~” 

“I... taste good?” you echo in a small voice. 

 “Mhm. Perfect lil cunt for me,” Hyunjin stares longingly at your twitching pussy like he misses it, huffing the deep breaths he denied himself when he was buried between your thighs. “Need you on my mouth again, taste so addicting, holy shit— I’ll be gentler this time baby, I promise, just gotta make you cum in my mouth. Please? Gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard, gotta taste it when you do—“

He dives back in again before you can stop him, pushing your thighs up roughly until they hit your chest; you've never felt this exposed before, every inch of your most intimate areas spread open for Hyunjin to see, touch, taste, worship. You can't hold back your surprised squeal when he shoves his tongue in your hole as deep as it could go, the sensation so alien but feeling better than you could have ever even imagine. He eats you like a starved animal, tongue and lips everywhere all at once, grunting and groaning into your heat like he was the one receiving pleasure and not you-- the wet smacking noises makes your face burn, so filthy and obscene you could hardly stand hearing it, but your cunt throbs and pulsates as if it was begging for more, more, more.

Hyunjin gives it to you. He gives you everything, his fuzzy buzz cut tickling the insides of your thighs and adding to the growing fire in your belly.

Focusing so hard on your hole, your little swollen clit feels neglected-- it's the extra spark of pleasure you need to reach your climax, so close but so far away, and you find yourself reaching down before you even realize you were moving.

Hyunjin catches you instantly, siren eyes locking up onto yours before he grabs your wrist in an iron grip, tugging your hand away sharply without ever once disconnecting himself from your pussy. "Nuh-uh. Greedy girl." he chides, barely understandable with his mouth full, tongue sliding out of your hole to lick broad stripes between your folds. "I'm supposed to be the one making you feel good, remember? Keep those hands up where I can see them."

He releases your wrist for you to tangle your fingers back into the bedsheets, arms limp at your sides-- you're rewarded with a harsh suck to your clit, Hyunjin's teeth grazing over your engorged nub just enough to make you jolt.

You whimper, fucked out, confused, and a little surprised; Hyunjin hardly ever acts like this, so controlling, so focused on pleasuring you that he just wants you to stay still and take it. Maybe he does like eating pussy as much as he says he does.

[ozzgin]

Is it weird I kinda want a monster Incel? Like he believes all humans are supposed to be a certain way but then they meet the first human and are initially disillusioned/upset but over time begin to regret their actions after falling in love and seeing humans as more than really hot porn/pictures online

content: gender neutral reader, NSFW

I'm thinking of a monster incel who is deeply envious and frustrated because he thinks humans only like conventionally attractive monsters.

He reads the comments from the human world with a resentful frown. "Of course he's hot," he grunts, eyeing the rather tasteful sketch of a tall, muscular orc. He turns to the mirror for comparison: multiple limbs, tendrils, a gargantuan body of darkness and blight. He doesn't have abs, nor a handsomely pale complexion and chiseled jaw. He is but an abstract aberration, a crooked ghoul.

It only makes sense that when he encounters you, his yearning and curiosity are swiftly replaced by anger. Give it a moment to fully process his existence, and you'll be disappointed, perhaps frightened. Maybe even disgusted.

He might as well get something out of this unplanned affair. With instinctual greed, he pins you to the ground, taking in your scent. His heart throbs with anticipation. How will you react once he's deep inside you, thrusting relentlessly and with sheer indifference to your protests? His razor-sharp teeth clamp together in seething jealousy; he can almost hear your sobs, feel your little fingers clawing around his hideous body, trying to escape. Of course, he's not the kind of monster you wanted. He's not-

Underneath his heaving chest, your small human form lays limp. He considers whether you've already given up and accepted your fate, when he notices the perverted grin spread across your face. It seems he never considered the possibility of a true monster fucker.

"Well? What're you staring for," you say with impatience, gesturing for the beast to hurry up and fuck you already.

Is it too late to ask you out on a proper date?

[specialgradefckr]

here, kitty, kitty!

tw: dubcon, hybrid au, reader is literally a pet, loss of bodily autonomy, examination kink, slight medical play, piercings, possession

So, Satoru wants to get a cat hybrid.

Suguru supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Satoru's never hidden his porn history or anything. He's constantly suggesting they find a third, while instantly rejecting all suggestions.

A diva like him couldn't have sex with just anyone. And for Suguru himself, well, he preferred to have a certain level of... control in a relationship.

Which suited Satoru fine, most of the time, and Suguru was willing to concede on the rare occasion.

But Suguru doesn't have cat ears, a tail, and a pussy, and he can even admit that he misses the fairer sex sometimes, too.

They've been together so long, know each other so well. Familiarity breeding boredom, maybe. They're happy together, but Satoru wants more.

He's also incredibly needy, exactly the type of child who would beg mommy and daddy for a pet kitty.

That's also the type of child cats tend to despise. But no matter how many times he tries to explain it - "It's not that simple, Satoru" "A pet is a serious commitment, you know" - Satoru, much like a whining child, just doesn't listen.

And, well, Suguru is getting tired of telling him.

So that's how they end up here - with you.

A beautiful thing. All curled up in the corner of your stall - cage, really. Your ears twitch at the noise, and you look up, wide-eyed and anxious in a way that tugs his heartstrings.

It's truly a pity that you're at a place like this.

The interior is well-decorated, clean, with lush carpets and furnishings. The interior of your cage has a soft-looking blanket bunched up in it, and plush bedding in the back.

But there's no mistaking its purpose. In the background, there are moans, whimpers, and the occasional sob.

Throughout the wide room, a few pets were being taken out, paraded for potential owners. Poked and prodded and played with.

You, like all the others, are completely naked.

These hybrids are for sex.

Suguru had almost wanted to leave right away, but Satoru had been so excited, dragging him in by the hand. "Just look! We only have to look!"

After the assistant, a tall, well-dressed blonde man, guides them to the cat section, he's starting to think this isn't Satoru's first time here.

And that's when they'd found you, the sorry thing that you are.

Something trickles down his spine at the thought that you'll be seen by others, sold off, used for sex at your owner's discretion.

"Ooooh, I love this one!" Satoru sounds excited. "Can we take a closer look?"

Nodding, the assistant unlatches your cage. You look out, carefully, with big wide eyes, and the assistant waves you out, but you don't move.

He goes in with a leather lead, latching it to your collar, tugging until you finally crawl out, ears tilted back as your tail curls around your body.

Suguru accepts the lead in one hand as the man steps out for a moment.

The assistant reappears pushing a cart of what looks like medical instruments. Tongue depressors, stethoscopes... lubricant.

"All our pets are virgins. You aren't permitted to have sex but you're free to examine them however you like."

Suguru stands there, silent and shocked while Satoru gleefully agrees.

With a tap of his hand to your back, the assistant guides you to lean forwards, chest pressed against the floor, ass up, right in the middle of the shop in front of them.

Your tail sways gently, curling around Satoru's hand when he grasps at it, delighted, running his hand through it and down the length of your body.

"She soooo cute! Look at her pretty tail. And that ass." He whistles, smacking you on the flank.

Suguru watches your whole body flinch at the contact, but you stiffen up, staying in position. He feels a weird, light flip in his belly. This sort of thing was crazy to begin with... but wouldn't it be better to adopt you than leave you here?

He can't even see your face, meet your eyes. Something inside him screams to comfort you; gather your smaller figure up tightly in his arms and squeeze.

"It'll be all right," Suguru finds himself saying, effortlessly smooth as he approaches you. Gently petting the side of your head, watching the ear on that side tilt to accommodate him. Cute.

Well. He supposes he's a cat person, too.

Satoru is still cooing and groping over your admittedly fine body. Suguru can't help but notice how you stiffen under Satoru's wandering touch, but lean into his gentle pets.

He kneels by your head so he can scratch behind your ear, catching the side of your pretty face.

You reward his efforts with a slight, barely noticeable purr - one that goes away when you gasp, face flushing.

That'd be Satoru.

"See, look at her getting wet already! I bet she looks real good taking dick." Satoru says with a giggle as he reaches your pussy, giving your clit a little rub and teasing your entrance.

The employee, straight-faced, gestures towards the instruments beside him.

"As I said, our pets are kept as virgins until they're sold, so you can't have sex with them. But any other form of examination is permitted, including penetrative ones."

Satoru gives him that terrible, impish grin. "C'mon Suguru. We should check she's in good health before we get her."

"Who said we're getting her?" Suguru shoots back, stroking tenderly over your head, down your back, in soothing motions.

There's a sparkle in Satoru's eyes; he knows Suguru isn't willing to leave this shelter without you.

Those terrible, wicked, beautiful eyes glance over the instruments, mouth splitting into a grin as he fixes his gaze on one of them.

Pulling out the speculum, Satoru slinks towards your backside. Tracing lines over your folds, fondling your clit with purpose.

"See! Soooo wet," He coos, positioning the speculum at your entrance.

Suguru pulls away from you to sit next to Satoru, "Be careful. That's not a toy."

"I know, I know!"

Satoru's tone isn't exactly reassuring to you. Still, you can't do anything but hold yourself up, your ass and cunt bare and exposed to them as the cool metal slides in.

Just the feeling of it spreading you open has you whimpering, tail curling around your thigh.

Suguru's hand comes to rest at the base of your tail, near your back, petting down it in a gliding motion.

"There's a good girl, hm," His voice has a heady satisfaction to it, fingers curling around your tail, "Just hold still for us, don't be afraid. We won't hurt you."

You can't help your reaction, keening under his soothing, affectionate tone. A little whine escapes you as the cool metal slides deeper in, and Suguru makes an effort to reach down and pet your head again.

"Yeah!" Satoru chirps. "See, it's not so bad!"

Somehow, this, too, fails to reassure you. However, one of his hands sneaks around to rub over your clit, until you're dripping, clenching around the metal instrument.

"Good kitty," Suguru murmurs, and you find a shameful, low rumble building in your belly.

Satoru notices, though, "She likes it!" - to your horror, he slides the speculum all the way in, and starts spreading it - you - wide open.

"Here, Suguru, don't you want a look?" Satoru says, spreading you one-handed. His other hand rubs just close enough to your clit to keep the arousal lit.

"Hm..." Suguru hums.

But Satoru knows him - knows that this is as close to a yes as he can bring himself to admit to an idea he hadn't suggested himself.

You're so cute, too, he can't help but stroke your pretty little folds, all soft and wet for him. Even as he gapes your cunt wide, it's drooling all over his fingers. You're a natural. So perfect~

"Just look!" Excitement shoots through his chest, "You can see inside... that's her cervix, right?"

He does see it, they both do, that tender, reddened roundness at the end of your pretty little passageway. Walls straining against the speculum, a tight little hole winking at them at the very end.

Like a prize. Like an invitation.

It stirs a terrible, primal heat in Suguru's loins. Seeing so deep inside you. So far. You've almost certainly never even seen this part of yourself... it's only for him. For him and Satoru.

For them to see right now. And later, feel it kissing their dicks, hot and wet as you get filled up with their cum...

"God," Satoru says out loud, "I just want to take her here and now, you know? This cute cunt would look so nice all swollen and dripping with cum, yeah? Right, Su-gu-ru~?"

It's so painfully obvious by now; Satoru had already scouted you in this shelter. He'd picked you out on purpose.

Somehow, he's not even upset. But he can't just say that. Even if he's already itching to have you home, with his name on your collar and your leash in his hands, to play with...

"She looks... healthy." Suguru says, glancing at the employee.

The assistant nods shortly. "As you can see, she has a very strong pelvic floor, and she's in prime breeding condition. Our pets are kept in perfect health." 

