#i moaned when i saw the file (real)

[chrisbangs]

Bang Chan .:. 특 (S-Class) MusicCore [230610]

[fictionismyreality3]

Learned your lesson? (18+)

Simon Riley x Reader

Tags: Smut, daddy!simon, angry!simon

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, thigh riding, daddy kink, face slapping, slight impact play, spanking, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, exhibitionism if you squint

Notes: absolute dEBaUchErY 🤪 but I have no regrets 🤭 gimme a chance and I’d let Simon ruin my-

In hindsight, the situation you were in was probably your fault.

You hadn’t meant to make Simon angry, and he wasn’t really, but you were being a brat. In your defence, having him away from you all the time got a little lonely, and you could only fuck yourself with the dildo he got you so many times before you started wanting the real thing.

That’s why you had blown up his phone all day, sending him video after video of you fucking yourself in every room of your apartment, moaning his name as you came. In the back of your mind, you knew it was a bad idea, but it felt so deliciously good to imagine his eyes widening as he stood on base and got all your little gifts, especially when you were riding the dildo with his t-shirt on.

Your hands gripped the black marble countertop of your shared bathroom as you bounced your ass back against the wall, the hyper-realistic dildo hitting you just right. When Simon showed up with a clone-a-willy kit in hand before a long deployment, you nearly spat out the soda you were drinking.

“What the fuck is that?” You managed to sputter as you coughed, trying not to spit soda all over the living room carpet.

“Your stress reliever, luv’.” Simon’s eyes sparked behind his balaclava as he chuckled with mirth.

The rest of that night consisted of you whispering in his ear and tracing his neck with your tongue, keeping him hard as you carried out your diy sex toy production.

And now, as you fucked yourself on your clone of Simon’s cock, your phone propped up to record, the dildo did its job, but it wasn’t Simon.

It wasn’t him.

That’s why you made sure to look directly into the camera as you felt the familiar sparks building up in your core, and when you came, you let him know how much you missed him.

What you couldn’t have known, was that the wifi on base was horrendous. You’d think with the budget going towards the military, they could at least invest in a new router, but no. Simon often had to struggle through paperwork, which he already detested, waiting for the tiniest files to load. In your eagerness to tease him, you sent all the videos at once, but couldn’t have known that they’d take ages to get delivered.

By the time they reached their destination, blowing up Simon’s phone all at once, it was hours after you’d initially hit send. It was nearly impossible for him to be away from you as it is. As soon as he saw your face the day you met, he knew that he’d be needing you for the rest of his life.

He didn’t like leaving you and he didn’t like sharing.

Two weeks away from the only reminder of having a normal life was already painstaking. It was the last day on base and Simon was counting down the minutes till he could get home and show you how much he missed you. The time spent rubbing himself in the barracks bathroom, jerking his cock to the thought of you, all it had done was provide temporary relief. He needed the real thing.

He needed to be buried so deep in your tight little cunt that he made himself a part of you with each thrust.

Simon was counting down the minutes as he sat through the last briefing of the day, just a few hours away from getting to let out all his pent up tension, when his phone began to buzz endlessly. His heart spiked, threatening to burst from his throat as he saw the texts from you. Instantly, the worst case scenarios of what could’ve happened ran through his mind. He wasn’t a paranoid man by any means, but when it came to you, the only thing that mattered more that keeping you happy was your safety.

What if something happened? What if you were hurt? What if you’d been taken hostage and someone was sending him videos of you being tortured?

Okay, so, maybe a little paranoid.

Not wanting to wait in agonizing curiosity, he clicked open the attachment.

Within seconds, sounds of your wanton moaning filled the room, your breathy whimpers of his name silencing the rest of the 141 who had been debriefing. All eyes snapped to Simon as he fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the floor in his haste to mute the video. This interrupted Soap’s guffawing, as his eyes locked on the screen, the video of you riding the dildo he got you playing on repeat.

“Jesus Christ, Lt! Tha’ yer woman? She’s a sight to-” Gaz smacked him upside the head as Price tried to avert his eyes, clearing his throat.

“Watch your fuckin’ eyes, Johnny, before I rip ‘em outta your skull.” Simon snapped.

Finally, he managed to switch the video off, but the damage was done. Even though he sat as still as a statue for the rest of the brief, his balaclava hidden face betraying no emotion despite Soap’s repeatedly cheeky comments, Simon was livid.

From the time he first took you, he ruined you for anyone else. Nobody could replace him, nobody could break you or make you scream like he did. But you’d ruined everything else for him too. And just the thought of someone else getting to have you, getting to touch even an inch of your skin, was enough that he had to ball his fists so as not to throttle Johnny’s neck.

He trusted his guys with his life, even if he’d never tell them that. But this was different.

This was you.

While you giggling conspiratorially to yourself, thinking about the fun you’d have with him when he got home, Simon was whiteknuckling the wheel of his truck, trying not to break the speed limit to get home to you faster. His cock was achingly hard as he ran over how he planned to punish you again and again in his mind. You’d love every second of it, he always made sure you did, but he wanted to tease you just like you did him.

This is what he loved about you. How you were so eager to please, but so eager to rile him up, it was the perfect combination to make Simon’s cock scream at him to fuck your pretty throat.

He nearly ran a stop sign imaging cumming in your greedy mouth.

His dirty girl.

His greedy girl. He definitely couldn’t give you the usual treatment this time. The thought of your ass marked up with his handprints after a spanking was tempting, but you would enjoy it far too much. He wanted to see you struggle to get even the slightest bit of relief after the stunt you pulled.

The rumbling of his truck signalled his arrival to your keen ears, and you jumped up from the couch, running to the front door of the cozy house you’d bought together to stand on the porch waiting for him.

Simon got out of his truck. He knew you were standing there, where you always were to welcome him home after a deployment, but he didn’t look at you. Getting his gear bag from the back, he slung it over his shoulders and trudged up the front stairs. His kit was well over 100 pounds, but he still managed to carry it with one hand. The other hand shot out to wrap around your throat, causing you to stumble on your feet.

“Simo-” Your greeting was cut of by your now restricted air supply, and your hands instinctively clawed at his grip on your throat. He didn’t utter a word, only reached around you to open the door, pushing you inside as he followed, closing it with his foot.

You were pinned up against the wall as soon as his gear bag had hit the ground, and you could already hear his ragged breaths.

“D’you have any idea,” He huffed, trying to restrain himself from just fucking you against the wall. “how much shit you’re in for… love?” He ground out the pet name like it took effort for him to keep from swearing even more.

You quickly ran through everything that you could have done wrong in your mind. Sure, you’d been a brat all day, but Simon liked when you were bratty from time to time. Nothing you could think of could explain the tightly contained anger that was rippling off of him.

“What? Did you not like the videos?” You managed to say breathily, the grip on your throat keeping you perched on the edge of loosing your breath. “Did I not like the-” Simon stopped to let out a low, raspy chuckle, his head dropping to the crook of your neck.

“I loved the videos, sweetheart. An’ so did the boys.” He whispered slowly into your ear.

Immediately your face scrunched up as you tried to decipher what he meant.

“What do you mean, Si? I only….oh.” The reality of your mistake hit you all at once.

Oh.

How could you have forgotten that Simon would probably be around the rest of the 141, not to mention how inept with technology he was. No wonder the rest of the team saw you. Your swirling thoughts were broken up by Simon releasing your throat, only to grab your arm, and roughly drag you over to the couch.

“‘Oh’ is right, luv’.” He murmured as he sat down, pulling you on top of his lap to straddle him. Your hands instinctively went for his balaclava, wanting to take it off and see his face, a permission only you were granted.

Before your fingers could even meet the fabric, Simon was grabbing both your wrists with one hand, pinning them to your lap. You really had poked the bear in all senses of the word. Simon was utterly massive, and he could easily palm any part of you that would take most people two hands to hold.

With his free hand, he pushed his balaclava up so it rested just underneath his nose, his lips free to kiss you. Your stomach was churning with a mix of apprehension and excitement. You knew the look in his eyes, the look he only got when he was going to break you. It was nearly impossible to keep from leaning down and pressing a kiss to his inviting lips, but you knew that you were already in as much trouble as it was.

With the way you were straddling his lap, the thin material of your shorts allowed you to feel his cock growing ridged underneath you. Heat bloomed in your core and Simon’s grip on your wrists suddenly felt electric.

“You’re a greedy cockslut, aren’t you?” He slipped the hand which wasn’t keeping your wrists trapped underneath your shirt. “So desperate you jus’ had to be a brat, hm? Had to let everyone see wha’ a needy girl you are.”

The low, condescending tone of his voice made your head swim, and your breaths began to come faster and faster as he palmed your tits, beginning to play with your nipples. You couldn’t exactly be sorry when he was making you feel so good, but there was still some guilt in the back of your mind for putting him on the spot.

“Simon, I’m-” Simon’s large hand slapped you lightly across the cheek, tugging your hair to refocus your gaze on him. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” He pinched your nipple hard, causing you to reel forwards into his chest.

“What’s my fuckin’ name, huh? Only good girls get t’call me Simon.” He dug his fingers into the skin of your wrists, the pain warning you of what would come if you weren’t more obedient.

“…daddy?” You tried quietly.

Simon’s grip on your wrists lessened instantly, and his hands began to tease at your tits again. The whiplash of pain to pleasure was something that he had perfected, and he loved the way you’d bite your lip as you struggled to catch up. All it took was just getting you to call him daddy and he could already feel you melting in his lap, your eyes getting half lidded and foggy.

“That’s right, bunny. And daddy teaches his baby how to behave doesn’t he?” Simon said expectantly, beginning to peel off his t-shirt you were wearing.

“Y-yes, daddy.” The cold air hit your skin, sending a shiver through body as you were left in just your thin pajama shorts, straddling your hulk of a boyfriend. Without the t-shirt in the way, Simon had easy access to your gorgeous tits, and took the opportunity to take a nipple in between his teeth, his other hand running up and down your back.

He was rock hard by now, the feeling of your soft skin on top of him sending his mind into a buzzing haze of desire. All he wanted to do was rut up into that precious pussy of yours and make you cum around his cock. But he had to be patient. He had to make sure you knew what you did wrong.

As soon as he felt you begin to rock your hips, a movement so imperceptible that only those who knew you would realize what you want, he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Simon’s eyes were narrowed in warning, and a dark chuckled left his throat.

“You’re so greedy.” He growled, his fingers digging into your thighs. “Show daddy you’re more than jus’ a needy little girl.”

“How, daddy?” You breathed.

A whine fell from your lips as you slipped further away from being rational, your head fuzzy with want as you felt Simon’s cock pressed underneath you.

“Can’t get off without my cock, hm?” He thought back to the videos of you fucking yourself on the dildo he got you. Simon loosened his grip on your hips, allowing you to move, only to shifted you so that he could tear your pajama shorts off. He lifted you slightly so that you were straddling one of his thighs instead.

“You wanna cum s’badly? You need it s’much that you’re a brat?”

“Fuck yourself on my thigh then, luvie.”

Your breath left you in one big whoosh, and the moment Simon gave you permission to move, you were grinding down on his thigh. The fabric of his jeans rubbed against your clit, sending little jolts of pleasure through you.

Simon watched as your eyes got droopy, half opened through your haze of pleasure. He was still angry but right now all he could focus on was how pretty you looked. Your cheeks all flushed from his words and the exertion of grinding on him, your little hands holding onto his shoulders, and the wet spot on your panties.

“That’s it, pretty. Jus’ like that.” He groaned.

His cock felt impossibly hard, raging with need every time he looked at the way your tits bounced. Fumbling with his belt, he pulled his cock out. The noise caught your attention, and you faltered, going to reach for him. You didn’t get very far, because as soon as Simon felt you stop moving, he delivered two quick spanks to your ass.

You cried out in surprise and pain as he fisted one hand in your hair, and the other around his leaking cock. His hands were so big it made him look normal sized, but you knew he was easily almost ten inches.

“Such a whore.” He whispered, pulling your hair so your head was forced back. “Jus’ had t’get my cock in your mouth.”

Simon stroked himself lazily, savouring the wave of heat which coursed through him every time he ran a thumb over his tip. It wasn’t your touch, but it would do for now. Your gaze was forced to the ceiling as Simon kept you locked in position, observing you like his own personal work of art. The sound of his quiet groans filling your ears was torturous knowing you weren’t allowed to touch him. You could feel yourself leaking into his jeans, and knew he no doubt felt it too.

“Are you- oh, gonna be a good girl f’me?” His mouth latched on your exposed neck as he sucked a hickey into your skin, marking you as his. You were panting, practically trembling as he forced you to keep still. Simon was closer than he’d like to admit. It had been weeks since he’d touched you and just seeing you writhing on lap, trying to get whatever friction you could, made his cock leak.

“Say it, bunny.” He rasped into your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“I’ve learned my lesson, daddy. Please, can I…” You trailed off, afraid that if you asked for his cock you’d seem ever more needy.

But Simon was thrilled.

Having the love of his life, almost naked on his lap, desperate to touch him was like a dream. The hand in your hair pushed your head down, his palm big enough to cover the back of your head.