A pause. "Is she in fit to go home today?" Suguru asks, ignoring how Satoru nearly cheers at the statement.

"All of our pets are. If they weren't completely healthy, they wouldn't be on display. We take their care very seriously here."

Suguru nods again, and the assistant leaves to retrieve the final adoption papers.

Satoru pulls the speculum out, and Suguru takes a moment to press his body into your thigh, supporting you, petting over you.

"You were so good for us," He cooes, "Don't be scared. There's a good girl," Suguru hums as your tail slides against him, "You're coming home with us, now. Aren't you excited?"

There's a terrible relief that pours through you at the words good girl, at the gentleness with which those large hands guide you to a much more comfortable position, sitting at his feet.

You press yourself against his lower legs, looking up at him shyly, feeling a purr glow through your chest as Suguru smiles down at you.

He's so nice. The other man is lecherous, a bit scary, but it'll be okay as long as this nice man is here, right?

It seems almost finished, as the employee returns - but the white-haired man, the extra pretty one, raises a brow at an option on the paperwork.

"Clit piercings?" Satoru's voice seems extra excited, "Is that an option? Instead of the microchip?"

Piercing? You stiffen at the word. To say you didn't like pain would be a dramatic understatement. Just the thought of some needle near your flesh, a hole that won't heal...

Suguru's hand comes down onto your head, running through your hair, brushing all the thoughts away as you lean into his touch.

It's hard not to crave the warmth, the gentleness. You're only a hybrid, after all, bred for companionship and affection.

The employee pauses for a moment sighing, "It's not an option for all pets. It's a clitoral hood piercing, which can house a micro-sized, state of the art gps tracker. The issue is, it requires some delicate handling. You would have to keep her still, and ideally, keep her clit hard, so it's easier to avoid."

Satoru pulls you up into his arms, like you're no lighter than a switch - you yelp, but he just laughs.

He sits back onto a chair, holding you in his lap and spreading your legs. With one hand, larger than your whole pussy, he spreads your lips open, revealing your cunt.

Your feverish eyes look for Suguru, who approaches from the side, squirming in Satrou's lap anxiously.

Those dark eyes run over you, and for once, the look on the handsome, dark-haired man's face makes you shiver.

"That should be easy. You've been playing around it all this time, haven't you, Satoru?" Suguru's tone is half-accusatory, but Satoru only laughs.

It's easy for you to follow the line of his sight to between your legs, right at the crest of your clit, where Satoru's long, clever fingers stroke heavy circles around it.

"Just hold her like that" The assistant states, pulling out a piercing gun, "This will only take a moment."

"Look at her cute little clit!" Satoru snickers, "Gonna look so pretty with the piercing over it. Plus, if she ever gets lost, we'll find her right away!"

You can feel his body better now, pressed up as you are against him. His chest is solid, muscled, and he's wiry but lean behind you as he holds you easily in his grip, locking his legs inside yours.

Your ears tuck down as you squirm nervously, but Satoru's grip holds you tightly in place. The tip of your tail swishes as it winds against Satrou's leg as it presses into yours.

Suguru sits down next to you, one arm wrapping around your back and up over your chest. He presses his cheek to your poor quivering ear, nuzzling into it.

"Mmmh, don't be scared," He hums lowly, a noise like involuntarily relaxes you, "It'll be over quick."

His voice changes, deepening, hardening, and it's like it's coming from someone else entirely when he says - "Satoru. Keep her on the edge, make her cum when it goes in."

A whine escapes you. Goes in? You don't want this.

The assistant's gloved hands nears you as he gets on his knees, sharp eyes darting at your exposed sex, pulling the strange, unfamiliar tool right up to your most vulnerable place.

You whimper, and Suguru kisses your ear, folding it against your head, "Shhh, shhh. Don't be scared. You feel good now, doesn't it?" He says in a voice like honey.

Satoru's fingers dance over your folds. The strokes get shorter and shorter, the bud of your clit swelling up with pleasure and sensitivity alike. Gut churning with arousal, dripping from you, and a rapidly growing anxiety.

"I don't," You say, but your head is already spinning, "I don't, don't, wanna, I don't wanna, please..."

Leaning forward, Suguru tucks some hair behind his ear, showing you his own gauge piercings.

"I have one too, see?" He hums, "Yours will be much smaller, just a little one. It'll barely hurt."

You stare in confusion, tearing up as your own ears flick nervously. He has one too? But this is between your legs!

"No, no no no, please no," You plead with him, "I don't want it, please-"

"Shhhh." Suguru's hand darts up to your mouth, fingers pressing down on your tongue, "Yes you do. You'll love it so much once you have it, don't worry."

He feels silly for trying to explain. That won't calm you down now.

It makes sense that you can't understand. You're just a sweet little kitty, as much as you look like a human, and this is all just scary and uncomfortable for you.

You're a cat hybrid, a domesticated creature. Pets don't have to think about what's best for themselves; their owners do that for them.

He feels your rough tongue squirming against his fingers, drool pooling around them.

It makes him lick his own lips. His pants are tight. He wouldn't be surprised if Satoru hadn't already -

"Hnngh... yeah, kitty, you'll love it," Satoru pants, grinding up against your ass, making you whimper even more.

Suguru lays another heavy kiss on your ear, "Shh, shh. Hold still, kitty, you can do that, can't you?"

In the midst of all the pleasure, the quickening strokes that have your core clenching in anticipation. The fingers in your mouth, the iron grip on your hips, your legs, holding you in place, the bodies against you; Suguru's soft voice is your anchor in a sea of overstimulation.

But all you can do is warble, fangs teething against his skin, just barely not breaking through. You tremble at the effort, gnawing at his knuckles, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

"You're so sweet," He croons, "So good for me. There's a good kitty."

His fingertip draws down along your tongue, triggering your reflexes to suckle at it.

"There you go, nice and ready," Suguru coos, stroking your head, "Keep her close, Satoru."

With one large hand on your hip, holding you steady, Satoru starts rubbing your clit in sharper, fierce circles, coaxing it to stiffen and peek out further.

The assistant tugs back the delicate skin over your clit, all dripping and swollen. He gives it a quick wipe as he pulls the piercing gun in, making you panic even further.

Suguru pets and kisses as you, squeezing at the tension in your shoulder and your neck, while Satoru rubs just beneath your clit, in hard presses that send pleasure shooting through you.

"Feels good, right?" Satoru pants in your other ear, pinning your hips tightly against him and his throbbing erection, "I'm gonna make you feel even better real soon, kitty."

You sniffle helplessly in his lap, clit throbbing as his fingers work your sensitive nub. It sends you closer and closer to release, a tightening coil of anxiety and pleasure curling in your core.

"Hold still," Suguru murmurs softly, "Be good."

And you try; you try to be good and hold still for Suguru, who pets you and strokes you and says nice things to you. But it's so hard. Every fiber of your being wants to flinch away, and the constant stimulation against your clit is nearly blinding, burning hot arousal searing through you.

You're half-trembling with terror. Heart racing as you stare at the piercing gun sliding into place over your wet, exposed cunt.

"You're being so brave," Suguru whispers, "Such a brave little kitty. Just a little longer."

With a final click, the employee pierces you, sending a sharp jolt of pain through you. You shriek at the sensation, and would have jumped if it weren't for Satoru's iron grasp around you.

But Satoru keeps rubbing, your sensitive bud throbbing with both the effects of his touch, and the pain of the piercing now settled in place just over your clit.

It's all too much, the swell of pleasure building in your core until the pain only adds to the intensity. The dam bursts forth, and you choke on Suguru's fingers as you tense up, breathless, all discomfort melting away in the airy bliss of your climax.

"See," Satoru purrs, arms moving to wrap around your chest and hold you close, "Told you I'd make you feel good."

"That wasn't so bad, was it, kitty?" Suguru lays a kiss against your heated cheek, pulling his saliva-slick fingers out of your mouth so you can pant in the aftermath of your release.

"Look, Suguru~!" Satoru grins, cheeks red, as he taps at your new piercing, "It's so cute!"

Suguru straight up smacks his hand away, muttering some admonishment you don't catch; dimly, you register a wetness against your ass, at the front of his pants.

Panting, sweat-soaked, you slump forward as soon as Satoru's grip on you loosens - but it only tightens right up again, drawing a confused mewl from you as Satoru tugs you up to carry in his arms.

There's more kisses to your head, your ears, your burning hot cheeks. A buzz between your legs so sharp you can't even tell if it hurts or feels good, so you settle for whining whenever you're jostled.

"Be careful with her, Satoru."

"I am, I am - aren't you gonna do the paperwork? I think she needs a little aftercare."

You slump helplessly against Satoru's chest, ears flicking to pick up conversations you're too tired to pay attention to. Tail swaying underneath you, slung over one of Satoru's arms.

"Don't start monopolizing her already. We can do that together once we get home."

"I'm the one who wanted her in the first place!" Satoru whines.

Suguru rolls his eyes, "So you admit you went here without me and picked her out first?"

"But you like her, though," Satoru says, giggling, shifting you carefully in his arms to better support your head.

He looks down at you, curled up in his arms, with a satisfied smile, as the paperwork is signed and they're about to leave.

Aren't you just the cutest little kitty he ever did see?

He just knew Suguru would love you. He's playing it cool, but Satoru knows he can't wait to get you home to dote on you, set up rules and routines. He's probably salivating at the thought.

A pet just for them. Docile and sensitive and fuckable, a loving companion to come home to every day, a toy for them to use together or apart.

Satoru tucks your head against the crook of his neck.

He can't wait to break you in.

[tiramissyoucake]

viltrumite mark is always finding some kind of excuse to be with his wife

a long expedition to another planet? oof sorry but he just has too many things to do on viltrum sorry *goes home and cuddles his wife*

Nolan banging his head against the wall because how TF is his son this down bad for a human, I just know he's SEETHING.

Anyway, here's a blurb, this is later down the line when reader is compliant for her safety:

"Dear, get up." Mark whined as he nuzzled his face further into your lap, you sat at the vanity rearranging your items for the umpteenth time, there wasn't much to do anyway.

"I refuse." He groaned into your thighs, arms locked around your legs. "I can't take the quiet or chaos of another expedition. I want to stay here, with you."

A knock resounded from the door. "Your imperial majesty? We're ready for your departure." That was supposed to be his cue to move, but he was still, his breathing soft as he sat on his knees and cuddled into your warm thighs. "Mark."

"Tell them to go ask dad. Or anyone else. Please, anyone else." He looked up at you with so much exhaustion and adoration, like he wanted you to lecture his attendants for asking him to do his job. You let out a sigh bordering on a hum, running your hand through his hair. "You can't stay here forever."

"No," he laid his head back on you, pressing his cheek against you now as your hand settled in his hair. "But I can stay for as long as I possibly can."

He wasn't moving, not now, not in 5 minutes, not in a while. Your expression became frustrated, standing up and ignoring his little whine as you moved away to get to the door.

"Dear— please don't. I'm not feeling well- I don't think it's good for me to go now-" His train of invalid excuses paused as he heard the door clack open a crack.

"He's still recovering from the injuries from his last expedition, check with his father or anyone with a high ranking to join you. Emperor's orders." Your smooth order was mostly imitation from when you heard him speak, Mark's expression went from surprise to glee.

The Viltrumite at the door didn't question you, they knew better. The door clacked shut and as if on cue, Mark's defined hands wrapped around your body and hid his face in your neck. "Thank you, thank you. I cannot express my gratitude enough."

You mentally cursed yourself for being so fast to break against that sad puppy dog look.