“Suck.” He growled.

Rubbing the head of his cock along your mouth, demanding entrance, you parted your lips. Simon pushed inside of your mouth, heavy on your tongue as he let out a long, drawn out groan you wished you could have on repeat.

“Shit, sweathear’- oh, fuck..” He hissed. You could feel him twitching in your mouth.

He tried to focus on anything but the warm, wet-

Oh, god.

Simon bucked his hips up and began to fuck into you without warning, sending your hands shooting out to his stomach to catch yourself. His cock hit the roof of your mouth and your throat tightened on reflex as you tried not to gag. You could feel Simon’s nails digging into your scalp as he bobbed your head up and down.

“Sorry, luv’ I jus’,” He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips around him. “Been achin’ for you, bunny. All those videos y’sent me.” He moaned, no longer able to keep himself from being gentle.

“Let daddy cum in y’mouth, sweetheart.”

The words flooded your pussy with heat, and Simon took notice of the way you moaned around his cock. He was strict, but he wasn’t cruel, and you had been good so far. Taking a little pity on you, Simon used his free hand to grab your hip, bouncing his leg so you could get a little relief. The sudden stimulation sent your dripping cunt into overdrive, and as Simon rammed his cock into your throat, you began to rut against his thigh.

He would’ve told you to keep your eyes on him, but they looked so pretty rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, yeah jus’ like that.” He said, his voice raspy as he tried to hold himself back. “Be good for daddy. Get close, luv’.”

You didn’t have to try with the way your cunt was clenching around nothing. Every bounce of his leg rubbed your clit against his jeans, and he pushed you further by holding your hip to help you grind against him. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, and Simon knew it too with the way you were moaning around his cock. Every noise you made sent a vibration through him, and he began to fuck your mouth with abandon, his balls tightening in anticipation.

“Oh, god. Oh f-fuck, bunny keep-” He spasmed in your mouth. “Keep suckin’ just like tha’. Daddy’s gonna cum in your pretty lil’ mouth.”

His words made your head spin. The only thought on your mind was drawing as much pleasure from him as you could, so you took his balls in your hand, rolling them a few times to push him over the edge. Your core was fluttering with need as you rutted against Simon’s leg, which he kept bouncing, hitting your swollen clit mercilessly. It was too much for both of you after weeks without each other.

Simon’s hand left your hip so he could tangle both hands in your hair, the need for his own pleasure taking over. You managed to glance up, wanting to see his face as he came.

“Luvie.. luvie, oh sweatheart.” His mouth hung open as he let out a noise he didn’t know he could make. The sight of you grinding desperately against his thigh tipped him over the edge.

��Oh, fuck. Bun-”

Ropes of hot, thick cum shot down your throat, filling your mouth and spilling past your lips. The taste of Simon on your tounge was enough to break you. Your mind shattered as you began rutting on his thigh, not caring how needy you looked, the heat in your pussy sent you spiralling. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you gushed all over Simon’s leg as he pressed himself so deep into your mouth that your nose hit his stomach.

He sent the last of his load down your throat and pulled your head up as you gasped for air. The world was fuzzy, but you felt two big, strong arms pulling you up from where you’d collapsed forward onto Simon’s stomach.

Taking you into his lap, he ran a hand through your hair as he rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. His cock lay resting against his stomach, big even when it was getting soft. Simon’s hand found your chin and he turned your gaze to his, helping you come back to reality by taking off his balaclava to let you see his face.

“Did so good f’me, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, making you giggle.

“Thank you, daddy.” You managed to say, your eyes getting droopy as sleepiness began to creep in.

“I think you learned your lesson, sweetheart.” He mused, noticing your breaths begin to slow. “Jus’ rest here, luv’.”

“Daddy’s got you.”

Simon watched with reverence as your head rested against his shoulder, your flushed cheeks making you look even cuter than you did choking on his cock. This was good. This was right. He’d take care of you forever, he knew it from the moment he saw you. You didn’t realize yet, but you had one hell of a guardian angel on your side.

[januaryembrs]

I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]

GIF by fightingdragonswithwho

decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone

word count: 17.5k

warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.

author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.

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‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,

I might just be in la la la la la love’

The one with the revenge.

“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck. 

“Only if they have evidence,”  Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins. 

Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth. 

“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark. 

“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.

She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss. 

She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won. 

Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long. 

And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another. 

David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him. 

Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another. 

“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section. 

They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing. 

“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer. 

“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle. 

Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.

Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so. 

He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab. 

“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face. 

“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore. 

If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on. 

-

Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her. 

“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.  

“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?” 

“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,” 

Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”

The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer. 

He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love. 

Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch. 

He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen. 

“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”

Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years. 

Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks. 

Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted. 

Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.

Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer. 

He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried. 

He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless. 

“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.

He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.

“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear. 

He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set. 

“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now. 

Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office. 

“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so. 

And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him. 

Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.

2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.

She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently. 

“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness. 

“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?” 

He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.

Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances. 

“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance. 

“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so. 

She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself. 

“You’re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms. 

“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it. 

“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking. 

“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried. 

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,” 

He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”

“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this. 

“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?” 

“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”

He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.

She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other. 

“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children. 

She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material. 

He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do. 

Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him. 

He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on. 

Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke. 

“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”

“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”

Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to. 

“...Shit,”

“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.

“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered. 

Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out. 

“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom. 

Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit. 

Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”

“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?” 

“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”

Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy. 

After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time,  Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer. 

The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.

Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-

A window. A window. That was it. 

Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough. 

Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself. 

As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze. 

Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall. 

Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror. 

A beat of silence passed between them. 

“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding. 

“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?” 

“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things. 

Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!” 

And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car. 

Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.

Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that. 

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head. 

“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead. 

Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights. 

“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror. 

“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual. 

He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips. 

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing. 

“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-”  Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,” 

He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really. 

He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become. 

“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”

“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,” 

He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more. 

“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman. 

And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep. 

And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died. 

3. The one with the fake boyfriend.

Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen. 

Because it was their room now. Not just his. 

She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work. 

It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-

He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?” 

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light. 

His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror. 

His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.

Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”

Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth. 

“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.

“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.

“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that. 

“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”

Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”

“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”

His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”

“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”

“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”

“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.

“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations. 

“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.

“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.

–

“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life. 

If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.

Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.

“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.

“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap. 

“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.

“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression. 

“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant. 

She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that. 

“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,” 

Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands. 

“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it. 

“Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”

He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin. 

“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room. 

“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more. 

“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step. 

“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer. 

“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.

He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date. 

“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them. 

“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after. 

He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second. 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”

But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime. 

He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus. 

And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry. 

–

“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat. 

“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more. 

“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,” 

“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet. 

“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,” 

“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?” 

“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”

There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly. 

And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details. 

“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations. 

And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely. 

“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”

“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”

Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,” 

“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head. 

And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend. 

God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over. 

Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego. 

But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her. 

His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh. 

“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?” 

Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker. 

4. The one where someone finds out.

“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.

“Oh, of course!  I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,” 

Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”

Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,” She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?” 

Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together. 

Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams? 

Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay. 

It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly  if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree. 

She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked. 

She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be. 

Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”

Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork. 

“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz. 

“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,” 

“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.

“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?” 

Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,” 

Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact. 

“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”

Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.

 “What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase. 

“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic. 

“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,” 

‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care. 

Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day. 

Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,” 

Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed. 

If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her. 

“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”

“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off. 

Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”

“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving. 

“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light. 

Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”

And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.

–

She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes. 

Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.

His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it. 

“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created. 

Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her. 

Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking. 

And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk. 

It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious. 

“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless. 

And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate. 

Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman. 

“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.

“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-” 

“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.

This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.

But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field. 

And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye. 

“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”

“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”

“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman. 

“Pen, I’ll explain-”

“But you- YOU!” 

“Shhh!” 

“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,” 

JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down. 

“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.

“You don’t wanna know,”

–

“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly. 

“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast. 

“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-” 

“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,” 

Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”

If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again. 

“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze. 

“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home. 

“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden. 

“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”

“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,” 

They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.

Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,” 

Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,” 

Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.

“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”

And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul. 

Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast. 

Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate. 

“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair. 

“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,” 

And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was. 

5. The one where he gets shot.

“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,” 

“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp. 

Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step. 

So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders. 

She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd. 

She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it. 

Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public. 

So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.

And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster. 

His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met. 

I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you. 

–

“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”

“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..” 

Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now. 

“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,” 

Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.

“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!” 

There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her. 

“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,” 

Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?

“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.” 

She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly. 

“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her. 

“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her. 

Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub. 

He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of. 

Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy. 

Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently. 

“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”

Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.

–

Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.

“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line. 

Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.

Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid. 

“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her. 

Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay. 

“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?” 

“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,” 

“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,” 

Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders. 

“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword. 

She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-

“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first. 

She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face. 

Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.  

She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse. 

“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip. 

It was going to be a long night. 

–

Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice. 

He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery. 

Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. 

She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it. 

“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him. 

“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”

“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,” 

It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same. 

Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew. 

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”

“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”

Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly. 

“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,” 

Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile. 

He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?” 

Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had. 

+1. The one where they tell everyone

She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast. 

Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend. 

And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer. 

And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least. 

She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor. 

She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be. 

“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”

But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain. 

And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers. 

Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him. 

She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle. 

“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.

He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending. 

--

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[starlightsuffered]

Professor Chalamet

Warnings - Teacher and student (duh), oral (male and female receiving), secret relationship, spanking, name calling, needing to be quiet. Unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk

“That is the meaning behind the character of Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you are dismissed,” Professor Chalamet said.

“Except for you Y/N,” he called to me. I gulped. Was today finally the day that he picked up on the not so subtle hints I’d been dropping?

Drama 101 had been interesting since the first morning I walked in, and saw Professor Chalamet. He was gorgeous. Piercing hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, decadent curly hair. I was in heaven. I felt very happy that I’d arrived early out of anxiety. The two of us had, had a very nice conversation. Since then I’d made the very pornoesque decision, to get his attention.

He was just so damn stoic and calm. It seemed like nothing phased him. He never reacted. The semester was almost over, and I had no idea if I’d seen him again. I had to make a bold move. Our final was turning in a script for a short film. Our rough drafts had been due last week. I’d handed him “The Professor’s Secret.” A story about a Professor fucking his student. I’d even been so courageous as to name the Professor, Professor Chardonnay.

I was shaking with anticipation as I approached his desk. Students filed out of the classroom, giving me pitying looks. They didn’t understand this was all I wanted. I shivered as I remembered the door locked itself when you went out.

“Y/n,” Professor Chalamet called my attention back to him. I walked slowly to his desk. I made sure to swish my hips slightly. I was wearing a tiny, pink, skater skirt, and a white button down. I had dressed up just for him, and I desperately wanted him to know it.

“What is this?” He asked calmly, holding up my script.

“My rough draft sir,” I said politely. He ran a hand over his face, and when I looked at him again, I was shocked. The anger on his face was real and cold. Usually, he was all smiles and gentle words. This was different.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He asked menacingly. This was going wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He was truly angry. What would he do? Would he tell the school board? Would I get kicked out? Fuck, why did I let my pussy do all the thinking? Now there’s going to be a Fox News segment about me.

“Can you even comprehend how many times I’ve read this? How I’ve poured over it? I’ve cum so many times from this alone, it is haunting me,” he explained desperately. My world was spinning at hearing him talk like this. Thinking of him cumming to just my writing was mesmerizing. Imagine what I could do to him with my real self.

“What are you saying Professor?” I asked coyly as I walked closer to him slowly.

“Do you know how many papers I’ve neglected, to read this again and again?” He growled.

“Maybe you should punish me,” I suggested.

He looked at me for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained look.

“I’ve tried my damndest this semester to not give into carnal pleasures. My resistance is reaching it breaking point.”

“What if I want it to break?” I asked. I slowly, slowly, lowered myself to my knees in from of him. “What if I want to help it break.”

“Holy Hell,” he gasped. “You can’t tell anyone about this, not anyone you understand? Not a friend, not a sister or brother.”

“Oh stop,” I said squeezing his package. He shakily reached out to grab his desk.

“I want this as much as you do, why would I ruin the fun?”

He nodded, and unzippered his pants for me. My eyes bulged at his impressive length, and my mouth was watering. I took him in as far as I could go. I moaned as I felt his hand pulling on my hair. I sucked at him, moving up and down his cock. My spit was dripping down my chin, and onto the floor, but I wanted so badly to be good for him.

“Off,” he commanded, and I whined as he removed his cock from me.

I stood up and he kissed me roughly, hands massaging my breasts that were still clothed. One of his hands went down to grab handfuls of my ass.

“Do you wear those slutty little outfits for me everyday?” He asked, after he’d pulled away

“Yes, for you, all for you.”

“So, you’re just fine with distracting your Professor, while he’s trying to make a living,” he growled.

“Did it work?” I asked.

“You little minx,” he pushed me away from him. He cleared a section of him desk, and pushed me down on it. He pushed up my skirt, and pulled down my thong. He hissed as he saw the wet patch he’d made me create.

“I’m getting my ruler, you stay there,” he demanded. I did as I was told, lightly rubbing my thighs together for some sort of friction.

I heard the slap of the ruler on his hand as he approached me. I shivered with anticipation.

“You deserve punishment. Only bad girls rile up their professors in class, only bad girls write such filthy scripts.”

A smack came down on my ass and I stifled a cry. He instantly was massaging the red skin.

“Were you worried I wasn’t noticing the way you whored yourself out to me every class?”

Smack! Another blow had landed on my ass. I was loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Please Professor, may I have another?” I asked desperately.

“No, only good students get what they want,” he replied and there was no slap from the ruler. However, in seconds I was struggling not to scream out. He had gone under me, spread my legs, and was now devouring my heat with an expert tongue. I let out a mewl of pleasure and he stopped.

“Don’t make a sound, slut, then everyone will know our secret.”

“Yes, Professor Chalamet,” I choked out. He continued to bless me with his tongue. I was nearing my orgasm. He stopped for a moment, and bit the skin of my inner thigh before returning to his task. I’m seconds I was coming undone, thighs clamping around his head with the effort not to scream.

He walked around so he was in front of me. My slick coated his face, and he wore it like a badge of honor. I was panting, sweat dripping down my temples.

“Like that did you?” He asked with a smirk.

“A+,” I gasped. He chuckled, moving so he was behind me again.

“I hope that was enough to get you ready for me,” he said.

“More than enough, please fill me,” I begged. He pressed his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushed in. I relished how long it took him to bottom out inside me.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this,” he asked as he began to snap his hips forward. I couldn’t form the words to answer. My eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“How many times I’ve wanted to cancel class and just have you in every way possible?”

I groaned, nails making marks in his wooden desk. I pressed my ass back to meet his thrusts and he let out a moan of approval.

“I know you thought the same of me. The way you’d eye fuck me from across the room was almost too much to handle. Did you go back to your dorm after and touch yourself? Did you play with your pretty pussy to the thought of me y/n?”

“Yes,” it took all I had not to scream.

“I have an alternate ending for your script,” he told me as he reached around to play with my clit. I bit down hard on my hand, it was the only way to keep silent. The only things to hear in the room was the wet sounds of us and his low, whispered, filthy words.

“What?“ I managed to asked.

“I think the Professor should fuck his naughty student, that part can stay. But I think he should fill her everyday, every free period. She should be bursting with him. She would walk around campus so full of him that it’s leaking down her thighs.”

“Fuck,” I said against my hand. I knew I would leave deep teeth marks there.

“Wouldn’t it be delicious if she got pregnant? She wouldn’t be able to tell anyone whose cum she was carrying around. No one would know who bred her cunt so well that she was completely full. She would have to keep it undercover as he filled her over and over.”

“I can’t,” I gasped, and I was tumbling into a orgasm filled with shining stars and white hot pleasure. I couldn’t contain myself and Professor Chalamet had to clap his hand over my mouth, yet he continued to rub circles on my pulsating clit

“You want my cum? Im going to fill you,” he moaned as I continued to squeeze around him. He spilled into me, rope after rope of cum pumping into me.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he pulled out. I felt some of him spill out of me onto the floor.

“You are to have tutoring session with me every day of the school week, do I make myself clear?” He demanded.

“Yes Professor Chalamet,” I said with giddy joy.

“Call me Timothée.”

[megamindsecretlair]

Thinkin' 'Bout You, Part 2

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Infidelity. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), oral (male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play and swallowing, spanking, dirty talk, degradation kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: As a sneaky link, Stunna is highly demanding of your time. He doesn't care if you get caught; when he wants you, he wants you. He pops up just as your man leaves for the day and as much as you want to resist, you can't.

Word Count: 3,749k

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 3

A/N: I planned for this being a one-shot. While I would NEVER condone cheating in real life, Stunna just screams perfect sneaky link to me. And it's rotting my brain, so enjoy back to back pieces of filth! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe

You were finally free. You loved your man to pieces, but it was rare that you got the house to yourself. Like truly to yourself where you could run around naked without fear of someone creeping up behind you. And you could watch your stories on Lifetime in peace without a certain someone making fun of you for it.

You sat on the couch in one of his T-shirts, absently folding laundry while you watched the premiere of the week. Something about an obsessed paramedic over a high school girl. Well, they were always obsessed in some kind of way.

Your mind drifted as you watched and folded, appreciating the serenity of the moment. Knocking from your back door pulled you back to conscious thought and you growled. If it was those neighbor’s kids again asking about some ball in your backyard, you were going to pop it in their little faces.

All your life growing up, you didn’t kick balls in others’ yards half as much. You knew your parents weren’t going to replace that shit. You got up, grumbling like an old lady and padded your way to your back door. 

You opened it, ready to cuss out little kids when Stunna turned and smiled at you.

“Stunna!” You yelped. You looked behind him but obviously, it was just your tiny backyard and nothing else. “What are you doing!” 

“Saw that nigga leave. We got plenty of time,” he said. He pushed into your home and you closed the door behind him. Mostly, so your neighbors wouldn’t hear you yelling. 

“Stunna, no! You cannot be here!” You yelled. Yet even as your mouth was saying no, your pussy was already growing damp just from how he was looking today. He wore a Black T-shirt and light jacket, dark jeans and boots. His grills flashed as he smiled and looked you over.

“Easy access, my favorite,” he said. He pulled you by the shirt until he could capture your lips with his own. He moaned as he collided with your lips. “Sexy ass fuckin’ lips.”

You gripped his arms, muscles flexing under your fingers. “Stunna, be for real!” You said. You were in deep shit. You promised yourself that the last time he was at your place would be the absolute last. You had cut it entirely too short, getting dicked down in the kitchen while Stunna made you his famous omelet. 

There wasn’t an inch of space in your home that you hadn’t been bent into a pretzel and it had to stop. At least here. 

Stunna’s hands ran up your thighs and you shivered as if you were freezing. Your body couldn’t feel more overheated. You were breathless already. You knew he promised untold pleasure but you were at constant war with your mind.

“Come on, babygirl. Been feenin’ for this pussy,” he said.

“You always say that, nigga,” you said. 

“And I mean it. How I’m supposed to go about my day when I’m hard as shit thinkin’ ‘bout you?” He smiled, knowing you were weak as hell for his smiles. 

You found your shoulders dipping and your body relaxing against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and breathed him in. No one smelled as good as him. The scent drove you wild, like an animal going into heat. 

You ached. And right now, only his dick would solve that particular ache. “Aight, hurry up then,” you said with a grin. 

Stunna grinned and kissed you. His hands went up further and glided across your damp panties. He growled against your lips as his hand slipped underneath your panties to play with your damp slit.

“Talkin’ all that fuckin’ shit while you wet as fuck. Take them panties off and let me see,” he said. He scooted away from you and moved you over to the kitchen table. There was nothing on there but bills, mail, some coupons and a bowl of fruit. Yet now, you had thoughts of being eaten out like a meal on that table. 

Your hands shook as you reached under your shirt and pulled down your panties, kicking them off. You lifted the shirt until it was around your hips. Stunna hissed in appreciation, light glinting off of his grills as he looked you over.

He turned you around and bent you over the table roughly, slapping your ass. “What you always fightin’ me for? Like you don’t be cravin’ this dick. I see them messages you send me,” he said. 

He bent down so your ass was in his face. He spread your asscheeks and marveled at your wet core. “Mhm, that pussy miss me, don’t she?” He asked.

You tried to remain silent. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of caving so soon. He had to earn his way in there. You should have known better.

He smacked your ass, hard, and you cried out. “I was reading a nasty book before you came over, nigga. Don’t flatter yourself,” you said. You smirked since he couldn’t see you. Stunna hated when you pretended like he wasn’t God’s gift to fucking. But that was when he blew your back out the hardest.

Without warning, he slipped two fingers inside of you. Your essence soaked his fingers and he hummed, finding you so wet. Your knees buckled.  “Ion know why you try to lie when I can feel how wet you are,” he said.

His deep, melodious voice was a physical caress all its own. It reached your ears but you felt him everywhere, all at once. He pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, torturously, and you whined, needing more stimulation. You needed more than just his fingers. 

“Use your big girl words and tell me what you want,” he said. He continued to slide his fingers in and out. He had long, thick fingers that almost did the job. Almost. Two of those weren’t nearly the size of his dick. That was what you wanted most of all.

“I need you to fuck me,” you said. You were beginning to move your hips in time with his fingers. You didn’t want it nice and slow. That wasn’t what he was here for. He was here to fuck your brains out and leave you well satisfied. 

“I’m already fucking you,” he said. You heard the grin in his voice. Bastard.

“I need you to fuck me with that dick, Daddy,” you said. You pitched your voice lower, more sultry, as you dared risk a glance behind you. He was so tall. He loomed over you with a predatory glare. 

“Was that so hard, babygirl?” He asked.

“Yes, nigga,” you said and rolled your eyes.

In all honesty, you did not expect him to smack the air from your lungs when he smacked your ass. Heat and pain blossomed on your ass and you struggled for air. You gasped, mouth open like a fish as you tried to stay standing. 

“Nasty fuckin’ mouth. C’mere since you think we playin’ games,” he said.

He pulled you by the arm to a standing position. Then he pulled you into the back bedroom and sat down on the bed. His hands flew to his pants and unzipped them. 

“Knees,” he growled. 

You dropped to your knees and planted yourself between his legs. He was so hot when he was like this. When his words were clipped, barely expending the air to get them out. Only because you weren’t a mind reader. Not yet. You weren’t sure how long this could continue, but until then, you were going to enjoy the ride.

He pushed his pants and briefs down far enough to slap your mouth with his dick. It was already leaking precum and you licked your lips as you stared at his thick head.

“Mhm, gon’ stuff that mouth since you ain’t got no manners,” he said. He pulled your head down onto his dick and moaned when your lips wrapped around him. “That’s it, like a good little bitch, huh?” 

You nodded. It was hard to fit all of him inside but he didn’t care. He continued to face fuck you. You watched his face as he did so. Jaw slack, eyes closed. You sucked harder, running your tongue over his mushroom head and tasting the precum there.

“Fuck, suck that shit,” he moaned. He cracked one eye and saw you staring at him. He grinned. “Lookin’ so fuckin’ cute with your mouth closed.” 

Your pussy clenched from the unexpected praise even though it was wrapped in such a nasty package. You got off on being his little slut. His nasty little bitch that took whatever he dished out. Took whatever he gave. Yearned for it. Thought about it. Got off to it too many times to name. 

You moaned around his dick as he pushed in deeper. Pushed past your natural resistance to take him deeper. Your hands were planted on his thighs just so he wouldn’t fuck you into the back wall, but you moved one lower to fondle his balls. 

His hips jerked and he laughed. “Oh, you want me to feed you early today I see. What was all that shit you was talkin’ earlier? Huh?”

You couldn’t talk because his dick was still in your mouth. Yet he kept talking to you as if you could respond. 

“Mouth made to take this fuckin’ dick. My god,” he moaned. His hand palmed your scalp as he pushed you up and down on his dick. Your spit and slobber ran down the length of him. He pushed you down a little too far and you gagged and choked on his dick. 

“Gotta fix that attitude with this dick, huh,” he said. He slipped out and slapped his dick on your face. On your chin, on your lips. He pushed you back down on his dick until he groaned. “Say ahh,” he said with a snicker as he busted inside of your mouth.

You greedily sucked him down. He moaned as you did so, trying to wring all of it out. Your gulps were filthy, lewd but music to his ears. He said as much as he shook his head and sighed with deep relief.

You reluctantly let his soft dick go with a final pop. He used his thumb to swipe run away cum from your mouth. He shoved his thumb inside and you sucked on that too with pleasure. Your head was pleasantly numb. You just wanted to please him in whatever form he wanted.

You liked being his stress relief. You liked that when his mind was going a mile a minute, plotting against Malcolm and this war between them, he found solace in between your thighs. 

“That’s all you needed, was something in your mouth to shut you up?” He asked. You nodded, still sucking on his thumb.

“Good. Always talkin’ shit,” he said. He got up on wobbly knees and hefted you up by placing his hands under your arms. He moved you to the bed where he flipped you onto your back and you yelped. 

Couldn’t he use his words like a big boy? Damn. Always manhandling you. But you knew better than to catch an attitude now. He was focused. And he needed no further encouragement to rock your shit. 

He fell to his knees and then opened your legs, staring at your dripping essence. He licked his lips and looked at you, before descending on your pussy. You cried out, hands flying to the back of his head.

Mercy was not in his vocabulary. His wide lips latched onto your clit and sucked hard. “Ouue shit,” you wheezed out and gyrated your hips. You tried to scoot away from him. Where did he pull this shit out from? 

He’s eaten you out, quite spectacularly before, but this was something new. This was “I haven’t seen you in a year” type of desperation.

“Fuck you going?” He asked. His speech was a little slurred as if he was getting high off of your essence. He wrapped his big hands under your knees and yanked you back to the edge of the bed. You squealed, your hands grabbing onto your bright green covers. 

One of his hands held you open while his other slipped down your folds and entered you. “Oh shit! Wait! Stunna, fuck,” you moaned.