[moonstruckme]

hello mae!!!

if inspiration strikes i'd love to request either a bruise in the shape of a boot print or blood seeping through clothes with spencer x bau!reader? thank you in advance, i hope your weekend was lovely! <3

Hi, thank you sweetness I hope your weekend was lovely too! <3

cw: injury? I'm not sure how to put it exactly but bau!reader gets moderately hurt while working basically. Oh also a squatter is taken into police custody for basically nothing but don't worry he's going to be questioned and released he's okay

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 579 words

You hold your breath as Spencer brushes his fingertips over the discoloration on your ribs. You hold your breath, but you don’t wince. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs anyway, eyes scanning you over. He wants to flick on his flashlight to see better, but he knows you’d run away before he could really look. Or hobble away, whatever you’re capable of right now. “I think he broke your rib.” 

You’re sitting on the curb a few meters away from your crime scene. It’s dark out, early morning, but an anonymous call brought the BAU out to check out a body that may be the latest victim in their case. 

There wasn’t supposed to be anybody around. The squatter caught you all by surprise and you him, Spencer and JJ chasing him down from the second floor. You’d been at the bottom of the stairs. Hadn’t even drawn your weapon before he kicked you down like a door to get you out of his path. 

“Just one rib?” you ask, wry. 

Spencer tilts his head, inspecting the bruising. “Maybe a few.” 

“Ah.” You lean your head back. You’re far enough into the country that you can see the stars, fading one by one as the sky lightens. “Perfect.” 

Spencer wants to reach out his hand more intimately, to touch you, to pull you closer, but he knows better than to make you look like you need taking care of. Not with your team so nearby, not with the reputation you’ve worked so hard to earn for yourself. Instead, he says in a soft voice, “Breathe.” 

You inhale. It looks like it hurts. 

Spencer’s chest aches faintly. He wonders whether it’s due to sympathy pains or something else. “This never should have happened.” 

Now you wince. “I know. I’m sorry, I should have been prepared.” 

“No.” He frowns. “You weren’t supposed to be prepared. JJ and I should have caught him before he got to you.” 

After the squatter knocked you down, Hotch caught him on the way out the door. They’re taking him in for questioning because he was found at a crime scene, but you all know he’s not your unsub. It makes you getting hurt feel even more pointless. 

“It’s not that bad,” you say.

“I can see his boot print on your chest.” 

“Can you really?” You look down. It causes you to bend slightly, the sort of minute movement you normally wouldn't notice, but now you suck in a breath. “Ow.” 

“Ow,” Spencer agrees compassionately. He covers your side with his hand, gentle but steadying. 

You shift, trying to find a comfortable position. “Could you make out a boot size?” you ask. 

“Probably. Why?” 

“Just curious.” 

“You know we already have him in custody. And he’s not our unsub.” 

“Yeah I know.” You shrug, wincing. You’re discovering all the things rib fractures make inconvenient. “It’d just be cool. Like, if I ever did get kicked by an unsub. In theory.” 

“You’d probably just catch them,” says Spencer. 

“Didn’t catch this one.” 

“Well, you were caught offguard. I’m sure it won’t happen a second time.” 

You laugh, then gasp, hand covering Spencer’s on your side. “Ow. Stop that.” 

“Sorry,” he says, genuinely contrite. “You’re going to have to go to the hospital.” 

“Yeah, I know.” It takes a moment to subdue your grimace, but you push out your bottom lip a little, meeting his eyes. “Hold my hand?” 

Spencer knows you’re likely teasing. He thinks he’ll do it anyway. 

[darkmatilda]

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer reid tries to focus on work, but keeps getting distracted. first by an unexpected phone call. then by the way you start flirting with another agent right across from his desk. but in the end, why does it even bother him?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spender reid x diva!chemist reader, reader kinda threatens to poison him, but its not a threat, just their silly way of showing mutual affection <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request. heyyy wonderful people, just letting you know that your request was the second-to-last in my inbox, so im opening them again! feel free to send me your ideas for the diva reader series, im already grateful in advance :>

Spencer usually gave out his phone number only to the people closest to him.

That way, he didn’t get unnecessary calls distracting him from more important matters, and he could be sure that if someone truly needed to reach him, they wouldn’t have any trouble doing so.

So, as he walked through the Quantico office, planning to track down Hotch—who supposedly wanted to see him—he was so absorbed in their case that he pressed his phone to his ear without thinking, without even looking at the screen, fully expecting to hear a familiar voice. Someone from the team, maybe.

Instead…

"Hey there, gorgeous."

A slightly raspy male voice. Spencer immediately estimated the caller to be around forty, judging by the subtle rustling sound—whoever it was, they were holding the phone just a little too close to their mouth.

Spencer froze in place.

His first thought—a wrong number.

His second—another one of Morgan’s pranks.

Just in case it was the latter, he didn’t hang up immediately. If his friend had planned something, he needed to find out what—so he could properly retaliate later.

"We met last night, don’t know if you remember," the man continued after a brief silence, caused entirely by Spencer’s confusion. "I hope you do. Because I sure do. Hard to forget a face like yours. You still there, sweetheart?"

In case anyone had any doubts—Spencer was not the intended recipient of this conversation.

He hadn’t gone out the night before, let alone given his number to a stranger. In fact, he had been in an entirely different state.

"Oh, sweetheart, don’t make me mad now. Or maybe you’re staying quiet because you’re curious how much I remember about you? Want me to remind you what you were wearing?"

Suddenly, it clicked.

After a brief second of pure disbelief, Spencer rolled his eyes upward, staring straight into the glare of the overhead lights. He blinked slowly.

His brain was exceptionally sharp that day. Even more so than usual.

Which meant it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together. A quick mental chain reaction, linking scattered fragments of information into a single, clear conclusion. 

The man on the other end of the line thought Spencer was the woman he had met the night before.

Spencer had a few female friends, but everything—literally everything—pointed to her.

First of all, he was nearly certain none of the others had gone out last night. They had all been working together, after all.

Second, and somehow more importantly—none of them, except her, would have found it remotely funny to give his number to a random guy.

As a joke? Was that what this was supposed to be?

“There’s no need for that,” Spencer cut in sharply, before the man on the other end could start poetically or less poetically describing her outfit.

This time, the silence came from the other side, laced with clear confusion.

Spencer couldn’t stop the faint crease forming on his forehead, nor the subtle tension drawing his shoulder blades together. The entire conversation left a bad taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t just because the guy was wasting his time.

It was his voice.

Self-important. Smug. Wet in a way that made simply listening to him an unpleasant experience. The kind of voice that could turn an otherwise neutral or even affectionate word sweetheart into something damn near degrading.

Years of experience profiling people meant Spencer had no trouble picturing exactly the kind of man he was dealing with. And the distaste coiling in his gut only sharpened.

“For future reference,” he said, barely pausing for breath, his grip tightening on the phone, “I’d suggest double-checking the numbers women give you when they’re trying to get rid of you. Because this isn’t your sweetheart. This is the Behavioral Analysis Unit, which, for your information, is part of the FBI. And your utterly pointless, time-wasting phone call could be considered obstruction of justice, which, surprise, can land you several years in prison.

A loud silence followed—one that left Spencer with a strange feeling. Satisfaction, maybe.

The man cleared his throat, and Spencer would bet good money that there were one or two silent curses mixed in there.

“This whore must’ve given me a fake number,” the guy muttered, no longer speaking directly into the phone.

The sudden shift from sweetheart to whore was so blatant that Spencer couldn’t hold back a sharp, mocking scoff.

“Well, I’m guessing you didn’t think of her as a whore when you were trying to hit on her last night—”

He barely finished the last word before the line went dead.

For a moment, he remained motionless, the phone still pressed to his ear, analyzing his own reaction. He was completely taken aback by it. Almost immediately, though, he forced himself into a nonchalant shrug, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation at an unwanted call.

Work. Right. Work. He had work to do, he had to meet with Hotch…

…but he had barely covered a few meters when his gaze caught a familiar stride and silhouette crossing one of the hallways. And before his mind could even consciously make the decision, he found himself heading in that direction—despite originally going somewhere entirely different.

“Did you have fun last night?” he asked as her hand pressed the elevator button.

She didn’t look at him at first, though she must have heard his footsteps. It wasn’t until he spoke that she slightly turned her head toward him.

“Not too bad,” she admitted casually. Her hands immediately moved to their usual position, arms crossed over her chest, and a small teasing smile danced on her lips.“How about your morning? Any interesting phone calls?”

He opened and closed his mouth, not expecting to be so transparent. He also felt a bit confused by her enigmatic, calm reaction. The elevator stopped, and she confidently stepped inside first.

Spencer followed her.

“I don’t quite get it,” he admitted, furrowing his brows. “Was that supposed to be a joke at my expense, or that guy’s?”

They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder in the small elevator space. He looked at her, and she stared ahead. She slowly shrugged.

“Maybe both,” she replied, inspecting her nails. Spencer clenched his lips, holding back from saying that she could at least spare him the ignorant, irritating attitude for once. “Or maybe I just wanted to get rid of the pushy guy by giving him the first random number I could think of” She paused, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “And maybe I was hoping you'd scare the shit out of him with some long lecture, preferably about the law. Was I right?”

She shifted her gaze fully to him, her piercing eyes locking onto him with such intensity that denial was out of the question. He didn’t even need to answer—the flicker of expression that crossed his face gave him away instantly.

Her short laugh filled the elevator.

He always felt a little humiliated, standing there in silence while she laughed at his expense. So he spoke first, blurting out the first thing that came to mind—the thing that had been sitting there for a while now.

“Does that happen a lot? Guys being pushy?”

She gave him a closer look, maybe because of the unintended seriousness in his voice. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. Clearing his throat, he tried to appear more indifferent.

“Well, yes,” she said simply. Stating an obvious fact, a reality she was used to. “Every time. But getting rid of them isn’t hard. A well-placed conversation, and they run off just as fast as they showed up.” She scoffed. “But sometimes I’d rather just, you know, actually enjoy my evening instead of dealing with them. And that’s when the fake number trick comes in.”

Spencer caught himself listening with genuine interest. He was well aware of the effect she had on people—how she drew eyes just by existing, how so many of those looks were filled with nothing but desire. He also had the impression that, for the most part, she regarded them with mild disdain—or maybe even enjoyed being the center of attention.

He hadn’t considered that sometimes she’d had enough of them—so much so that she had an entire list of strategies to get rid of them just as quickly as she attracted them.

He realized he had fallen silent, lost in thought. The elevator stopped at her floor—he hadn’t planned on getting in with her in the first place, which meant he was now stuck pretending he was going somewhere else.

She took a step toward the open doors before his voice stopped her.

“Wait, you’re not even going to say thank you?” he asked. “I did waste some time on that guy. That was a solid lecture.”

She stood in front of the open doors, facing him.

“I have a suspicion,” she began, one brow arching as a teasing smirk tugged at her lips, “that you enjoyed it way too much to actually need my thanks.”

She gave him a small wave—just her fingers, really—before the elevator doors slid shut, cutting them off from each other. Spencer hated to admit—even to himself—that she had a point. Okay, a lot of a point, he realized as he recalled that fleeting rush of satisfaction when the call abruptly ended, punctuated by a hint of panic on the other end.

And maybe that was what ultimately decided it—because from that moment on, on the rare occasions he received similar calls, he always had a long, meticulously crafted, stern lecture at the ready. One that, just before the inevitable abrupt hang-up, sent the smallest, most satisfying shiver down his spine.

*

"You have three hours."

"I can handle it in two."

 "Do it in one."

Spencer remembered these words, muttering a soft shit under his breath. The massive stack of papers that not only needed to be read but also carefully analyzed seemed to be getting no smaller. The hour on the clock, however, kept ticking forward.

"Hm? What's up? Do you have something?"