He licked his lips while he pumped his fingers into you. Then his mouth joined in and your body was bowing off of the bed. Your whines and whimpers did not assuage him. He kept it up, licking and sucking.

He swirled his tongue around your clit until it was a swollen little bud practically reaching out for him. He slurped up your essence and moaned when more oozed out of him. He licked everywhere and then flicked his tongue against your clit.

“Shit!” You moaned as you finally came on his tongue. Your thighs snapped shut over his ears but he was undeterred. He kept licking and sucking, wet noises that flicked a switch in your brain.

You trembled and cried out, riding that orgasm like a big wave on the ocean. Your lungs burned from panting so hard. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned.

Stunna placed wet kisses to both of your thighs. He stood and leaned up so he could plant a sloppy kiss to your forehead. He ran his thumb across your lips before pulling you into a kiss. It was a slow, sensual kiss. The kind that made your toes curl. 

You were breathless by the time he pulled away. “You gon’ have to make up for that attitude, princess,” he said. 

“Wait! I’m sorry!” You whined. 

He chuckled as he shed his clothes. His shirt and jacket went flying, followed closely by his shoes, pants and briefs. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a sitting position so he could take off your shirt.

He groaned as your titties bounced. He fingered one of your nipples, tugging on it, and it had you biting your lip with pleasure. “Stunna, please!” Wasn’t the incredible orgasm enough? 

There was no way you could take him now. 

“Stunna, please!” He mocked and laughed. He climbed onto the bed and got on his back, making himself right at home as if he was your main. He patted his thighs and waved you over.

You were shaking as you climbed onto him, reverse cowgirl. There was no love in his heart or eyes as he stroked his dick through your sensitive folds. You hissed and sat up, but he pulled one of your arms to make you sit on his dick.

He nearly slammed you onto him and you cried out at the full pressure of him seated inside of you. “Fuck!” You yelled out. 

He chuckled behind you and smacked your round ass. “Don’t start crying now. I still gotta feed you,” he said.

He began to rock his hips but he smacked you for you to understand his little lesson. He wanted you to ride him. And God help you if you weren’t doing it properly. 

You placed your hands on his long legs and began to bounce on his dick, slowly. The tap, tap, tap had you seeing stars. 

“Guess you ain’t that hungry,” he said. His wet thumb encircled your ass and you flew up and off of him. You moaned at the sensation. He pressed his thumb in further, to make sure you knew who it was that was plugging you. 

“I’m sorry!” You moaned. 

“Fuck that mean to me? Move this ass,” he said and punctuated it with another smack to your ass. At this rate, you wouldn’t be able to sit down all night.

You bounced on his dick in earnest. You were a moaning, writhing mess on top of him. In this position, you felt him more intensely. You felt the slide and glide of his long dick as he fed it to you. His thumb was still in your ass and he used his other to smack your ass periodically. He just liked watching you bounce.

“That’s it. Nasty bitch,” he moaned and smacked you again. You cried out but he only answered with another smack. “I wish you could see the way you grip my shit. Creamy and nasty as fuck. All that lyin’, but yo pussy know who she belong to.”

You contracted around his dick and he moaned again. His moans were driving your pleasure through the roof. The feedback that you were doing a good job was a precious thing that you held close to your heart. 

“Ouue, fuck. Ouue fuck,” you moaned as your belly tightened. You were getting so close, he was hitting it so deep inside of you. You slid on his dick until you were leaning back and began convulsing on him.

You screamed out your pleasure, eyes tightly shut and digging your nails into his legs. Your thighs were trembling on his. Your arousal flooded his dick and he groaned from how painfully you were squeezing his dick.

He pushed his hips up and unloaded in you. The hot, wet pulses of his cum coated your insides. You moaned from the sensation of him literally pumping cum. 

“That’s it. That’s what that pussy wanted, huh?” He asked.

“Yes, baby,” you moaned. 

“Why you gotta make it difficult?” He asked. He stroked your back as you calmed down. Sweat ran down from your temples without abandon. 

“I can’t help it, baby,” you said. You slipped off of him and he groaned, watching his cum leak from your pussy. He didn’t let you go far. He immediately pulled you into cuddling with him. You sighed as you rested your head on his chest. 

“I need to clean up,” you said.

“Naw, keep it in there,” he said. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear the nigga was trying to get you pregnant. You could see it now, growing that life inside of you knowing fuck well it wasn’t your mans. You hadn’t discussed babies yet, it was too early in the relationship. You could not have a baby with your sneaky link. That went against every single rulebook out there.

“Nasty ass, no!” You said and giggled. He nuzzled your neck, licking your collarbone. His hand came up to squeeze your titty and you sighed. 

“Baby, I can’t,” you said.

“You always saying that shit and I always prove you wrong,” he said against your neck. He placed sweet kisses there, enough to make you giggle and shy away from him. 

He kissed a hot trail down your neck before he placed the same sweet kisses against your chest. He squeezed your titty until your nipple puckered and then he wrapped his warm mouth around it. You moaned. You were already fucking sore, your ass stung, and you were greedy for more.

A ringtone went off somewhere in the otherwise quiet room and you both groaned. You were always interrupted by someone calling either one of you. 

Stunna disentangled himself from you, sat on the edge of the bed and dug his phone out. “Yeah, nigga, what?” 

You tuned out his side of the conversion. You didn’t want to be involved in that world. He hung up and hung his head for a moment, before cussing under his breath. 

You got to your knees and crawled over to him, wrapping your hands around his neck. You kissed his cheek.

“What’s wrong baby?” You asked.

“Been fuckin’ dying to get over here and now I gotta go deal with some bullshit,” he said. “Man fuck!” 

You hid your grin. He was so damn insatiable. In a perfect world, you two would be together all of the time. And he would spend every moment he could buried inside of you and rearranging your guts. 

“It’s okay, I gotta clean up the mess you made now,” you said and playfully rolled your eyes. He was starting to really fuss, so you leaned over him, grabbed his chin and turned him to face you.

You planted a small kiss on his lips. “Hey, we’ll just look forward to next time,” you said.

He sighed and nodded, getting up but still cussing under his breath. You watched him throw his clothes back and was mesmerized by the simple domestic act. First his briefs that covered up his long dick. 

Then his pants. The zipper enclosed his thickness and your pussy throbbed just thinking of getting another hit of it. Next went his tank, shirt, and jacket and finally his shoes. 

“We need some rules about this, Stunna,” you said quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment but also knowing that your heart couldn’t take this extra stress. “You can’t just pop up whenever you want.”

He checked his pockets and grinned at you. Those fucking golds making your stomach do somersaults. He pulled out a wad of cash and peeled off a band for you. He kissed your forehead and placed it in your hand. “Buy yaself somethin’ cute I can rip off later,” he said.

“Stunna, I’m being serious!” 

He grinned and grabbed you by the throat. You grabbed his wrist, but he had grabbed you in the perfect spot. It made your eyes roll back and your head go numb. 

He placed a soft kiss to your lips and grinned down at you. “I can’t keep my hands off you, babygirl. It’s yo fault for havin’ such a fat, wet pussy.” He kissed you again and released your throat.

“Corny ass nigga,” you muttered. 

“What was that?” His hands flew to his pants as if he would take them right back off and dick you down again. As much as you wanted to, your body was weak. 

“Nothin’ baby, I’ll see you next time.” You made your voice super, extra sweet and he grinned.

“Fuck I thought.” With that, he was gone. You heard the back door slam again as he disappeared and fucked off down the street to his car. You could imagine that walk of his and it only made you shiver with horniness. You had to get your libido under control.

When he came around, your body had a mind of its own. And that wouldn’t do. You groaned as you pulled sheets off of the bed to wash and replace them on the bed. So much for a quiet day watching your stories.

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 3

[supercap2319]

"Wow. Now that's what I call a nice view." Y/N grinned as he entered the specialists' locker room. The male locker room Various specialists were in different states of undressing and dressing. Some were fully clothed, having just showered, and ready to return to their dorm rooms. Others were naked, half-naked, or in the process of becoming naked.

Y/N made his way further into the locker room as it smelled like sweat and guys. Some of the guys were whispering to each other about why a fairy was here. To the far left, Y/N saw Riven talking to Dane and Luke. Both Riven and Dane had fluffy white towels around their waists. Luke, on the other hand, was naked, and his frontal package was in full view.

Riven saw him looking at them and smiled as he winked with a laugh. Dane and Luke turned around and chuckled as well when they saw him ogling them. But the real prize came out of the steaming showers as the golden boy, Sky, walked out of the showers in nothing but a blue jockstrap. probably specialist issued. It outlined his cock perfectly and made it look big and tight, as it matches the color of Sky's eyes. When he saw Y/N, the specialist put a hand over his junk and blushed.

Riven, Dane, and Luke chuckled as Sky blushed. "Y/N? What are you doing in here?"

The ice fairy smiled as he got closer to the blonde specialist. "The new headmistress asked me to bring these files to Silva." He held up the files for emphasis as he walked around Sky and examined his almost naked frame. Specifically, his plum white ass in those tight straps hugging his bum "I thought I'd take a shortcut through bare-man's land." He indicated this to all the half-naked and naked specialists.

Sky flushed again as he tried to compose himself. "Right. So, I assume you'll want to get there? Bye." He tried to walk away, but suddenly he gasped as he felt like someone was touching his cock through his pouch and felt like fingers were in his asshole. He moaned softly as he turned around and saw Y/N looking at him with eyes flashing bluish-purple. "What are you doing?" Sky tried not to moan as the other specialists behind him chuckled at what was happening between him and the fairy.

"A trick I learned from Rosalind I'm helping you out. I'm sure you need to unwind after such a hard practice. A guy needs to take a load off. Blow his load."

"Y/N, please?" Sky begged. The invisible hands were all over his body, and he was panting with desire.

"I'll stop. But you have to fuck me. Deal?" Y/N told him, increasing the power of telekinesis Rosalind had taught him as Sky moaned loudly, catching the attention of the entire locker room.

Sky nods. "Deal! I'll fuck you. Just please stop this."

Y/N's eyes went back to normal as he smiled at the young man. "Excellent. Let's get started then." He opened his pants and dropped them around his ankles in front of the Specialist boys.

[lucky-punk-lemonade]

| Death of a Bachelor

[smut MDNI 18+; 1k words] coworker!Mitch Rapp who Needs This™ (it’s been too long)

“Look, I really need this.” Mitch looked up at you from his position seated on the edge of the bed. His hair had fallen down and his eyes sparkled pathetically underneath the mess. His mouth was open and his tongue distractedly lined the edges of his front teeth. Other than that, his shoulders rose and fell with each breath. He was right.

When you stepped closer, his hands magnetized to you as if your skin was a texture he’d never felt before in his life. He kept his face stoic, as if he had to think through the gravity of his choices like he always did. In the end, the decision was like sleep to the freezing. “I need this.”

He didn’t just need it, he needed it how only you could give it to him. Gentle and sweet like how you handed him files and coffee and pats on the back after returning from the field. He always wanted to see those curious eyes find out what he’d let you do to him.

Those hands, with the second fastest words per minute in your department. He wanted them in his hair. In his mouth so he didn’t embarrass himself, that’s why he was always so silent with you. Even in a blossoming friendship, his affinity for curt nods and responses with a strict maximum word count remained. You cracked his shell more than you could tell, but he was too disciplined of a man for him to show. That was a trait he’d dreamed of letting loose, even for ten fucking minutes. Your emails, which you so openly hated sending, were clever and funny and he wanted to hear what you’d come up with when you saw how he’d undoubtedly crumble at your touch. He’d imagined this and, though he’d like to say otherwise, he knew. If he ever had a chance with you, it’d be embarrassing and messy and needy. But it would be exactly what he needed.

He took your hand in his, cradled it in his palm, and brought it up to cup his face. “Just touch me.”

Guiding him to the headboard, lying against the pillows, he looked as if he passed out when you sat yourself on his lap. He was already hard, his hands grabbing your hips to try and keep you from noticing. His hands got distracted when you kissed him, shooting you to hold your head and pull your face further into his. Everything was so, so much. Your weight on his lap, your lips, the warmth you were providing physically and figuratively. He hadn’t had an actual, real, warm body in his lap for a very long time. And before he could move to kiss your neck, your hips rolled forward, deeper into his lap, and your hands finally touched down exactly where he wanted them. His head tilted back and he groaned.

It was inevitable and he was grateful. Begging, rambling in that sweet, raspy voice of his. Nodding up at you, “Just like that. Fuck me. Yeah, fuck- please.”

Your hips rolled back and forth, up and down, and he swore his eyesight went blurry around the edges when you clenched around him and circled your hips again. When you saw his fists clenched, you unfurled them and encouraged him to hold your hands.

“Like this?” your eyes scanned him as if you were realizing how much he liked this. “Big, strong field agent.”

Out of breath and gaining confidence, hand lacing its way up the nape of his neck, “You need this, don’t you?”

Moans so satisfying, you opened your mouth, too. Twirling his hair in your fingers, you brought yourself up and sunk back down onto him slowly, eyes fluttering at how he twitched.