He slowly shifted his unwilling gaze to the man he was trapped in the room with. Well, not literally trapped, but that’s how it felt. Dean Bradley, an agent who’d been working on the case they’d just been assigned to for years, knew it inside out—naturally, he had been assigned to cooperate with them. His current role, however, seemed to involve nothing more than pretending to write something on the whiteboard and occasionally throwing out a theory that supposedly brought them closer to the solution but, in reality, only pushed them further away. Bradley was incredibly distracting to Spencer.

"No... I just... nothing." Spencer replied rubbing his throbbing temple. That case had been exceptionally exhausting, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and the coffee he had just drunk hadn’t helped at all. "Nothing. Just...can you not say anything to me for a while?"

Bradley raised an eyebrow at him but Reid didn’t really care. Simply buried his nose in the papers again, reading, or rather, devouring the pages with his eyes. There hadn’t been the best atmosphere between them ever since Spencer had ignored his outstretched hand for a greeting. Well, that was because he had seen Bradley leaving the bathroom earlier, and even if he had washed his hands, he had immediately touched the door handle that everyone in the building touched, half of whom hadn’t washed their hands. Honestly, Spencer would have preferred to kiss him as a greeting. It would have been safer.

For a moment, Bradley was actually quiet. He didn’t stay that way for too long, though—just long enough.

"So, where are those lab results? Weren’t they supposed to be here by now?"

"They were. So, I’m guessing they’ll be here any minute," Spencer replied shortly.

"It’s taking a while. Maybe I should just go grab them myself?"

Yeah, please do, Spencer nearly begged. He even opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the door swung open and a woman stepped in, moving with quick, confident steps, but this time with a bit of frustration in her stride.

Completely ignoring the man's gaze landing on her, she stepped up to his desk and dropped the promised lab results onto it with a sharp motion.

"Could you tell me," she began, one hand still resting on the papers, preventing him from immediately going through them. Because she was standing while he was sitting, her figure loomed over him, forcing him to tilt his head slightly to meet her eyes. Naturally, he did, his gaze moving from her hand with neatly manicured fingers to her beautiful face, her bottom lip slightly protruding as she prepared to speak. "When exactly did I become your secretary? Because I don't remember that moment."

Spencer didn't even blink before responding, so used to thir verbal sparring and the fast pace she always set, just like her steps.

"Well, maybe since you started handing out my number left and right," he shot back instantly. Without breaking his gaze, he grabbed the empty cup sitting within arm's reach. "And since you consider yourself my secretary, would you be so kind as to make me a coffee?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Agent Bradley watching their exchange with fascination, focused on only one side of the conversation. No need to specify which side. Meanwhile, the woman tilted her head slightly to the side, a certain gleam lighting up her eyes.

"Sure," she replied, to his surprise. There was something devious in her tone. Suddenly, Spencer didn't want the coffee anymore. "But I’m not sure I’d be so kind as to make sure those ten teaspoons of sugar you put in your coffee are actually sugar, and not, say, arsenic..."

Instinctively, he pulled the cup closer to himself.

"Not ten," he mumbled.

"Oh, my eternal apologies, I exaggerated a bit. Five?"

"Well, now you're getting closer..."

Their conversation, or rather their verbal sparring, was interrupted by a cough.

“Reid,” Bradley said his last name much friendlier than ever before, with a mischievous grin on his face. “When you said the chemist would bring us the lab results, I imagined, I don’t know, Einstein with his hair sticking out in all directions. Did you really lock such a treasure in the lab?” he chuckled. “So it wouldn't distract y’all?”

Spencer looked up at the woman in front of him again, who had only just noticed the third person in the room. Her hand slowly slid off the papers she’d been resting on, though it stayed on the desk. She half turned her body toward the new speaker, casually sitting on the desk. There was something hypnotic in the fluid, clock-like motion as she crossed one knee over the other. For a moment, he just watched, realizing after a while that he wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe I locked myself in there,” she replied. Her tone calm, too calm, as it always was before she’d throw words, like precisely aimed darts, at the other person. “So I wouldn’t have to listen to the same tired lines from agents with the same tired faces, thinking they’re being creative.”

For a moment, he completely forgot about the pile of papers waiting to be analyzed. He watched what was unfolding in front of him, a small smile involuntarily starting to form on his lips. However, it faded the moment he noticed Bradley’s expression. He had expected him to be shut down. Speechless, maybe. Hurt in that characteristic, pathetic way typical of fragile male pride. Instead, Bradley was grinning like an idiot.

“Wow, that’s a bit harsh,” Bradley commented lightly, not in the slightest bit put off by her words. In fact, the fascination on his face only grew.

Spencer couldn’t help but glance at the profile of the woman sitting motionless on the desk. Her gaze was now also more focused, following the person across from her. Her eyes seemed even more concentrated, intrigued, and entertained than during their conversation. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her, physically making himself look back at the papers. Work, right, work. He had to focus on it, despite how distracted he was by their presence. It was, after all, natural. They were speaking rather loudly, right in front of him. He began reading the text on the page, concentrating only on it.

“You must feel like some princess locked in a tower,”

His ears, against his better judgment, picked up Bradley’s next words. He shook his head. Text. A quick glance at the woman’s face. Text.

“You know, that German fairy tale from the 18th century…”

Spencer, from his own experience, knew that info dumping wasn’t the most effective way to flirt with a woman. Especially when it wasn’t even accurate.

“17th century,” he corrected, unable to stop himself. Both their gazes landed on him, but he didn’t respond to either, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers. He was reading them, but couldn’t grasp their meaning. He started analyzing the same paragraph again, continuing, “Assuming we’re talking about the German version of that fairy tale recorded by The Brothers Grimm. Because, actually, this was developed from the French literary fairy tale Persinette by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force, which itself is an alternative version of the Italian fairy tale Petrosinella by Giambattista Basile.”

A long silence fell. The woman shifted slightly in her seat, pretending to be focused on her work, and he tried not to look at her face. Was there pity or amusement on it? Why did it matter to him so much to figure that out? What mattered was only one thing: they were bothering him. The two of them. With the noise they were generating, to be precise.

The sound that filled the room was probably just a long breath from Bradley.

“Wow,” he repeated, thrown off. “Thanks for the clarification, Agent Reid.”

“It’s Doctor Reid.”

He couldn’t stop himself and looked at her. She closed her eyes when a smile spread across her lips. She didn’t try to hide it or hold it back. It was simply there. Bradley noticed it too, his arms, which had been casually resting on his hips, sliding down along his body.

"Didn't you have some urgent documents to analyze?" he began, trying not to sound confrontational, but he failed. He sounded confrontational. "The ones you kept reminding me about every five minutes since we got here?"

Reid didn't have a sharp retort ready for that one; in fact, Bradley had hit the nail on the head. He did have a lot of urgent documents to go through, but for reasons unknown to him, he'd decided to engage in this pointless conversation instead. His silence only seemed to fuel the satisfaction on Bradley's face, which was broken only by the movement of the woman. Specifically, her rising from the desk.

"You could've just said we’re interrupting," she remarked, stretching one leg after the other, every movement fluid. "Especially if it's something important. Is it?"

"Well, actually, yes..."

"In that case, I suppose we're in the way. Shall we go, Agent Bradley?"

She must have read his last name off the badge pinned to her chest. Both Spencer and Bradley looked at her, but only one of them slowly cracked a smile. The other let out a sigh, pretending to feel relief, though deep down, he genuinely did—finally, he could focus on what he had wanted to from the start.

They both made their way toward the door. Unused to her quick pace, and still a bit surprised by the attention she had given him, the agent trailed after her like a lost puppy. As they crossed the threshold, she turned back to him over her shoulder, looking like a kid bragging about winning a bike race.

Spencer merely shook his head with pity, and when they both disappeared in the same direction, he scoffed.

He returned to his work.

After a while, he found himself thinking that perhaps he preferred their conversation to be within earshot, rather than out of it.

[doitbuckley]

36, 37, or 41 for the setting prompts ☺️

for the setting prompt 036, a long, winding road (8x12 coda)

“Someone peed.”

There’s silence for one unbearable second, and then Buck’s voice crackles over the line, muffled and thready but there. Always there. Thank God, Eddie thinks. “Huh?”

Buck is usually the one in charge of saying something off-the-cuff when he picks up the phone. And then Eddie will say Hi, Buck, and Buck will say Hi, Eddie and get back to whatever it is he needed to say, unperturbed. “Someone peed in my backseat,” Eddie sighs, rolling his window back up so he can hear better. They have to be down, usually, when he’s by himself. The whipping of the wind manages to loosen some sort of invisible noose cuffed around his neck, whatever’s been making him feel suffocated and hollowed out. Eddie’s alright with being trapped for now, stuck inside of the familiar four walls of Buck’s voice. “My last rider today. He was really drunk.”

“Oh,” Buck coughs out, like he’s holding back a laugh maybe for Eddie’s sake, but it doesn’t really work. Something similar to relief skitters down Eddie’s spine, settling down near his tailbone. “That’s, uh, geez.” He clears his throat, swallowing down the rest of his laugh. Eddie can imagine the twist of his mouth, a peek of pearly white coming out to bite down on his bottom lip. “How even–did he just like, whip it out or something–”

“You don’t wanna know the specifics,” Eddie interrupts before Buck can let his imagination run wild, a shiver running through him at the not distant enough memory. “I had to perform black magic to get the fuckin’ smell out.”

Eddie turns right, the road long and winding before him, seemingly endless. If he had to choose one thing to miss about El Paso, maybe it’d be the sunsets. They were always so orange, almost angry in their vibrancy, setting alight all the buildings and the roads and the yuccas. “Sorry,” Buck says, and he has the audacity to sound genuine. “If I were your passenger, I’d at least have the decency to not do it on your seats.” 

“Ah,” Eddie says, cranking up the shitty AC that doesn’t blow nearly hard enough, undoing the top button of his shirt. The driver’s seat will probably don a permanent sweat stain in the shape of his body soon. “‘Preciate it, bud.”

There’s the scrape of a chair against wood on the other end, an exasperated groan. 

“Old man knees,” Eddie says.

“Fuck off,” Buck huffs, but there’s no trace of heat behind it. “One to talk, I can hear your bones when you sit down.” There’s some shuffling, a puff of breath. “I could,” Buck corrects himself softly, almost like Eddie’s not supposed to hear it.

Eddie swallows, dryness creeping up his throat in one fell swoop. The road keeps winding, the sky darkens to something more burnt and final, contrails making pretty patterns in it. “Hey,” Eddie speaks up after a beat. “Chris hugged me today.”

“That–” There’s a pause, and then the shuffling stops. “Shit, Eddie, that’s great.”

He sounds so pleased about it that Eddie can’t help but smile to himself, rubbing over an aching spot in his chest, tender like a damp spot of soil.

“Mhm. Thanks for, uh, getting me out of my head.”

“No biggie,” Buck says, and Eddie can picture the boyish up-down flop of his shoulders as he shrugs, his no big deal, just doing what I do shrug. He’s probably ducking his head too, though, blinking and looking off to the side like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Eddie shakes his head even though Buck can’t see him. “Yes biggie. I know it’s not all fixed, but. You really helped a lot, Buck.”

Silence, then clinking. He must’ve sat down for coffee, probably his second of the day. It’s early enough in LA for it. Something constricts inside of Eddie’s chest then, like a big old iron fist clenching at the cage of his ribs. “Okay,” Buck acquiesces, so gentle Eddie barely hears it. “What are you doing? Anymore rides for today?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I’m driving over to Red Sands.”

“Red Sands?”

“I guess it doesn’t technically exist, it’s not regulated. It’s sort of what people call that giant desert area in the East—you know Hueco Tanks?”