“Y’re just so sweet…wanted it so bad. Wanted it how you do it.” He explained as you brushed his hair out of his face. You took to kissing his neck, leaning down at the same time to gain the support you needed you really ride him how you wished you could after seeing him come into the office with a patched up nose or cheek, wishing you could see him all bloody and sweaty and have him fuck you like that. The thought made you tug softly at his hair.

“I’d have let you take it. Look at you, asking nicely.” Your hands braced on his chest, Mitch stared up at you with the most pitiful, needy expression. He wanted to agree, to tell you how easy he was for you. How he’d do anything for you if it meant you would end up staring at him, eyes fluttering, sinking down on his cock at whatever pace you wanted. Mumbling, now, he told you how close he was and you believed him. Your steady movements were shunted as he jerked his hips up to meet yours. However tired you were getting, the unbelievable things coming out of the most reserved man in your field station kept you going. “I know you’re pent up, I know. Gonna let you fuck me next time, sweet boy. Can you do that?”

He nodded attentively as your head lolled forward. “I can do that. Tell…tell me to do something. Just tell me what to do, I’ll do it.”

“Yeah? Can you please-“

Mitch grabbed your hand and brought it up to feel his lips, the air leaving from them quickly, “Don’t be nice. I’ll be good, just tell me to be.”

You smiled softly down at him, eyebrows furrowing as you rolled your hips forward again, and took on a firmer tone. “Be good and quiet for me when you cum, Rapp.”

He smiled just wide enough for his teeth to show, but the expression was made serious in an almost sarcastic way. Mitch looked up at you with a half-lidded eyes and nodded dutifully, extending two of your fingers and sliding them into his mouth to keep himself quiet. He could feel himself tensing, the warmth rising, the frantic desperation, and he was gonna moan loudly around your pretty fingers when he finished.

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for my 1.5k follower celebration, I hope you like it!

It is a Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x gn!reader blurb, requested by @shanimallina87.

Thank you @famfan-1034 for proofreading!

The prompt requested is: one person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

Warnings: none

You had been working for Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson for years and had to do with a lot of bashful and attractive aviators, but when you met Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin everyone else faded into being background characters.

Jake was the perfect guy, he was handsome, charming and caring, at least when it came to you.

When his group of pilots and WSOs arrived at TOPGUN for the special mission you were mesmerized by Jake.

Everyone’s files had already gone over your desk and you had seen his picture already, dashing and Ken-like features staring back at you that had heat rush in your cheeks immediately.

When you saw him in real life the heat was only stronger, but everyone with eyes could see that he was similarly stricken by you.

While he was usually quick-witted and sharp-tongued he was gentle with you, not bothering you too much but also keeping his attention mostly on you.

It was unsettling for you because you were scared that Cyclone would notice and punish you for showing interest in someone at your imminent workspace.

Jake seemed to understand that without having to talk about it because while there was an unmistakable tension between you neither of you acted on it.

You were surprised that the reluctance to act on your feelings held until the day before he had to leave for the mission.

It was a rather quiet day on base with Cyclone out to talk to Warlock about one or the other detail of the mission.

You were left on your own at your desk with the aviators including Maverick in the next room, until a knock sounded and Jake entered your office.

He was less boastful than with the other pilots, you could even see it in the way he held himself, careful and focused on your well-being.

Nevertheless a flirty yet slightly refined smile ghosted over his lips.

“I wanted to say goodbye to you in private, before we leave,” he said as he moved closer towards you and into the room.

You replied with a grateful smile as you got up and rounded the corner of your desk to stand in front of him.

“I hope you’ll come back,” you said softly, and earned a wordless and melancholic chuckle from Jake.

“I’d like you to,” you added breathlessly, and the chuckle turned into an honest smile.

Jake stepped a step closer and you held your breath, feeling the warmth of his body radiate as he was so close to you.

Jake’s gaze fell from your eyes to your lips and he reached his hand out to hold your jaw, stretching his thumb out to trace your lips in a ghosting touch that sent a rush of shivers down your spine.

“I’d like to come back to you,” he breathed rather than that he said it, and knowing that he was as nervous as you only made you want him more.

Your chin tilted up on its own and your eyes fell to his lips as well, your eyelids fluttering in anticipation.

When Jake finally lowered his lips to your own a small moan left your mouth, which Jake ate up immediately.

He moaned as well and moved his other hand to your hip, pulling you closer towards him to feel your body against his.

When you pulled away both of you were smiling widely and Jake’s hand moved to caress your cheek, holding you gently and lovingly in anticipation of your relationship to come.

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[kny-agere]

So I saw you and you petreg post and I just wanted to know if you’d be able to mouse regressor Zenitsu with caregiver Tengen? I don’t mind if it’s a Drabble or just headcanons, I also don’t mind if you don’t want to! Thank you in advance:D

Ahhh im so sleepy rn.,,, sud head canons. I jope these are ok bc my eyes hurt now and im goingk yo bed

★彡☆彡★彡

- I think Zenitsu fits a mouse well!

- He enjoys getting “pet” less and prefers the small quick scratches

- Well he enjoys real petting too but gets embarrassed quickly

- A lot of his mouselike behavior is just him getting embarassed really fast and wanting to hide away

- Too be honest I think Tengen scares Zenitsu a lot because the man is not patient and doesn’t like luring him out carefully

- What does work is playing the “ignore Zenitsu” game until he eventually crawls over to wherever Uzui is

- Especially if Uzui is eating

- Zenitsu likes to steal food off of Tengen’s plate and it’s the only time he doesn’t care if he gets yelled at

- He likes crackers or riceballs, things he can eat with his hands

- At the same time he hates being messy so he eats very slowly and carefully

- Going back to his shyness sorry lol

- Zenitsu does not like regressing around others

- I imagine even regressing around Uzui started out as an accident

- Probably got “bullied” into regressing more because Tengen can see how stressed Zenitsu is and knows it affects him badly

- Zenitsu does want to be coddled when he age regresses but when mouse regressing he enjoys subtler affection and pampering

- Which is good because Tengen is soft without being *too* attentive

- They just enjoy existing in a space together

- He absolutely adores the actual mice

- Hides them in his pockets and sneaks them treats

- In turn the mice sneak Zenitsu treats too (especially if he’s in trouble)

- He’s a little more mischievous when regressed because he knows Uzui won’t punish him harshly

- The only punishment that gets him really upset is when Tengen puts his mice away

- If Uzui makes fun of Zenitsu’s overbite he gets bitten

- A very small friendly bite but Tengen loves to overreact and moan and whine

- Zenitsu ends up feeling awful each time and either ends up crying or head-butting the man until he gets attention

- The boy doesn’t like to crawl, instead shuffling around kind of hunched over

- He doesn’t like sitting on the floor either

- Very concerned about cleanliness

- Another reason he prefers not to be around other regressors… even Tanjiro is a bit “gross” at times

- That means baths are a very good activity

- Well actually Zenitsu likes to sit in the water but he hates being scrubbed down

- Once Tengen pulls out the loofa he squeals and tries to climb out

- Zenitsu also has an awful habit of chewing his nails so Uzui takes care of those too

- Another thing he hates

- He has a hard time sitting still and insists the filing sounds hurt his ears

[missvelvetsstuff]

Guarded Heart

Bucky Barnes x Reader

MobAu

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a powerful mob boss who only cares about her horses and making it to the Olympics but her father expects her to marry an equally powerful boss to help strengthen his business. Bucky is looking for a wife to help his business but already has a long term girlfriend, Natasha.

Chapter 17

Warnings: swearing, angst

Bucky felt his heart breaking for Y/N as he gently picked her up bridal style and took her to his car. She grumbled groggily when he set her down in the back seat.

"What happened?"

Bucky made sure her seat belt was fastened, then went around to sit next to her.

"You fainted doll. Are you going to be alright? We planned on going to the wake at Loki's house but we don't have to go if you aren't up for it."

She shook her head sadly "No, I need to at least go for a bit. I didn't speak to his parents at all while we were at the cemetery." She stared out the window as Steve drove to Loki's.

"It still doesn't feel real. I don't know how to process everything that's happened the last few months. Clints betrayal, my father's death, my arm, Sif" she paused then whispered "Thor." She sighed sadly "I'm starting to think I'm cursed. Maybe I'm meant to be alone."

Bucky shook his head "No sweetheart, I know it feels like it but it will get better. Then worse, then better, up and down. Life is fucked like that.

Besides you can't be alone, you're stuck with me and reaffirmed it in front of everyone so I ain't going anywhere."

A small grin appeared on her face as she chuckled softly.

"Jesus Barnes, are you trying to depress her more?" Sam cracked from the front seat.

Bucky glared at Sam as Steve cackled at his comments. "Some friends you two are."

Steve looked at him earnestly "That hurts, Buck. We're your brothers" he proclaimed and Sam started laughing as Steve finished "It's our sworn duty to fuck with you any time possible."

Y/N laughed out loud before she could cover her mouth, eyes twinkling at Bucky.

He crossed his arms and grumbled "So now all three of you are gonna gang up on me? That's some bullshit."

Y/N reached out to caress his face, ran her fingers through his hair before pulling on it, hard "That's what family does, Jamie."

Bucky tried to stifle the moan that escaped but she heard it and raised her eyebrow at him. He blushed and shrugged his shoulders while she filed that tidbit away for future reference.

Her smile fell and she felt the pain in her chest again as they pulled up to Loki's house, people dressed in black walking up to the front door.

Bucky took her hand and helped her out of the car, walking her up the driveway as Steve went to find a parking place.

As soon as they entered Loki swooped in and gave her a tight hug, long enough they stood and cried on each other's shoulders.

Loki pulled back and looked at her. "You know he loved you more than anything. He would have dealt with being pulled back into the life if he had you by his side."

Y/N nodded "I know but I know how he hated it, how hard he worked to get away and the fights with Odin over his refusal to take over your family. I could never have asked him to do that." Her voice cracked "I'm so grateful for the time we did have but it's my fault he's gone and I don't know how to live with that."

Loki shook his head "No, love, It isn't your fault and he wouldn't want you blaming yourself. He had no hesitation when he told me he would die for you. I just hoped it would never come to this point."

Thor's mother, Frigga, interrupted them "Y/N dear child, are you alright? We saw you at the cemetery but there were so many people." She hugged her, then pulled back to look at her "You look tired child, when was the last time you ate a decent meal? Come, there is an abundance of food." She took her hand and pulled her towards the kitchen.

Y/N tried to protest but Frigga shushed her "Thor would want you taken care of and I'll do it if you can't right now."

She waved her hand around the kitchen, counters that were covered with dishes of food. "You know where everything is" she hugged her again "I have more people to greet but will find you soon. Make a plate and find a place to sit and eat."

Y/N made herself a plate, another simple act that was now 100 times more difficult with only one arm, and looked for a quiet place to sit which she found in the library. It only took two trips to take her drink and her food there. She curled up in an oversruffed leather chair, putting the plate in her lap and forced herself to eat. She tried not to get frustrated at how difficult it all was to accomplish now.

It didn't take Bucky long to find her "Hey Doll. You alright?"

She shrugged "I'm still alive, haven't broken down and am eating. I think that's as good as it will get right now."

They heard the doorbell but were surprised at how quiet the house became after they heard the door open. That couldn't be good.

Bucky looked at her "Stay here doll, I'll be right back." And reached for his gun. She looked at him concerned and he smiled softly and left the room.

It was quiet for a moment which made Y/N nervous. Then she heard shouting and Loki's raised voice and couldn't just sit there anymore.

When she made it to the living room, she wished she had stayed in the den.

Standing in the entry with a disgusting grin on his face was Baron Helmut Zemo. He smiled wider when he saw her.

"There you are my dear. I came to see how you were handling your lovers death. I've been so worried about you and wanted to offer my condolences."

Y/N's eyes grew wide at the sight of her ex fiance. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here Zemo. Everyone here knows of your involvement with Pierce and Dreykov, which makes you complicit in Thor's murder."

Zemo chuckled "Perhaps but they also know of the rules regarding funerals and are all far too honorable to break them. I just wanted to see you, darling. And let you know that this is not over. You are safe right here and right now because you are surrounded by your allies but it won't always be that way. I'm a patient man and I don't give up what is mine." he walked up and kissed her cheek before she could pull away. "You are mine and I will have you back. Your new fiance will be in the ground and you will be by my side and in my bed." He turned to leave "I'll see you soon, my love. And you too Sargeant Barnes." And quickly left.

Y/N was in shock. As if this hadn't become enough of a nightmare, she still had to deal with him.

After Zemo left, the room burst into tense discussions with some shouting thrown in.

Loki was furious, "How dare that bastard show his face here, today. I've half a mind to break that rule and-"

Frigga cut him off "I know Zemo needs to be handled but our family has honor and will not lower ourselves to his level. Besides that, Zemo is no fool. You know he has people right outside, waiting for one of us to come after him."

Loki looked down "I know mother, he just infuriates me. Tomorrow we will work on a plan to dispose of him and any of his associates we can identify."

Frigga hugged her remaining son "We will unleash the fury of the Gods on him."