“Of course.”

Yeah, Buck probably knows about every state park in existence. it just seems like something he’d be into. “Yeah, it’s not too far from there.”

The East side off of Montana Ave, Eddie remembers. He and Shannon used to drive out around Hueco Tanks in his beat up truck to get away from the city, park it, watch the sky. Maybe fuck on the truck bed under a blanket if it was dark enough, but that was neither here nor there. He’d look up and he wouldn’t feel so trapped for once, those precious minutes of stillness and quiet, the sky endless and all-encompassing. He didn’t know shit about constellations, so he’d make stuff up just so Shannon would laugh and bury her cold nose into his neck. 

“Why’re you going there?”

“See the stars,” Eddie says. The sun continues to retreat farther, hiding itself away, and everything blazes red.

“Oh,” Buck says kind of wistfully. “Feeling sentimental?”

“Something like that.”

Eddie used to hate the sand. The desert, it just stretched on for miles and miles, that boring, ugly sand. He doesn’t really mind it now.

“Looks just the same,” Eddie says as he slows down on the road. Red-orange sand, dunes, small hills, sagebrush and yucca. There’s a couple of people zipping over the sand. “White guys love to come out here and ride their ATVs.”

Buck snorts. “I bet they do.”

Eddie wishes, with a sudden blinding ferocity, that Buck were there with him. He could picture it, even, Buck riding one of those eyesores over the blazing red sand dunes, the mostly reformed adrenaline junkie that he is. 

“Wait,” Buck says suddenly. Eddie can hear him set down his mug. “Let me tell you what to look out for in the sky.”

That aching feeling intensifies tenfold, unrelenting. No matter how hard Eddie rubs at his chest, he can't work out the knot.

“Hm. Oh! You should be able to see Jupiter with your naked eye tonight. Mars, too.”

“Got it,” Eddie says, digging his knuckles into his ribcage. It hurts something fierce, but he keeps nudging. “I definitely know what those look like.”

“You can’t miss ‘em,” Buck insists. “You’ll know them when you see them. Trust me.”

Well, Eddie has never had any reason not to. “Sure,” Eddie says. “Yeah, just call me Galileo.”

Buck huffs and then laughs in that way he does that calls Eddie lame without actually saying it. “Man,” Buck says suddenly, forcefully, like it’s bursting out of him. “I really love you.”

Eddie swallows, the ache spreading down to his stomach, stale water trickling from a leaky ceiling. “Hm?” he asks, even though he heard Buck loud and clear.

“I didn’t.” There’s silence. “Mean to, uh.”

Eddie blinks at his steering wheel. “So you don’t love me?”

“No! Uh, yes? Uh, no, I just meant. That.” Eddie wishes he could see whatever face Buck is undoubtedly pulling right now. “That felt weird.”

Eddie doesn’t want to think about why he doesn’t like that. “Why?”

“Maybe, I-I don’t know, because. We don’t really. Say it, I don’t know.”

“Friends love each other,” Eddie says, and it doesn’t feel quite right.

There’s more silence. Eddie feels wrong-footed all of a sudden, cold sweat on his brow. Man, I really love you. Of course Buck loves him, that’s—of course he does. Eddie already knew that. Of course. But it hits him then, like a horse kick to the chest, how they don’t really say it. They just do it.

Man, I really love you, it knocks him right upside the head.

“Yeah,” Buck says after what feels like an eternity times two. He sounds muffled and far away again, and Eddie wants to tell him to speak directly into the microphone, maybe get him to say it again with even more certainty and veracity, but that’d be asking too much. “Yeah, they do.”

The desert stretches on for miles. The wind whips. The ATVs sparkle under the last dying rays of sun. Man, I really love you.

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows, keeps rubbing at his chest that must be caving in. “I love you too,” Eddie says, and it feels too raw. “For the record.” 

Buck laughs, more of an exhale of air than anything else. “Yeah. Yeah, good to know.”

Eddie is able to see Jupiter that night. Mars, too.

[reidrum]

purple lace bra

A/N: wish y'all could see the explosion that happened when i was listening to purple lace bra for the thousandth time and then saw that tattoo pic on twt. anyways. based on this post. p.s. do we like the new fic color layout pls say yes

summary: in which spencer knows better than to let you go home with a loser, which has nothing to do with his recent discovery of your tattoo. obviously.

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), enemies to lovers, brat tamer!spencer heheh

wc: 3.5k

The condensation dripping down his glass does nothing to quell the white hot emotion rising within Spencer. The death grip he has on it is about a few minutes away from bursting and shattering everywhere if he doesn’t find a way to calm himself down. That’s not in the cards for him however, not for as long as he keeps watching you across the bar talking to Ryan from cyber crimes.

He’s not supposed to feel this way about you. He’s not supposed to feel any way about you. The majority of your time together as coworkers is spent at each other’s necks with no room for logic, only malice.

But he sits at a table in O’Keefes, awkwardly hanging off the edge of the seat listening to Derek and Emily talk about god knows what.

You look very interested in your conversation from what Spencer can tell, your body language certainly shows it. You’re leaning in just a bit too close for comfort into Ryan, laughing loudly—and fakely—at Ryan’s dumb jokes. You don’t move away when Ryan lays a hand on your waist, tilting your head up so it’s a few inches from his.

“Reid,” Derek nudges him, “You’re going to break the glass, man.”

Spencer looks down at his white knuckled grip and instantly loosens up, intently watching the blood return to his hand. Derek’s smug smile doesn’t falter, “Got something on your mind, pretty boy?”

Emily follows his gaze across the bar to where you stand with Ryan and chuckles, “Or someone?”

He immediately looks back at the table, “No. Nothing.”

“Very convincing, but it might be less effort to just you know. Get up and go talk to her.” Emily teases.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” she winks at him, “but in case a small part of you does know what I’m talking about, I’d say you have about five minutes before she goes home with him.”

He attempts to shrug nonchalantly. “I don’t care.”

Derek and Emily share a knowing look and return to their previous conversation, deciding to let the boy genius stew in his stubbornness. Spencer slowly brings his gaze back to you, except he doesn’t find you uncomfortablely close to Ryan anymore. No, where he finds you is arguably much worse for him.

You’d decided your drink needed a refresher he assumes—why Ryan couldn’t be bothered to get you another drink he’ll never understand—but Spencer lets his eyes trail the expanse of the bar top to find you waiting to flag the bartender down. You’re leaned against the counter, bent slightly at the waist and hips jutting outwards. A compromising but seemingly normal position, however Spencer’s eyes catch something from the raise of your top exposing your lower back. His throat all but nearly dries once he registers what it is.

Raised ink on the swell of your lower back, a tattoo.

Lucky you.

It takes all the restraint in him to not get up abruptly and walk over to you, that is not what he wants. That is not how he’s thinking about you—he doesn’t think about you like that. He’ll settle in his own lie and deny that for all his days, but his resolve grows smaller each second he finds Ryan eyeing the same discovery he’s made.

Ryan isn’t even your type, not that he knows or even cares what your type is, he knows it at least isn’t that man. You like to be challenged, to be tested. Spencer doesn’t even need to be within earshot to know that Ryan is playing the perfect ‘yes man’ listener to you in hopes you’ll go home with him.

Spencer is fairly confident you won’t, but your body language hasn’t changed and you lean in much closer to him after your refill.

The breaking point is when he watches Ryan place his hand on your lower back—over Spencer’s treasured discovery—as he begins to guide you towards the exit.

That’s all it took for him.

Spencer doesn’t think when he bolts out of his chair and speeds over to you, barely registering the “Atta boy.” from Derek as he gets farther from their table towards you.

Your eyes widen as Spencer all but crashes into you, “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” he tries to regain his balance, “Fine yeah, um. Sorry, but we just got called in.”

“For a case?—” you question.

“I thought you guys were off. We were just about to head out.” Ryan interjects. Ugh.

“Contrary to popular belief, serial killers actually don’t abide by a schedule Ryan. So if you don’t mind, we’ll just be heading out on our own.” 

“But—“

You eye Spencer for a second, trying to figure out the angle he’s playing. Emily and Derek haven’t moved from their seats yet the empty glasses around them grow by the minute. Not to mention you would have gotten a text from Hotch or JJ if there was a case, and your phone hasn’t so much as buzzed in the last hour. 

But then you really look at Spencer, and you take note of his clenched fists, the slight heavy breathing. The vein on his neck popping out with pulsations. He’s mad, you conclude. About what, you’re not too sure. 

You pull out your phone and fake react to the blank screen, “Oh gosh, thanks for telling me I almost didn’t see this. Maybe next time, Ryan?”

Spencer smirks to himself as Ryan grumbles something incoherently and maybe offensive to the BAU before sulking away while you let out a soft giggle.

“So…I take it there is no case.”

At this point Spencer realizes the consequences of his rash actions, and has no idea how to explain to you why he warded this man off of you like he was an omen of evil.

He clears his throat, “Um, no. No case, sorry you just looked like you needed help.”

You cross your arms, “I find it hard to believe you wanted to help me with something.”

Spencer narrows his eyes, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you never want anything good for me unless there’s something in it for you.”

Caught red handed. “There’s nothing in it for me, I think you’re overreacting.”

“And I think you’re displacing your emotions,” you step closer, your voice dropping an octave, “I could feel you staring at me, you know. When I was at the bar.”

He gulps, “I—I wasn’t…”

You step closer so you’re nearly chest to chest, “So I’m going to ask you again. Tell me what it is you want.”

You’re so close to him he can still smell the spritzer on your lips, the maraschino cherry you ate with it coloring them an inviting hue that Spencer isn’t sure he can hold off not tasting for any longer. 

For the second time tonight, his actions move faster than his brain as you’re suddenly being dragged through the crowd and towards the back of the bar. You think you’re headed for the storage closet but he makes a bee line for the bathroom next to it at the w minute, which is thankfully unlocked.

He tugs you inside and shuts the door behind you before pressing you against the back of it, “I know what you’re doing.”

Your confused face morphs into one of knowing, “And what am I doing, Spencer?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Play dumb? I know you don’t think so highly of me,” he presses your hips against the door harder in anger, “If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”

“There isn’t anything from you that I could possibly want.”

Oh, he wants you to push his buttons. “Yeah? That’s why you dragged me into the bathroom after lying to Ryan so I wouldn’t go home with him?”

“You wouldn’t have liked it, I know you.”

You grin wickedly, “Oh, you know me? Should I…thank you? For you know, saving me from a treacherous night with Ryan?”

“I don’t care what you do—“

Your hands drag down to the buckle of his belt, the light pressure feeling a million times heavier as Spencer’s breath hitches at the contact. 

“You don’t?” you pout, ghosting over the outline of his bulge.

His body stills entirely as you continue to undo the belt loop, agonizingly sliding it out and running your hands down the sides of his hips. Spencer isn’t sure what to do. He doesn’t think about you like this, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what it would be like to have you writhing beneath him, hearing you scream his name in ecstasy. The different ways he would fuck the attitude out of you whenever you defied him, how he would shut your little mouth up whenever it ran just a little too much.

Spencer’s eyes darken as realizes the opportunity in front of him, soon to be below him. He gulps, “Y—You know what I want.”

You coo, tracing your lips up hips neck to the crest of his ear, “Oh but Spencer, I thought I was dumb. You might have to spell it out for little ole me.”

Christ help him. “On your knees.”

You giggle and sink to your knees, running your hands up his sides to his belt buckle and pants button to undo them. You peel the fabric of his pants back to expose his boxers, nearly salivating at the wet patch forming in the middle. You slip a hand inside and gently palm him through the fabric, he inhales sharply and grasps the sink counter in front of him for balance.

You finally put him out of his misery and take him out of his boxers, your pout returning again seeing how angry and red his tip is. “Spencer, this looks painful. Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn I could’ve helped you out earlier.”

“If you weren’t always fucking talking nonsense at work, maybe I would’ve.”

“Now,” you tsk, wrapping your fingers around him and gently giving him a single stroke, “that’s no way to talk to someone about to give you head.”

He all but whimpers, “F—Fuck, please can you just…”

“Ask me nicely.” you look up at him doe eyed, lazily stroking him.

You’re going to be the death of him, and it’s starting to look like the most promising way to go out.

“Will you please—shit—please can you just, suck me off?”

You don’t respond but simply lean in close to his base to lick a stripe to the top, swirling your tongue around his tip before you hollow your cheeks out and lower your mouth on him.

“Oh fuck,” he whines, his hand moving to grab your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you take him whole. He can feel himself hit the back of your throat as you gag in response, another guttural moan leaving him.

You continue to bob your head up and down on his length as you feel his hand on your head subconsciously begin to guide your movements on his own.

“Why are you so good at this,” he moans, “It’s because you never shut up, huh? All you do is run your mouth and there’s no one to keep you in check.”

You hum pathetically around him, sending vibrations through his body. He almost misses the hand you’ve snaked between your legs to touch yourself, “Look at you, just couldn’t help yourself? If i’d known this was all it would take to keep you quiet I would’ve had you on your knees for me ages ago.”

He can feel your throat distend in response to his crude words, and like a man depraved he instinctively bucks his hips into your mouth. In any other instance he would feel bad, he should feel bad. But he finds that feeling hard to come by as your eyes water to the tear line and you just look so pretty stuffed in the mouth full of him. Spencer has never heard you be so quiet whilst in the same room as him, and he’s becoming very fond of the new method he just discovered to keep you subdued.

Spencer’s thrusts into your mouth become erratic and sloppy, and you can tell he’s getting close. In no world did you think sucking Spencer Reid off would be this enjoyable, and yet you’re already mourning the moment he pulls out of your mouth. You pull back slightly to be able to speak, “Want you to cum in my mouth, please.”

That’s all Spencer needed to thrust a final time into your mouth and spill himself all down your throat. He’s in awe as he watches you take it whole, making sure you don’t miss a single drop and milk out every last bit from him. You pull him out with a grand sigh, your head leaning back about to hit the bottom edge of the sink counter before Spencer releases the makeshift ponytail he has on you to use his hand to pad the impact.

“You okay?” he pants.

You nod, “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Come here.”

He helps you up from the floor and doesn’t give you time to adjust before he pounces on you, attacking your lips as he holds your body as impossibly close to him as he can. “Didn’t take you for someone who swallows.” he mutters in between kisses.

“Clearly there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Spencer chuckles, his hands beginning to wander again, “I’ll say.”

His fingers brush over the letters on your lower back, you let out a sharp gasp and pull back as he continues to press kisses down your neck, “How did you know—“

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you had a tattoo here. All this time I’m forced to spend with you, you think I’d notice at some point.” he mumbles.

“Well I don’t exactly show it off.”

“Shame, I think I’d be willing to hear you out a lot more if you did.”

“That so?” you tease, “Is that why you were staring daggers at me at the bar?”

“No, I was wondering why you would get a tattoo there of all places,” he whispers, “then I realized.”

“Why?”

“You want to be bent over and fucked like a whore, don’t you?”

You’re near speechless, “I—I…that’s not—“

He turns your body around with a force and bends you over the sink counter, a smirk forming as it reminds him of how you were positioned at the bar. His hands shrug down your jeans and panties, “Don’t ask for things you can’t handle, princess.”

You look at him through the mirror, “I can handle it.”

Spencer puts his hips out to meet the back of yours, his length imprinting between your ass, “I’m sure you can, baby.” He pushes the edge of your top further up to expose the ink on your lower back, thumbing the letters once again as they glare back at him tauntingly.

Lucky you.

He chuckles to himself before angling at your entrance, “Lucky me.”

The feel of him filling you up causes you both to moan in tandem, you hadn’t expected Spencer to be reaching places you didn’t even know existed.

Your forearms brace you against the sink counter as you try to hold yourself up, with every inch he enters you rendering you more and more defenseless. 

Spencer lets out a shaky whimper once he bottoms out, “Fu—uck, you’re so tight.”

“Sorry, it’s um. It’s been a minute.” you breathe out.

“That’s okay, baby. Tell me when you’re ready.”

You squeeze around him subconsciously at his tenderness as he lets out a strangled groan. “I—I’m okay, you can move.”

He meets your eyes in the mirror, “You sure?”

“Please move. Now.” you plead.

Spencer drags his hips back slowly before reentering you at the same pace, soft moans spilling out of you the entire way. Once he feels the resistance inside you fall he picks up his pace and starts thrusting into you like a man determined.

Your hips begin to meet his thrusts back on his hips as he continues to hit deep within you, “Spence…” you babble, “feels so good.”

“Yeah? You think Ryan could make you feel like this?”

You moan languishly, unable to form words as his pace picks up even faster.

He jams his hips into you and stops, “I asked you a question.”

“Fuck, please don’t stop.” you whine.

“Then tell me, could Ryan make you feel like this?” he slowly begins to move his hips again.

“N—No, no he can’t.”

His thrusts become harder and faster, “Who’s making you feel like this, baby?”

“You! You Spencer please, I’m going to cum I—“

He ruts into you even faster, his hand threading around to touch your clit, “Say it again.”

“Only you can make me feel this good, Spence, no one else.” you murmur, “Please.”

Spencer would say that was satisfactory. “Cum.���

Your orgasm hits you like a wave crashing down, hard and moving everywhere into every crevice it can find. Your nerve endings are on fire as he continues to fuck you through your high, endless moans and babbles pouring out of you.

Spencer reaches his high not long after, the incessant clenching around him being his breaking point. He groans loudly as he spills himself into you for the second time this night, making sure he’s fucked every last drop inside of you. His pace finally falters and slows down, gently pulling himself out of you. He grabs tissues from the dispenser nearby and delicately cleans you up.

“Shit, that was—” you say as you try to catch your breath.

“Yeah. That was.” he helps you up from the sink counter, kneeling down to help you put your pants and panties back on securely. He stands up to his full height and holds your face square in his hands, holding you to press a firm kiss against your lips that quickly turns into kisses all over your face.

You giggle, “What, you’re all nice to me now because I let you hit?”

He groans again, “Don’t say it like that, it makes me sound like an ass.”

“You kind of were. An ass, that is.” you joke.

“For a reason that you probably are aware of now.” he jests back.

You pretend to look deep in thought, “I don’t know, I think I might need more convincing.”

“That can be arranged,” he leans in to kiss you soundly again when the sound of both your phones ringing startles you. He pulls his phone out, “Oh my god, we actually have a case.”

“You jinxed it!” you laugh, “Guess we really have to go now.”

Now Spencer looks deep in thought as he turns his phone on do not disturb before taking your phone and doing the same thing, sliding them to the end of the sink counter, “Well, I don’t think they’ll miss us for another ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? Ambitious.”

“What can I say, I love a challenge.”

[majornerdalert]

Dare I say there’s something akin to slavery in it.

The majority of the outies don’t see their innies as actual people (Helena even said she was a person and helly wasn’t) and see them as just there to do a job. They have no freedom, they’re trapped in their work, shackled to one place and not supposed to form relationships or individual thoughts. It’s obviously not as intense but it does remind me of slavery a little.

Which also shows how strong lumons brainwashing is since milchick doesn’t see much of a problem with the situation. He knows lumon is wrong in some ways, like them drawing him as kier and trying to discuss with Natalie why that’s uncomfortable and doesn’t feel right. But he still sees the innies as just his employees or part of a machine, in a mostly just situation just like any non severed job.

Whereas maybe, if he stopped to think long enough, he might empathise, he might think of his ancestors and how they were controlled and used purely for work, how they didn’t get to be free or think independently. How often they weren’t supposed to form relationships and doing so could have consequence, a slave may be sold or killed if they formed too many strong bonds as it may distract from work or cause uprising just like Irving, helly and Dylan were temporarily replaced in mdr or how Irving and burt were both cut from lumon permanently. He may realise that’s actually the situation the severed imployees are in is bizarre and fucked up im so many ways. There way not be race in it (although as we’ve seen there’s clearly some racism going on within lumon) but it’s still a separation, a power tier and an almost slave like situation.

I like that there’s hints that milchick may be starting to see the problems more (him talking to Natalie, “devour feculance”, him making a quip at the kier animatronic about how the height has been exaggerated in retaliation to the animatronic insulting him” and I hope season three gives us more milchick development and possibly rebelling

and obviously you find yourself thinking oh i do wish i could get severed to do this one thing. would you actually maybe not. but you do wish you didn't have to undergo medical procedures you do wish you didn't have to do the things that give you anxiety you do wish you didn't have to do tedious tasks that barely even require you to be present for them. it's tempting. that's why the premise works. but the premise is also that somebody has to do it. somebody has to go to the dentist and somebody has to get on that plane and somebody has to write those thank you notes. just like somebody has to clean the house and somebody has to harvest the food you eat and somebody has to make the clothes you wear. you can't eliminate inconvenience you can only delegate it. you can't eliminate suffering you can only delegate it. and always the easiest way to live with this is to see that somebody as less than. less than you less than people. and if that somebody has to wear your body to do it well maybe it's not all that different. they're not a person. you are. it's capitalism all the way down baby

[matt-murdockk]

Time

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

words: 2.8k

summary: On their wedding night, (Y/n) disappears in Matt’s arms-blipped without warning. For five years, he mourns her, tormented by grief and hallucinations. When she returns, unchanged, he’s convinced she’s not real. (angst mostly with fluff ending)

warnings: angst, cussing, lack of proofreading rip, set in infinity war - endgame timeline (reader getting blipped, etc)

a/n: Listen, my boy Matt is the PERFECT practice for writing angst. I just like to put him in situations and watch him like he's in a fish tank and I'm outside tapping on the glass. This man absolutely cannot catch a break and while I am partially to blame (cause I'm writing it this time), just how Matt is written in general is in a way that it just makes sense to put him through shit. He is a walking amalgam of Catholic Guilt, adrenaline, and poor decision making and I love him so much. This one is a boatload of angst but I threw in some fluff in the ending because well, we deserve good things.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The apartment door creaked open with the softest thud, and then her back hit it as Matt pressed her gently against the wood, lips grazing her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. He was smiling.

That rare, devastating smile he only wore when it was just them.

“You’re supposed to carry me across the threshold, remember?” she whispered, breathless with laughter.

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Matt murmured. “Just wanted a moment alone with my wife first.”

Wife.

The word made her stomach flip in a good way- warm and giddy and ridiculous.

He scooped her up easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other at her back, and she looped her arms around his neck like she’d never let go. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“I’m legally required to now,” he said with a smirk. “It’s in the vows. Carry you everywhere. Worship the ground you walk on. Try not to lose my mind over how good you look in that dress.”

“Flawless delivery, Murdock,” she teased. “Truly. I can tell you definitely wrote your own vows.”

He chuckled against her shoulder as he carried her through the doorway into the quiet, dimly lit apartment. Candles flickered. Soft music still hummed faintly from the speaker they forgot to turn off before the ceremony.

And for a second- just one perfect second- it was all stillness. Just them. Just this.

He set her down gently, hands lingering at her waist. They kissed again, slower now. Softer. Everything feeling like it had finally settled into place. She pressed her forehead to his, heart beating a little too fast.