Yelena appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "I know where to start looking for his base and who he is probably working with."

Loki nodded "Tomorrow we shall meet, breakfast, early, here. Let this be the last we speak of him today."

Y/N was still standing in the middle of the room, seemingly in a daze as Bucky approached her "Y/N? Doll? Are you alright?" She looked at him and shrugged. He put his arms around her and whispered in her ear "Zemo won't get anywhere near you. I promise I will protect you with my life if necessary."

She shook her head "My life isn't worth anything anymore. I'm beginning to wonder if I should just go back to him so the rest of you can go on with your lives."

Bucky gently grabbed her chin and pulled her to face him. "No, Y/N, that's not acceptable to me. You are worth so much to so many people who will protect and defend you whether you want us to or not. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me?"

He saw her eyes filling up with tears "You're my family now and I don't want to hear that kind of talk. Ok?"

She nodded even though she still felt cursed and spoke in a small voice. "Can we go home now?"

Bucky kissed the top of her head "Of course. I'll let Loki know we're going, I'm sure he'll understand." He found an open chair and sat her down "Stay right here and I'll be back in a minute."

Bucky found Steve in a corner with Loki and rolled his eyes "Come on, jerk. Y/N is ready to go."

He turned to Loki "I'm going to take care of her tonight. Did I hear you say we were meeting for breakfast?"

Loki nodded, Bucky shook his hand. "We'll see you then. I'll try to convince Y/N to stay home, she's drained physically and emotionally."

Bucky went to get Y/N and Sam, giving Steve a moment to give Loki a kiss on the cheek before he headed to get the car.

Y/N was quiet on the way home and quickly showered and changed into her pajamas with her mothers help.

When Bucky came into his room to kiss her goodnight Y/N looked up at him sadly "Can you stay with me, Jamie? I don't want to be alone"

@bigphattygyal @cjand10 @lokiandbuckysdoll @kimomoraba @avery199 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @esposadomd @sebsgirl71479

Bucky nodded "I can't say no to you, doll." And stripped down to a t-shirt and boxer briefs, climbing under the blankets to spoon her as she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 18

[starlightsuffered]

Professor Chalamet

Pairing - Timothée Chalamet/Fem!Reader

Warnings - Teacher and student (duh), oral (male and female receiving), secret relationship, spanking, name calling, needing to be quiet. Unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk

"That is the meaning behind the character of Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, you are dismissed," Professor Chalamet said.

"Except for you Y/N," he called to me. I gulped. Was today finally the day that he picked up on the not so subtle hints l'd been dropping?

Drama 101 had been interesting since the first morning | walked in, and saw Professor Chalamet. He was gorgeous. Piercing hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, decadent curly hair. I was in heaven. I felt very happy that I'd arrived early out of anxiety. The two of us had, had a very nice conversation. Since then I'd made the very pornoesque decision, to get his attention.

He was just so damn stoic and calm. It seemed like nothing phased him. He never reacted. The semester was almost over, and I had no idea if I'd seen him again. I had to make a bold move. Our final was turning in a script for a short film. Our rough drafts had been due last week. I'd handed him "The Professor's Secret." A story about a Professor fucking his student. I'd even been so courageous as to name the Professor, Professor Chardonnay.

I was shaking with anticipation as I approached his desk. Students filed out of the classroom, giving me pitying looks. They didn't understand this was all I wanted. I shivered as I remembered the door locked itself when you went out.

"Y/n," Professor Chalamet called my attention back to him. I walked slowly to his desk. I made sure to swish my hips slightly. I was wearing a tiny, pink, skater skirt, and a white button down. I had dressed up just for him, and I desperately wanted him to know it.

"What is this?" He asked calmly, holding up my script.

"My rough draft sir," I said politely. He ran a hand over his face, and when I looked at him again, I was shocked.

The anger on his face was real and cold. Usually, he was all smiles and gentle words. This was different.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" He asked menacingly. This was going wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He was truly angry. What would he do? Would he tell the school board? Would I get kicked out? Fuck, why did I let my pussy do all the thinking? Now there's going to be a Fox News segment about me.

"Can you even comprehend how many times l've read this? How I've poured over it? I've cum so many times from this alone, it is haunting me," he explained desperately. My world was spinning at hearing him talk like this.

Thinking of him cumming to just my writing was mesmerizing. Imagine what I could do to him with my real self.

"What are you saying Professor?" | asked coyly as I walked closer to him slowly.

"Do you know how many papers I've neglected, to read this again and again?" He growled.

"Maybe you should punish me," I suggested.

He looked at me for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained look.

"I've tried my damndest this semester to not give into carnal pleasures. My resistance is reaching it breaking point."

"What if I want it to break?" I asked. I slowly, slowly, lowered myself to my knees in from of him. "What if I want to help it break."

or brother."

"Holy Hell," he gasped. "You can't tell anyone about this, not anyone you understand? Not a friend, not a sister

"Oh stop," I said squeezing his package. He shakily reached out to grab his desk.

"I want this as much as you do, why would I ruin the fun?"

He nodded, and unzippered his pants for me. My eyes bulged at his impressive length, and my mouth was watering. I took him in as far as I could go. I moaned as I felt his hand pulling on my hair. I sucked at him, moving up and down his cock. My spit was dripping down my chin, and onto the floor, but I wanted so badly to be good for him.

"Off," he commanded, and I whined as he removed his cock from me.

I stood up and he kissed me roughly, hands massaging my breasts that were still clothed. One of his hands went down to grab handfuls of my ass.

"Do you wear those slutty little outfits for me everyday?" He asked, after he'd pulled away.

"Yes, for you, all for you."

"So, you're just fine with distracting your Professor, while he's trying to make a living," he growled.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"You little minx," he pushed me away from him. He cleared a section of him desk, and pushed me down on it. He pushed up my skirt, and pulled down my thong. He hissed as he saw the wet patch he'd made me create.

"I'm getting my ruler, you stay there," he demanded. I did as I was told, lightly rubbing my thighs together for some sort of friction.

I heard the slap of the ruler on his hand as he approached me. I shivered with anticipation.

"You deserve punishment. Only bad girls rile up their professors in class, only bad girls write such filthy scripts."

A smack came down on my ass and I stifled a cry. He instantly was massaging the red skin.

"Were you worried I wasn't noticing the way you whored yourself out to me every class?"

Smack! Another blow had landed on my ass. I was loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Please Professor, may I have another?" I asked desperately.

"No, only good students get what they want," he replied and there was no slap from the ruler. However, in seconds I was struggling not to scream out. He had gone under me, spread my legs, and was now devouring my heat with an expert tongue. I let out a mewl of pleasure and he stopped.

"Don't make a sound, slut, then everyone will know our secret."

"Yes, Professor Chalamet," | choked out. He continued to bless me with his tongue. I was nearing my orgasm. He stopped for a moment, and bit the skin of my inner thigh before returning to his task. I'm seconds I was coming undone, thighs clamping around his head with the effort not to scream.

He walked around so he was in front of me. My slick coated his face, and he wore it like a badge of honor. I was panting, sweat dripping down my temples.

"Like that did you?" He asked with a smirk.

"A+," | gasped. He chuckled, moving so he was behind me again.

"I hope that was enough to get you ready for me," he said.

"More than enough, please fill me," | begged. He pressed his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushed in. I relished how long it took him to bottom out inside me.

"Do you know how long l've imagined this" he asked as he began to snap his hips forward. I couldn't form the words to answer. My eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

"How many times l've wanted to cancel class and just have you in every way possible?"

I groaned, nails making marks in his wooden desk. I pressed my ass back to meet his thrusts and he let out a moan of approval.

"I know you thought the same of me. The way you'd eye fuck me from across the room was almost too much to handle. Did you go back to your dorm after and touch yourself? Did you play with your pretty pussy to the thought of me y/n?"

"Yes," it took all I had not to scream.

"I have an alternate ending for your script," he told me as he reached around to play with my clit. I bit down hard on my hand, it was the only way to keep silent. The only things to hear in the room was the wet sounds of us and his low, whispered, filthy words.

"What?" I managed to asked.

"I think the Professor should fuck his naughty student, that part can stay. But I think he should fill her everyday, every free period. She should be bursting with him. She would walk around campus so full of him that it's leaking down her thighs."

"Fuck," I said against my hand. I knew I would leave deep teeth marks there.

"Wouldn't it be delicious if she got pregnant? She wouldn't be able to tell anyone whose cum she was carrying around. No one would know who bred her cunt so well that she was completely full. She would have to keep it undercover as he filled her over and over."

"I can't," I gasped, and I was tumbling into a orgasm filled with shining stars and white hot pleasure. I couldn't contain myself and Professor Chalamet had to clap his hand over my mouth, yet he continued to rub circles on my pulsating clit.

"You want my cum? Im going to fill you," he moaned as I continued to squeeze around him. He spilled into me, rope after rope of cum pumping into me.

"Fuck," he said under his breath as he pulled out. I felt some of him spill out of me onto the floor.

"You are to have tutoring session with me every day of the school week, do I make myself clear?" He demanded.

"Yes Professor Chalamet," I said with giddy joy.

"Call me Timothée."

[sugarpopss]

Lee Bodecker Blurb

So......I've been talking about Lee a lot with @bucknastysbabe which of course means I pooped out something kind of horny. Imagine he and Florence get a nasty divorce at some, feel how plausible that is, then come back to this. Also kind of some kink discovery but Lee is such a good vessel for feedism yknow

Lee had a routine. He got off patrol, drove forty minutes out to the cabin on the far side of the county, and ate a somewhat miserable dinner while ‘I’ve Got a Secret’ or ‘The Price is Right’ droned on in front of him, driving the stale silence into the corners for a little bit.

Sometimes he stopped at the diner in Meade for food that was more salt and bacon grease than real ingredients, ordered in a quantity that made the teenage girl working the register raise her eyebrows; sometimes he exercised the full extent of his cooking skills and put a TV dinner in the oven. Either way, he parked his ass on the sofa, let the sound of the television fill his head and ate his dinner in a scene that would not be out of place in the 1963 edition of ‘Pathetic Divorcees 12 Month Calendar’. 

Most nights, in an astounding display of disregard for personal dignity, Lee jerked off after eating. Sometimes he focused on the television and let Betsy Palmer float into his imagination, leaving the panel behind to show Lee what was under her tight little skirt. Other times he thought of his ex-wife, saw her chocolate dark hair and recalled the feeling of her breasts in his hands, how she’d tip her head back with pitchy moans when their sex was good. The only downside was that that usually led him into thinking about how nights like that had dwindled as he spent more time working-because to Lee, being on patrol or filing paperwork or meeting with Leroy all fell under the umbrella of ‘work’, at least for his purposes-how, coming up on the day Florence had served him the divorce papers, even their coupling became cold and distant and quiet, usually ending in yelling or tears if not both. 

Thinking about that made Lee feel like shit. 

The masturbation fodder Lee liked the best, though-or maybe just what he felt the least amount of guilt over-was the feeling of his own gut, packed with fatty diner food or ice cream and Nabisco cookies, skin warm from the stretch and stomach slightly aching as it tried churn through everything inside. He preferred not to dwell on why that feeling got him so absurdly hard-why palming his swollen belly made his cock leak like an old faucet. 

In any case, masturbation was the third part of Lee’s routine. The fourth part was really playing the washed up cop and passing out under the fog of a full stomach and an orgasm. At a different time he would’ve polished off the image with a couple of beers, something to add to both the haze in his mind and the bloat in his stomach, but. Well. He was trying, as pathetic as it sounded. 

As pathetic as ‘trying’ seemed to be, seeing as he still ended up conked out on the sofa, television illuminating how his undershirt was slowly creeping up over the curve of his gut like some slovenly sitcom husband. Except, that is, for the nights when Lee had the post-nut wherewithal and motivation to actually get into bed. It was actually a little bit sad how quickly he’d adjusted to sleeping alone. There was something almost reassuring about getting into a cold bed, as opposed to one warmed by a body that he knew has been waiting for hours; there was no one to disappoint or fight with or lie to in a cold bed, although Lee had done all three quite liberally throughout his marriage and didn’t feel so much guilt that he’d take them back, given the opportunity. He certainly wouldn’t give up what they’d gotten him…but it still felt safer to be alone. 

Besides, the warmth and weight of his packed gut was a close enough substitute for the comfort of a woman, the grip of his own callused fist a workable approximation of the tight, wet heat of a cunt. Shocking as it may be, there wasn’t a line of women out the front door of the creaky old cabin with one working sink and raccoons in the attic-but even those traits were probably a better draw than Lee himself. 

It didn’t matter. He was just alright by himself-it seemed like exactly the way he was meant to be. 

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 1: Sanguine.