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“I’ll beat you to it,” he murmured, eyes closing, nose brushing hers. “You’re here. You’re mine. We made it.”

She smiled, eyes glassy. “We did.”

They stood there for a while. Just holding each other. Breathing the same air. Wedding bands warm against skin.

But then-

She shifted slightly in his arms. Her brows furrowed.

“Matt?”

He straightened a little, instantly alert. “Yeah?”

“I feel... weird.”

He tilted his head, concern filtering through his features. “Weird how?”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know. It’s like- I just got dizzy all of a sudden. Like the room’s moving.”

Matt gently guided her toward the couch, helping her sit down. “Okay. Just breathe. You might be dehydrated. Or just- adrenaline crash.”

She tried to smile. “Yeah. Big day. Lots of emotions. Too many speeches.”

She stood too fast. Her hand slipped from his.

“Careful,” Matt said, already reaching for her again. “Take it slow- ”

“I think I need to throw up,” she mumbled, voice shaky.

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, already guiding her. “Bathroom’s just- ”

She staggered.

Her balance tipped.

Matt caught her by the waist before she could fall. “Hey. Hey, I got you. It’s okay- ”

She didn’t answer.

Her body felt... lighter. Unsteady. Like her weight was shifting in his arms.

He tilted his head, trying to focus on her. “(Y/n)? You with me?”

She looked up at him.

Confused.

Scared.

“M-Matt, I...”

And then her voice just- cut out.

His arms were suddenly empty.

He blinked.

No sound. No step. No breath.

Just... gone.

The faintest warmth lingered against his fingertips- and then something like dust scattered through them.

“What the- ?” he whispered, stepping back. “(Y/n)?”

His hand shook. Her scent was still in the room. Her heartbeat-

No. No, that wasn’t right.

He turned, listening harder, straining his senses.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

The silence grew louder. His throat closed up.

“(Y/n)?”

He moved down the hallway. Checked the bathroom. The bedroom. “(y/n), c’mon. Say something.”

No heartbeat. No motion. Not even the creak of a floorboard. Like she’d never been there. Matt’s chest started to cave in.

“Okay, this isn’t- this doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Maybe you passed out. Maybe you hit your head. Maybe- ”

His foot bumped something.

Her ring.

Her wedding ring.

Lying on the floor.

His knees hit the hardwood before he could stop them. “No.”

He crawled forward, hands blindly reaching, as if she might be hidden just out of reach.

“(Y/n)!” His voice cracked. “Where are you?!”

Still nothing.

Just the flicker of the candles.

Just the soft sound of ash settling.

“No, no- God, no!” He stood again. Stumbled. Slipped.

“(Y/n)!” He shouted so hard it tore something in his throat. “Talk to me!”

He made it to the front door. Opened it. Nothing. No one. No footsteps. No sounds of retreat. Matt’s breathing picked up. His fingers trembled as he unlocked his phone, nearly dropping it before hitting Call.

Foggy.

It rang once. Twice-

Pick up.

The sound of the city outside had changed. He could hear it.

Screaming. Tires screeching. Glass shattering six blocks over. Someone crying for help. Sirens multiplying like wildfire. It all surged into his head at once- too much, too fast.

He pressed his palm against his ear, gritting his teeth. “Too loud. I can’t- ”

Click.

“Matt?” Foggy answered, out of breath. “Hey, shouldn’t you be- ?”

“She’s gone,” Matt said immediately, voice fraying. “Foggy- she was right here, and then she just... disappeared.”

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?”

“I mean she turned to ash in my hands,” Matt snapped, breath catching. “I was holding her. She said she felt sick and then- then she just... she was gone.”

There was a pause.

“Matt, hang on- wait- ” Foggy’s voice shifted, panic creeping in. “I think... Matt, something’s happening. It’s not just her.”

Matt stilled. “What do you mean?”

“I’m outside and people are vanishing. Right in front of me. There was a guy walking beside me- just turned to dust. A woman screaming for her kid, and the kid vanished. A guy in a cab just disappeared behind the wheel, Matt. It crashed into a light post.”

Matt pressed a hand to the center of his chest like he could anchor himself to the sound of Foggy’s voice. But even that was drowned out by the chaos around him.

“I can’t hear her,” he whispered. “Her heartbeat- her breathing- it’s just gone. Like she was never here, foggy.”

Foggy’s voice came through again, strained and tense. “It’s happening everywhere. I can’t keep up. There’s shouting, people running- I think half the crowd outside just vanished. I’m not exaggerating.”

Matt stumbled toward the couch, hand landing on the coffee table. “She was right here.”

“I’m coming to you,” Foggy said quickly. “Stay there, Matt. Don’t go outside- Jesus Christ, someone else just- ”

The line crackled. Cut out. Came back.

Matt’s hands were shaking as he reached for the remote.

The TV flicked on.

"...mass disappearances reported in New York, Chicago, London- this is now confirmed to be a global event..."

Footage played- Times Square chaos. Pedestrians turning to dust mid-step. News anchors looking off-camera in horror. Phones on the ground. Car alarms going off in every direction.

“We are receiving reports that approximately half the world’s population has- vanished.”

The camera panned to a child’s stuffed toy, untouched, lying in a pile of ash. Everything was still. Except the noise. And the empty space beside him on the floor.

“She was right here,” he said again, softly. Like it might undo it.

“She was right here.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

five years later

She came back mid-step.

One foot lifted toward the bathroom- and when it landed, everything was wrong.

The apartment was darker. Colder. Rearranged.

The soft glow from the corner lamp was unfamiliar. The kitchen counter had a different crack. The rug was new. The air carried a different scent- like dust and time and a city that had moved on without her.

“Matt?” she called, voice hoarse.

Silence.

She stepped further in. The living room looked lived-in, but not by her. Not anymore. Not for a long time. The coffee table was cluttered with open case files. There was a cane by the door she didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded faster.

“Matt-?”

And then he was there. He stood in the doorway like he’d been carved from stone, unreadable and unmoved. Then, quietly- too calmly- he said, “So. You’re back.”

She stopped cold.

“Matt-”

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if studying her. “Took longer this time.”

“What…?” she breathed.

“Usually you show up around hour thirty-six,” he said, like it was a fact. “Right after the exhaustion hits but before the whiskey does anything useful.”

Her stomach twisted. “Matt, I’m not-”

“Don’t,” he cut in, sharp. “Don’t do that.”

She swallowed hard. “This isn’t what you think.”

“No?” His voice was soft, even, lethal. “Because it looks a hell of a lot like every other time I’ve lost my mind and imagined you standing in this room.”

(Y/n) blinked, her chest rising and falling too fast. “Matt, I- I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, no trace of humor. “You wouldn’t.”

“I was just- I felt sick and then it was cold, and everything looked wrong and-" Her words tangled, tripping over each other. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer.

“Matt?”

Nothing.

She took a tentative step forward. “Please. Say something. What happened? What- what’s going on?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His voice, when it came, was low and sharp, like a scalpel slicing through skin without even trying.

“Don’t do this to me again.”

Her breath caught. “What- what do you mean, again?”

“I know your routine now,” he said, voice tightening with each word. “You show up, confused. You ask questions. You cry. And then just when I start to believe you might be real- when I almost let myself feel something again- you vanish.”

“Matt, I don’t- ”

“No,” he snapped. “Stop. Just stop.”

She froze. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his jaw locked, eyes unreadable.

“You know what it’s like to bury someone without a body, (Y/n)?” he asked. “To sit in this apartment with your ring in my hand, trying to convince myself that ash on the floor was all that was left of you?”

She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t remember anything-”

“Exactly,” he said, bitter. “You never do. That’s the trick, isn’t it? You pretend like you’re all confused. Like you don’t know what’s happening. And I- I fall for it. Every time. Like an idiot.”

“Matt- please, just listen to my heartbeat-”

“I did,” he cut in. “I’ve heard it before. Right before it disappears.”

Her lips trembled. “I swear I’m not-”

“You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice suddenly shaking, but no less cruel. “You don’t get to come back here like nothing happened. Like you didn’t leave me bleeding on the floor that night. Like I didn’t spend years trying to claw my way out of what you left behind.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she whispered.

“But you’re dead,” Matt hissed, stepping close enough for her to feel the heat off his skin. “You died. And whatever this is- this illusion, this dream- it doesn’t change that. You don’t get to hurt me again.”

He said it like a closing statement. Like a sentence passed down after a trial that never had a chance. But he didn’t stop there.

“You think this is easy for me?” he went on, voice low, cracking at the edges now. “You think I want to keep seeing you in doorways? Hearing your voice when I close my eyes? You think I haven’t begged for it to stop?”

(Y/n) stood frozen, lips parted, tears streaking silently down her face.

“I have spent five years trying to forget the exact way you said my name before you disappeared. Five years trying not to hear it in someone else’s mouth. Five years waking up thinking you might be there- just once- and then realizing that all I’ve got left is a bed that’s too big and silence that’s too loud.”

He was pacing now, hands in his hair, breathing hard, unable to stop himself.

“You were my wife. You were supposed to be the rest of my life. And I had you for minutes. You were ripped out of my arms before I even got to love you properly. Do you understand that? Do you even get what you left behind?”

“Matt-”

“I grieved you like a man who’d never believe in God again,” he growled. “I went back to that night a thousand times in my head-wondering if I missed something, if I could’ve saved you, if I’d just done one thing different-”

“Matt-”

“I begged,” he snapped. “I begged God to bring you back. I lost everything trying to survive you. And now you show up here, looking exactly the same, like time hasn’t touched you, like you’re just picking up where you left off- like you didn’t burn me to the fucking ground-”

“Matt.”

She said it once.

Quietly.

And then she reached for him.

He flinched on instinct, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, gently, deliberately, she took his hand in hers- still trembling from the weight of his words- and guided it up between them.

To her chest. To her heartbeat. Right there. Steady. Real. Alive. His breath hitched. She kept his hand pressed there, fingers wrapped around his wrist like she could anchor him to this one undeniable truth.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not in your head. I don’t know how or why or what the hell happened, but I’m here.”

Matt didn’t move at first. Just stood there, hand pressed to her chest, like he didn’t trust what he was feeling. Like it might stop if he acknowledged it out loud. Then- suddenly- he let out a shaky breath and pulled her into him, hard.

His voice was muffled against her shoulder. “What the fuck.”

Her hands gripped his shirt like she was afraid he’d drop her again. “Yeah, what the fuck. I don’t know what’s happening.”

He laughed once, breathless and half-broken. “Yeah. Me neither.”

They just stood there for a second. Breathing each other in. Trying to recalibrate. Then, against his chest, she mumbled, “You look like shit, by the way.”

It slipped out before she could stop it. Matt let out an actual laugh- short, incredulous, almost like it startled him.

“That’s not funny,” he said, wiping at his eyes, still half-laughing.

She smiled weakly. “Little bit funny.”

He shook his head, still not quite believing any of it. “God, I missed you.”

And then he kissed her.

Desperate and real and messy- too much force, too much urgency, like he didn’t trust it to last. His hands found her face, holding her like he needed proof she was solid. She kissed him back just as hard, fingers in his hair, anchoring him to now. To her.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. And that was enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a little bonus content because well it was funny in my head

A few days later

She was curled up next to him on the couch, legs tangled, one of his old hoodies hanging off her shoulder. The TV was on, volume low, neither of them really watching.

She was still catching up- on everything. The blip. The aftermath. The years she missed. Sometimes it hit her like a freight train. Other times, like now, it just snuck up and poked her in the ribs.

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “Wait a second.”

Matt tilted his head toward her. “Uh-oh.”

She sat up a little. “So… technically, you’re five years older than me now?”

He blinked. “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?”

“It’s a valid question,” she insisted, grinning. “I married a man my age, not some grizzled thirty-something.”

He scoffed. “Grizzled?”

“I mean, I don’t see any grey hairs, but-”

“I’m blind, not deaf. I heard that smirk.”

She tried to hold back a laugh. Failed. “So you’re like… what, thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-seven,” he corrected flatly.

“Oh no. I married an older man.”

Matt deadpanned, “And I married a time traveler. Guess we’re even.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “You gonna start calling me ‘kid’ now?”

He turned toward her, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth. “Only if you want to see how fast a five-year age gap doesn’t matter.”

Her face flushed. “Okay, grandpa.”

Matt groaned. “Regret. Immediate regret.”

She laughed, leaning back into him again, warm and solid and finally, finally real.

“Still married me,” she said, smug.

“Still would,” he replied, without hesitation.

And that shut her up for a minute.

[syluxs]

shower for two

pairing: sylus/reader

summary: showering together for the first time, you expected something intense--overflowing tension, something unmistakably heated. but instead, it was easy, playful. sylus has proved once again that he wasn’t like other men, washing your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world

notes: pure fluff i wanna combust

honestly, you had expected this to be….. intense. awkward. full of charged tension. after all, seeing each other naked during that time was different--there was an urgency, a purpose. there was an unspoken heat that left no room for hesitation.

but showering together?

you were both level-headed, fully aware, with nothing to hide behind. that made it feel almost too different. also, it was a me time thing for you back then. a moment of solitude. a time to think, to let your mind wander, to just be in the calm. it wasn’t supposed to be shared--at least, not with anyone else before you started dating sylus. this was yours, something personal, something just for you.

yet here you were.

sylus was completely unfazed. with an ease that only he could pull off, he took off his towel and neatly hung it up--because of course he would. he wasn’t some unhygienic guy who would just let it drop onto the floor.

your eyes widened at his action, mouth parted slightly in shock at him being so casual abt this.

he noticed, of course, and let out a deep chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction.

"really?" he teased, tilting his head at you. "it's nothing you haven't seen before."

you frowned at him, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. slowly, deliberately, you removed your own towel--though far less smoothly than he had--and awkwardly hung it up, mirroring his movements like some kind of hesitant, poor attempt at composure.

you stood there for a moment, shifting uncomfortably, as if trying make yourself invisible. your posture was stiff, like you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

finally, after a deep breath, you hesitantly stepped toward the shower, trying to make yourself seem as small as possible.

sylus immediately noticed your unusual sheepishness. instead of teasing, he simply let out a soft chuckle and, like it was the most natural thing to say, he said, "why are you hiding, kitten? you're beautiful, you know that."

your entire body tensed. it was such a casual compliment, but it hit you like a tidal wave. you could feel ur stomach making all sorts of movements, heat rising to your face as you struggled to keep your composure.

maybe this was just the honeymoon phase, since you had only recently started dating. but still, it had always been like this with sylus, even before you were together. the feelings were always intense, ready to swallow you whole.

he reached out and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up before stepping under the stream. you watched as he tilted his head back, running a hand through his wet white hair, his red eyes momentarily closing as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh. the sight made your heart do an embarrassing little skip. his toned muscles stood out under the bathroom light, water running over the sharp lines of his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest. with his hair pushed back, his sharp, handsome features were on full display--something you tried so hard not to openly admire.

instead of making a snarky comment or throwing a teasing smirk on at how shy you were acting, like you expected from the dynamics where you two started out, even before dating, he just… hummed. content. relaxed.

"water’s nice," he murmured. "you getting in or just gonna stand there and stare?"

you scoffed, stepping in. "not staring. just mentally preparing myself."

"for what?" his lips twitched. "afraid you’ll get overwhelmed by my beauty?"

"more like bracing myself for the ego explosion."

sylus chuckled, stepping aside to let you under the stream. the warm water cascaded over you, washing away any lingering awkwardness. for a moment, you stood there, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation.

then--

"hey, move," you grumbled, nudging his side when he took up way too much space. "you’re hogging the water."

"i am the taller one here," he pointed out. "makes sense i take up more space."

"that’s not how this works," you huffed, shoving at his arm. "equal shower rights. scoot."

he let out a dramatic sigh but shifted over, giving you a bit more room. but just as you started shampooing your hair, you felt a hand on your head.

you blinked up at him. "what are you doing?"

"saving time." he said as he lathered the shampoo into your hair.

you narrowed your eyes. "this is suspiciously nice of you. are you planning something?"

"do i need a reason to do this?” he smirked. "besides, your height makes it easier for me to reach."

"maybe you're enjoying this a bit too much."

"maybe," he admitted, fingers massaging your scalp in slow, deliberate movements.

you almost melted on the spot. okay, maybe sharing a shower wasn’t that bad. in fact, it was actually kind of….. nice. relaxing.

but, of course, sylus couldn’t resist being sylus.

"you look like a wet cat right now."

"oh my gosh, get out." you playfully pushed at him, but he barely budged, his laughter only growing.

sylus was completely unbothered as he grabbed some soap and turned you around. "stay still," he muttered, running his hands over your back with gentle efficiency. his touch was firm but careful, working in slow, methodical circles as he scrubbed away the suds.

honestly, with how most men were, you expected this to have some kind of tension, maybe even turn into something intense, something undeniably charged with anticipation. but it wasn’t. not even close. and you felt so good about that, because once again, sylus had proven he wasn’t like other men. damn.

you huffed but let him, feeling oddly pampered.

when he finished, you grabbed the soap and grinned up at him. "your turn."

sylus raised a brow but turned around, giving you access to his broad back. you dragged the soap along his toned muscles, biting back a laugh at the contrast of how nonchalant he had been about touching you versus how stiff he got when you did the same.

then, unable to resist, you playfully smacked his ass.

he jolted, nearly slipping. "what was that for?"

"couldn’t help myself," you grinned. "prime, golden opportunity."

his ears turned red, and for the first time since you stepped in, he looked flustered. “you're unbelievable.”

"aww, don’t be shy, kitten," you teased, mimicking his earlier words.

sylus groaned, covering his face with one hand. "i regret everything."

he may have said that, but he didn’t mean it. not even a little. the way his lips twitched, the way his red eyes softened when he looked at you--it was obvious. no matter how much you exasperated him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[satellite-evans]

lovesick

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando takes care of you when you're sick <3

Word count: 1.1k+ ( something cute and sweet)

Warnings: nothing but tooth aching fluff

A/N:

I have noticed that I always write how reader takes care of people so I decided to do the oppossite, hope you guys will like it!

Also, I think I am shadowbanned, so if you guys could please send me feedback and show some support, that would be really helpful and would mean so much to me xx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

You were curled up in bed, cocooned in a mountain of blankets, sniffling miserably as the sound of rain tapped against the window. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, your throat burned, and every muscle in your body ached. Being sick was never fun, but it was even worse when Lando was supposed to be home for the weekend, and all your plans had gone out the window.

Lando peeked his head into the bedroom, a small frown on his face as he took in the sight of you buried under the covers.

“How’s my patient doing?” he asked gently, stepping into the room with a tray in his hands.

You eyed the tray warily, voice hoarse as you spoke. “Please tell me you didn’t make that.”

Lando scoffed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as he set the tray down on the nightstand. “Wow, the lack of faith in me is honestly offensive.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Lando.”

He let out a sheepish chuckle. “Alright, alright. No, I didn’t make it. I have no intention of killing you with my cooking.”

You sighed in relief. “Smart choice.”

“Hey, I could’ve at least tried.”

“Exactly. And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Lando let out a playful huff as he settled onto the edge of the bed. “Not even a little credit?”

You gave him a weak smile. “Fine. Thank you for your excellent decision-making skills in ordering food instead of poisoning me.”

“Much better,” he said smugly, grabbing the spoon and stirring the soup. “Now, Nurse Norris is here to make sure you eat, drink, and get back to being my energetic, non-sick girlfriend.”

You chuckled weakly, your throat scratchy from the effort. “Nurse Norris?”

“Yep. On call 24/7,” he said with a wink. “Now, open up.”

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, letting him feed you a spoonful of warm broth. The heat was soothing against your sore throat, and you sighed contentedly.

“See?” he said smugly. “Taking care of you isn’t so bad, right?”

“I guess,” you admitted, swallowing another bite. “But if you start wearing a nurse’s outfit, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Lando gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? I would rock that look.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t doubt that, honestly.”

He grinned, brushing a few strands of hair from your forehead. His touch was warm against your clammy skin, and you instinctively leaned into it. His expression softened. “You’re burning up,” he murmured, concern flashing in his blue eyes. “Did you take any medicine?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but it hasn’t really kicked in yet.”

Lando hummed thoughtfully before tucking the blankets around you a little tighter. “Alright, let’s get some more food in you, then. Maybe it’ll help.”

You stared at the bowl of soup he handed you, not feeling hungry but knowing you needed to eat. You took a small spoonful, but your mind kept drifting back to how everything had changed.

“This was supposed to be our weekend,” you murmured, your voice hoarse as you glanced up at him, a sad smile on your face. “I was so excited for it.”

Lando frowned, his brow furrowing as he noticed the change in your tone. He gently placed the spoon back into the bowl, his focus now entirely on you. “Hey, I know. I was looking forward to it too.”

“I know,” you said, your voice quieter. “It was the first time in so long we had the weekend off together. I planned everything—movie nights, dinner, maybe even a little walk in the park. All of it. And now… I’m stuck in bed, and you’re taking care of me.”

Lando’s expression softened with empathy as he sat down next to you, brushing his hand over your hair. “You didn’t plan this, babe. You didn’t want to get sick.”

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes closing as you leaned into his touch. “I know, but it just feels like bad timing. I’ve missed you so much, Lando. The last few weeks have been crazy, and I was really looking forward to this. Just us. And now... I’m ruining it.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but insistent. “You’re sick. It happens. And you know what? We’ll make up for it. I promise. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze, seeing nothing but care and reassurance in his blue eyes. He smiled softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “Plus, this way, I get to take care of you. That’s better than any of the other plans anyway.”

You sniffed, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “I just wanted to make the most of it. We don’t always get this much time together.”

“I know, I know,” Lando said, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand. “I hate that this is happening when we had so many things we wanted to do. But we’ll have other weekends, I promise. And we’ll make them just as special.”

A tear slipped from the corner of your eye, and you quickly wiped it away, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m being dramatic.”

Lando shook his head, his voice soft as he spoke. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel disappointed. But you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here. And we’ll get through this weekend together, even if it’s not what we planned.”

You let out a small laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. “I guess this weekend is just me, you, and a mountain of blankets.”

“Exactly,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “And some soup, and tea, and maybe some Netflix marathons.”

“Even though you hate Netflix?” You asked with a smirk.

“Even though I hate Netflix.”

You smiled at that, grateful for his efforts to make you feel better. “You really do know how to make the best of things, don’t you?”

Lando grinned, his eyes brightening. “What can I say? I’m an expert at turning around bad situations. And right now, all I care about is making sure you feel better.”

You leaned back into the pillows, your heart swelling with affection as he continued to fuss over you, making sure you were comfortable. Even though things hadn’t gone as planned, having Lando by your side, taking care of you, was all you really needed.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting the blankets around you again. “Let’s get some rest. I’ll stay right here and keep you company. We’ll make the best of this weekend, even if it’s just us hanging out in bed.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile, the sadness in your heart slowly melting away as you realized that even though things hadn’t gone according to plan, you still had each other. “Thanks, Lando. Really.”

He kissed your forehead softly, his voice low and sincere. “Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.”