Read on Ao3; tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

But first, a word from the author. I first wrote this fic when I was about 14, circa late 2000. It was very much a product of its time, both of who I was/how I wrote then, and where the respective shows were in their runs. I found it recently in an archive I will NOT share, and was stunned to find that it actually did have some good bones--and, as is to be expected, plenty of cringe, but I try to look on my past self with indulgence and sympathy in that regard; we are, all of us, unfortunately fourteen at some point. There were even a few beautiful lines in there that I lifted entirely. I don't think I've ever gone 20+ years between a first and second draft, but here we are, in 2023, and I am back on my XF/BTVS brainrot for a second pass (and third, and fourth, as editing commands me). This fic takes place in late season 7 of the X-Files, post-Hollywood AD; and season 5 of Buffy, post-Intervention. Do those seasons line up at all? Nope. But let's be real, neither show was all that great at keeping consistent timelines. Besides, time is an illusion and canon is a sandbox; if we're not going to play, what's the point? As for how a crossover like this works when there are references to one work within the other work? Short answer: Don't worry about it. Long answer: I have lost my mind and you can see my spiral into madness here (contains a few minor spoilers/background info for this fic)

Fic is COMPLETE and will be updated Sundays and Wednesdays.

Scully unlocked the door to room 217 of the Sunnydale Motor Inn and slipped inside, hoping the brief spill of buttery sunlight wouldn’t disturb the occupant. The soft snick of the door plunged her into sudden darkness, but her eyes adjusted quickly; she was getting used to the dark. Inside, little light pierced the drawn curtains, and what did filter through was stained a deep crimson, as if a haze of blood hung in the air.

She eased herself down onto the edge of the rumpled bed that filled half the room and prodded the lump of blankets she assumed was her partner. The lump moaned and shifted, and from the opposite end, Mulder’s tousled head appeared. A shock pierced through her when she saw how pale he had become, how dark the circles were under his eyes; she tried not to think about how he had been sleeping upside down, like a bat. He would only tease her for the comparison. “How are you feeling?” she asked softly, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt.

He groaned, his voice barely more than a croak. “Half dead.”

She lifted one auburn brow and tried to smile. “Oh good, only half.”

Mulder sat up stiffly, his bones creaking and popping like the hinges of a haunted house. The sheets fell away from his bare chest, now a sickly white instead of his usual golden tan. He shoved a pillow behind his back to prop himself up, as if the effort of sitting was too much for his withering body. His eyes narrowed into tiny slits and he winced. “Isn’t it a little bright in here?”

“Mulder, I can barely see you.”

“Oh. Right.”

Something shameful flickered in his eyes and she reached out to take his hand; his skin was dry and frighteningly cold, the bones beneath it not quite right. She pushed the fear down with a thick swallow. “Don’t worry about it. The sun will be down in an hour or so.”

They relied so much on touch to communicate these days. A subtle brush of fingers to say I am here. The pressure of his hand on the small of her back, We’ll be alright. A tear thumbed away from a cheek, Your pain is mine too. A kiss pressed tenderly to a forehead, We’re not done yet.

Touching him was different now. Strained. Stained. Death lived in his skin; it was a void she had to force herself across with every caress, because each time she touched him, she was reminded of what lived inside him. 

What it had tried, gleefully, to do.

Her memories of that night in the graveyard were murky at best, flashes of blood and terror glimpsed only through a dense fog like a stormy night at a drive-in, and it was a relief to her that she was spared the worst details. Her body was healing, and though she knew that repressing emotional trauma was an unhealthy coping mechanism, it was the only thing allowing her to function. The reckoning was coming for her, sure as the sun outside was edging toward the horizon; when the darkness came, it would swallow her whole, just as it was trying, now, to swallow her partner.

The darkness was inside him, a part of him, and she could not touch one without wanting to recoil from the other. She hated the relief that filled her as she released his hand to reach into the paper bag she had brought inside with her. “I got you something to eat.”

His eyes lit up as they landed on the small styrofoam container, the kind usually filled with soup or pasta salad to-go, with the name of a local butcher on the side: Sunnydale Fine Meats. Its logo was a cartoon pig holding up a link of sausage speared on a fork, the little speech bubble near his mouth proclaiming it both local and delicious. Scully found the image horribly macabre. “Beef or pork?” Mulder asked, taking it eagerly from her hands and giving it an appraising sniff.

“Lamb,” she said, and when he wrinkled his nose, “Sorry. It was all they had left.”

“Don’t worry about it, Scully. I imagine it’s a popular take-out spot in this town.” He squeezed her shoulder gently, and she fought not to pull away from the chill of his touch. “Thank you. For all of this.”

He stood slowly, accompanied by another symphony of popping joints. He tightened the drawstring on his sweatpants—when had he gotten so thin?—and carried the container to the microwave in the room’s tiny kitchenette. Her stomach lurched as she realized he was heating the contents. Ninety-eight point six.

Mulder glanced up and saw her staring, then looked quickly away. “Tip from Spike,” he muttered. “Says it’s easier to… get it down… this way. That I’ll get used to it faster if it’s warm.”

“Is it really that bad, compared to..?”

A shudder passed through his body, but not of revulsion. She shouldn’t have reminded him about that, but he answered anyway. “It’s like day-old coffee versus a chocolate shake. With whipped cream. And extra cherries.” His voice dripped with a hunger bordering on lust. “I can handle it, but I’d rather have… well.”

Compassion and pity warred with a visceral disgust and the sudden roiling in her gut pushed her to feet. She couldn’t watch this.

“I’ll let you eat,” she said, too fast, nearly lunging for the door. Stupid, she yelled at herself the moment she realized what she was doing. Don’t give him anything to chase. Not when he’s hungry.

His hand clenched painfully tight around her wrist before she even heard him move, and her heart started to hammer beneath her sternum. She knew he could hear it, watched his pupils dilate as the sound reached him, and his gaze fell on the pulse fluttering in her throat.

The dark centers of his eyes grew inhumanly huge, nearly eclipsing the warm golden green, and his tongue flicked out to lick his lower lip.

Scully stood very, very still.

Her blue eyes were cold and hard as she met his stare. Do not flinch.

“Mulder,” she said carefully, threading steel into her voice. “Let me go.”

He held on, breathing harder than he had any need to, nostrils flaring as he took in the coppery scent of her fear, fingers constricting so tightly she felt the fine bones of her wrist grinding together and the tingling static of the circulation failing in her fingertips. She would have a new bracelet of bruises tomorrow. A sound between a moan and a growl bubbled up from his throat.

Scully’s free hand began to inch toward the chain around her neck when suddenly the microwave beeped from across the room, breaking the tension like a splash of cold water. He stepped quickly away and turned his back to her, shoulders hunched and shaking.

“God, Scully, I am so sorry.”

If her hand trembled as she laid it on his back, they both ignored it. “I know, Mulder. It’s okay. I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he said gently, his voice choked and breaking. “And I’m glad you don’t.”

She forced herself to move closer, to cross the death-black void that had bloomed between them; the fear she felt was a small price to pay to erase the pain written so clearly across his face. She wrapped her arms around his abdomen and laid her cheek against the icy expanse of his back. He flinched as the tiny gold cross on her necklace made contact with his skin; she pulled away just enough to tuck it into her shirt, then squeezed him even tighter. “You’re so warm,” he murmured, placing one hand over hers where it rested against his stomach. “It’s so nice to feel warm again.”

Her throat constricted painfully as she fought away the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, and it was a long while before she trusted herself to speak. Her voice came out small, empty of anything but helpless fear. “What are we going to do?”

He sighed and rolled his gaze heavenward. There were water spots on the ceiling. “Shoot me?”

“Yeah, a lot of good that would do.”

Mulder huffed out a barbed little laugh and turned within the circle of her arms. His hands came up to cup her face, and the defeat in his eyes nearly broke her heart. A single tear slid down his ashen cheek, glinting red in the fading light. Red as blood.

“I’m scared, Scully,” he whispered. His thumbs brushed tenderly over her cheekbone for a moment before he folded around her, his face buried against her neck and his arms painfully tight around her. “I’m so scared.”

She held him as he wept, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words neither of them would remember later. It was not really her words he needed, merely her touch, the comfort of knowing she cared enough to brush up against the monster inside him if it meant that the man could feel the touch of her body, small and warm against him. His tears soaked into the collar of her t-shirt until it stuck to her skin.

No, not tears. Saliva. He licked the place where her neck met her collarbone and moaned. His hands came up to thread his fingers through her hair. He pressed himself tightly against her, and she felt him growing hard against her hip. Her gut clenched, and not just from fear.

“Mul—”

His name died on her lips as something sharp pierced her skin, a sudden warmth spilling down her shoulder. She struggled in his grip, a fly in a web, and he bit down harder.

Scully had an unfortunate amount of practice stuffing down her gibbering panic, translating the adrenaline that threatened to paralyze her into action instead; she summoned every drop of strength she could manage, twisting at the hip, and used the strength of her legs and torso to shove him back. Her hand immediately flew up to press against the wound on her neck as she stared at him, blood trickling between her fingers and her mouth open in shock and fear.

A monster stared back at her from the place where his face should have been, thickly ridged brows and serrated teeth dripping with crimson and eyes gleaming the fevered yellow of a jungle cat. It wore her blood like warpaint, like a sacrificial mask. A growl rumbled forth from what had been Mulder’s throat and its hands clenched and unclenched at its sides as it prepared to strike again. It dropped into a crouch, shoulders hunched, muscles rippling unnaturally beneath the surface of its skin. Its features twisted into something like joy.

Scully wondered if she could free the gun at her hip before it reached her; a bullet might not drop the thing, but she could slow it down.

Even vampires feel pain.

A sudden shudder passed through the creature and a high wail of grief tore from its throat. Slowly, the face softened, melted, Mulder’s familiar features coming back to the fore, dazed and afraid. He touched a finger to his chin and revulsion crossed his face as he realized he was streaked with her blood; the stain of it was shockingly dark against his skin. He turned away, shame-faced, but not before she saw him lick his lips clean.

“Get away from me,” he growled as she started to reach for him. She snatched her hand back as if burned, as if he would bite it. He collapsed onto the bed, his head buried in his hands. “I can’t—I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I’m all right, Mulder,” she said, though her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. “You didn’t hit anything important. I’m fine.”

But her hands shook as she grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and pressed them to her neck; they soaked through more quickly than she had expected, red blooming across the flimsy paper like roses on snow. She dropped them and grabbed another bunch, ignoring the way his eyes followed the sodden ones to the floor. She forced herself to take a step forward, then another, and then to sit beside him on the bed. Her free hand found his shoulder, and though they both flinched at her touch, neither moved away.

“I could have hurt you, Scully. I could have—” He gulped, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “I could have killed you.”

Her hand on his shoulder tightened and she forced him to turn towards her, not with the strength of her hand—pitiful compared to the strength he now possessed—but with the tenderness of her touch. She cupped his chin and waited for his eyes to meet hers; she held his gaze, blue staring unwavering into green. “You didn’t, Mulder. And you won’t.” She took a deep breath. “You’re just hungry, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding shakily. “Speaking of which.” He pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the microwave, fishing out the container and pulling back the lid. His face twisted and fell as a rancid, metallic smell wafted through the room.

“No good?” she asked, nose wrinkling.

“It’s gone all lumpy.”

“Coagulation,” she explained, the medical doctor inside her rising to the surface. “Clotting factors catalyze plasma proteins into sticky threads, forming gel-like clumps that slow blood loss from a wound.”

“Charming. It looks like tapioca pudding that’s been left out for a few centuries.”

Her stomach turned at that mental image. “I don’t know much about your new… dietary requirements… but I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t eat that.”

He sighed, closing the lid and dropping the whole container into the wastebasket beside the mini fridge. “It’s okay, Scully. I can wait.”

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “You can’t. Mulder, you’re barely standing. You won’t be able to hold yourself back much longer, and you won’t be any help with research tonight.” She laughed, though there was no joy in it. “You can’t even make it through a single stakeout shift without a sack of junk food, and that was before you took on a ravenous, demonic parasite.”

Her voice grew hollow and detached as she realized what she needed to do. “If you snap and… hurt someone… you’ll never forgive yourself.” And I’ll never forgive either of us. She drew her pocket knife from the front of her jeans and turned it over and over in her palm, hoping she’d cleaned it recently, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much. “No, Mulder, you have to eat.”

“What are you—?! No—!”

But she had already flipped open the blade and pressed it into the creamy flesh of her forearm, below the bend of her elbow. She pushed a little harder, letting a thick bead of blood well up before slashing firmly downward, opening herself to him with a small whimper of pain. Thick rivulets of red, glimmering like jewels, trickled down her pale skin, pooling in the trembling cup of her hand.

Mulder managed to hold her gaze for a brief moment, his face a silent plea for forgiveness—for what he had become, for the hunger he was powerless to fight, for what he was about to do to her. She smiled her benediction as tears fell from her eyes. “Just don’t take it all.”

As the scent of her blood reached him, the demon’s form bubbled up to the surface—and its face was full of nothing but pleasure. It lunged forward and closed its mouth over the wound, its teeth piercing deep as it suckled ravenously, its tongue probing obscenely beneath her flesh. Its hand closed around her bruised wrist almost tenderly, like an apology, pinning her in place; small sounds of satisfaction came from its throat as it gulped her down. It moved off the bed and knelt before her, its free hand spreading her thighs and gripping her firmly as it settled between them.

Deep inside her heart, in a place she rarely thought of and never shared, she felt a tremulous thrill at the need this monster had for her. She knew all the legends, the place vampires occupied in folklore as seducers and devils. She could rattle off theories about devouring blood being a puritanical metaphor for sex: the penetration of the fang as it corrupts innocent flesh, the blood spilling from the bite the way some women bleed during their first intercourse.

Hell, she’d seen that Anne Rice movie more times than she would ever dare to admit.

But no dusty book of folktales or moody Hollywood film could have prepared her for the desire that flooded in to fill the space her blood left behind as it flowed into Mulder’s mouth. Her heart pounded, her breathing grew rapid and shallow, and maybe she could blame that on the blood loss—but not the way she throbbed between her legs as he tongued her open wound.

Pity it took this for Mulder to finally put his mouth on her.

Through the ecstasy of her pain, she felt him pull away. Her head was swimming, and she drew several deep, steadying breaths, feeling out the weakness in her body before deciding she was mostly all right. Not much worse than the annual Red Cross drive at the bureau. She debated asking Mulder for a cookie; but his refusal to meet her eyes, even as the face of the demon faded away, killed the joke before it passed her lips.

“That’s enough, Scully.” He looked around for a moment, as if puzzled to find himself kneeling between her legs, and dropped his eyes as he moved away. “Um. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? I’m a little dizzy, but you can have more if you need it.”

A small amount of color had returned to his cheeks, but the circles beneath his eyes were still dark as bruises. Even as he shook his head and stepped away from her, his eyes lingered on the still-oozing cut, on the thin trickle sliding down her arm and dripping off the tips of her fingers. It landed on the dingy carpet with a patter like raindrops.

She moved quickly into the bathroom and shut the door; she didn’t want to see him licking the floor.

The face that met her in the mirror above the sink was even paler than usual, her freckles like dark constellations spread across the expanse of her skin and circles under her eyes nearly the same purple as Mulder’s. She would have to return to her room and apply more makeup, and find something to cover the mark on her neck, which she was relieved to see was smaller than she had imagined. She shuddered as she moistened a washcloth and wiped away the crust of dried blood that had formed around the punctures, remembering the heat of his mouth, the way her body had coiled with pleasure even through the haze of pain—and the way his body had responded to the hot pulse of her blood in his mouth. Maybe it was a good thing Mulder couldn’t see his reflection anymore; she found herself unable to meet her own eyes, and she had only been the vessel. How must he have felt, drinking of her very life?

In the medicine cabinet, she found a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide and used it to clean the wounds on her neck and arm. Rummaging under the sink produced only a box of moldy bandages, too small to cover the slash she had made. It was deeper than she had first thought, blood still seeping sluggishly down her arm, and she made a mental note to be more careful next time.

And she knew, eventually, there would be a next time.

They had said the pull of human blood was strongest in newly-turned vampires, and she had witnessed firsthand how he struggled to consume animal blood. If it was a choice between feeding him herself or allowing him to grow hungry enough to snap and prey on a helpless stranger, she would choose to open her veins every time. At least she had a gun and a cross and her FBI combat training to fall back on.

She grabbed a thin towel from the pile beside the shower and ripped it into strips to clean and bind her cut.

As she worked, she found herself slipping with relief into the cool, clinical detachment of science and medicine, pondering the physical reality of what her partner had become, because the mystical side was beyond her realm of expertise. If she sent a sample of his saliva to the lab, would she discover the presence of anticoagulants, painkillers, aphrodisiacs—chemicals to make the victim more compliant and allow a vampire to feed more deeply? And, she thought with a blush, explain my reaction to his bite? Could his pale skin contain some kind of photo-reactive substance that burst into flames upon contact with sunlight? She had seen vampires bleed; what moved that blood through their bodies, when they had no detectable pulse? What sort of electrical activity would she find in his brain, how did he keep from rotting if his cells were no longer alive, and what was the mechanism of the change that came over him when the demon came out to feed?

By the time she had tended her wounds to her satisfaction, Scully had a long list of questions; even without the answers, she felt more secure in her skin than she had in days. Yes, something horrible had happened to her partner. Yes, she was adrift in a sea of paranormal mystery that she didn’t fully understand. But this was not the first time she had found herself faced with a daunting new reality; she had survived all that had come before, and she would survive this too. She was a medical doctor, a trained FBI agent, and a veteran of more than seven years worth of hauntings, monster hunts, and demons—both personal and literal.

She would face this. For Mulder and for herself. She would find answers, maybe even a cure, if not in the science she held so sacred than in the dusty tomes of mysticism and myth. She took comfort in reminding herself that they were not alone in this quest, that Mulder had somehow stumbled across a band of unlikely allies in this coastal town whose sunny days only belied nights filled with terror and death—allies who had spent years battling the stuff of nightmares and usually won. Even now they waited in town for Mulder and Scully to join them.

She stepped back into Mulder’s room to find that night had fallen completely, filling the room with an inky darkness. The lights were off—he didn’t need them to see in the dark anymore—but she found him by scent and touch just the same and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“You’d better get dressed, Mulder. It’s time to go see the Slayer.”

[drghostwrite]

Can I make a request for prompt #8 with Arizona robbins and Callie Torres? I was think of them doing something like playing doctor and patient with Arizona as the doctor and Callie as the patient? I am really sorry if this is a random request! I'm rewatching Grey's!

Well it’s been a minute but here goes nothing… I haven’t written anything exactly like this yet so please y’all take it easy on me lol

Pairing: Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres

Prompt: “Baby, bend over and spread your legs.”

Summary: everyone knows the iconic “I have something that’ll cure a headache” line, but what if those events ended a little different.

******************************************************** ”Ugh…” Callie groaned out, pressing a hand against her forehead. She had files splayed across the on call room table in front of her, she heard the lock click to the shared room and went unmoving hearing another body enter. She had stuck away after being admitted for not feeling well, she was dehydrated and almost collapsed during a trauma call so bedrest for the next week was mandatory but Arizona and Bailey knew she wouldn’t stay home so being admitted here was the final verdict.

Whoever it was either knew her enough to be scared and leave, or they knew her enough to know exactly what was wrong, she was ready to kick them out when she felt strong but gentle hands come behind her shoulders. She felt shallow breathe hutting the back of her neck and then the shell of her ear as the fingers moved to massage the sore muscles.

“Mmm… Arizona…”

“Oh no love, it’s Dr. Robbins to you.” Callie turned to face the other woman and she felt Arizona stop, placing a kiss on ever lips but Arizona pulled away and Callie watched as she sauntered her way over to the bunk sitting down. She whined at the loss of contact.

“Arizona don’t tease.”

“I’m sorry I’m not sure I was clear, we’re at work in a very professional setting.”

“Baby please.” Callie moved in next to her and tried kissing her again but after two they pulled apart. Callie tried jumping to pin her down but Arizona quickly turned so she was on top.

“I’ve heard that your a very uncooperative patient.”

“We’ll if only I had more attentive doctors.”

Arizona placed a bruising kiss on her lips as Callie tried lifting her shirt. “Oh no you don’t.” Arizona said pushing her hands away and holding her wrists above her head.

“Dr. Robbins I think you’re being a little rough.” Callie pulled her lip between her teeth teasing her wife, knowing it destroyed her. Arizona watched with lust blown pupils as her wife moved below her looking for any friction she could find while trying to tease. She hooked fingers in her sweats and pulled the bottoms off along with her parties throwing them aside.

“You know Dr. I think there’s a policy in place about sleeping with patients?”

Arizona let out a deep chuckle, and got off of the raven haired woman, “Baby, bend over and spread your legs.”

Callie looked at the blonde haired woman wide eyed but saw quickly she was unmoving and quickly stood bent over and leaned onto her stomach, she spread her legs giving Arizona all the access she needed.

She ran a finger through her folds making sure to ghost over the sensitive bud, hearing Callie moan and squirm beneath her she pushed in two fingers and then three pumping faster each time.

“Mm, not so uncooperative now are we?”

Callie couldn’t form real words so she responded in moans as Arizona pumped faster, she leaned down pulling her clit into her mouth, and sucking hard. Callie let out a loud moan and Arizona stood watching as she climaxed all over her hand.

“Your turn.” Callie responded breathless still seeing stars.

“I’m sorry I have other patients I need to attend to but if my services are needed later the nurse can page me, only if the patient is cooperative though.” She said a smirk on her face, she quickly kissed Callie and ran out of the room. As the renowned badass ortho god say there dumbfounded by the interaction.

[bansept]

Pushing Forward (Resident Evil)

In every movement, every sound, every shift in the light, he remembers the groaning, moaning, and screaming of those things. In every lingering second, minute, and hour, he feels his heartbeat, his breath hitch. He isn't himself. Maybe he never was. He was alive, maybe he isn't anymore.

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

So, I finished RE2 Remake some time ago and wanted to write some post-game fiction of what *I* think Leon might feel like after all that stuff happened. (spoiler, he doesn't feel that good)

Here is the link to read it on AO3 !

TW : canon violence, suicidal thoughts, explicit description of violence, past traumatic experience, Leon being sad and traumatized.

For the sake of me, I do not choose any pairings!

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

When he looks back at his life, he should have known nothing good would ever come out of it.

He did try to find some hope, some comfort. A way out of the loneliness he grew up in. Becoming a cop was a good way to put others before himself, longingly trying to bury himself in work, be it sorting documents about thefts, disputes, burglaries, or lost kittens... And if not working at the post, then patrol the streets with a senior officer busy comically eating his doughnuts and loudly sipping his coffee while belittling him for being so naively attentive about everything in the streets. Being scolded for not getting things done quickly enough, being complimented for reading all the files, and cleaning behind himself.

Anything but being late.

He remembers hanging up his phone after his ex-girlfriend broke up with him, declaring he was "too nice" and she was worth more than a simple cop. He can see himself reaching for the nearest vodka bottle on the table, swinging back, and drowning his grunts of pain in the hard alcohol. Oh, that shit was disgusting. But that was all he had at the moment, the bitter, sickening taste of a cheap bottle found in the back of a cupboard. His head throbs in remembrance, the way he woke up laid down on the floor, hungover and late as fuck.

His eyes shift to the Matilda gun he carefully placed on the table in front of him, and he gulps.

He met Claire at the first stop of that nightmare, the gas station. She did save his ass by shooting in the cashier's head, splattering his brains and blood everywhere. It was the first time he saw a head explode in real life. And even in the movies he did watch it wasn't as gory.

He recalls the night, and how used to violence he became to survive.

Leon feels his stomach churn, unhappy about the lack of food and crude memories. His temples are still wet, even after a cold shower, his moist hands rub together on his jeans in a vain attempt to get rid of his unease.

The hotel he is placed in is clean, warm, and safe. The security is tight, with trained armed men on every level ready to shoot any and all threats. He dumbly explained to them the zombies needed to be shot in the head until it popped open for them to stay down and dead, but stabbing their bodies with a knife would always be a good precautionary measure. Leon almost got bit dozens of times at the beginning of the night before applying his little technique. For all that matters, the agent he talked to only seemed to nod his head in courtesy rather than in actual thanks.

"It's not like any of them actually fought against those things..." He mumbles as he stands up, rubbing his hand against his arm nervously. "Fucking stuck-ups. Next time, I'm not telling them shit."

Leon walks silently to the adjacent bathroom, the wounds on his chest rubbing against the freshly applied bandages. After getting pulled out of the funicular, a team of medic had stopped him, examining his pupils for any suspicious movement all the while three charged and ready-to-shoot LE 5 guns were aimed at his head, chest, and legs. He had managed to calmly explain why he was there under their watchful eyes, the doctor in front of him pushing a shot of morphine into his arm and telling him to follow the men to safety. They had bandaged him hurriedly, the clean wrapping too tight around the gash on his belly and upper back, before heading back to their more important work like ant drones. He isn't their priority right now. And he doesn't know if he should be happy to be left alone without incessant questioning, or if he should pick up his gun and shoot himself in the bathroom to stop his brain from remembering.

The square mirror on top of the sink reflects a stranger: a man at the end of the thread, impossible bags under his eyes, sweat-covered face and hair, bruises and gashes all over his body, the light in his eyes only a reflection of the sickly white ceiling lamp. His smile he always tries to wear is gone. His confidence is battered, spread on the ground like the limbs and bones of all those people he killed, a poor excuse of what it was not even two days before. He never likes to walk around shirtless, but the feeling of a t-shirt or sweatshirt makes his skin crawl and the wounds always end up bleeding again. He doesn't want to feel blood on his skin ever again. But the bandage around his chest, covering his shoulder and his stomach is starting to get redder by the minute, and he grunts between rapid pants.

"Breathe in, breathe out..." He tells himself, his own voice sounding foreign, too deep, too fucking abnormal to his own ears. His hands reach for the bandage lining, pulling on it carefully, the strain of the pressure being released makes his teeth clench as a rush of pain travels through his stomach. He wants to end it all now. Like a bandaid, Leon thinks he must pull all of it fast, so the pain can vanish more easily. Hopefully. The grunts keep coming out of his mouth, an abundance of pain and blood pouring out of his body, but he keeps going. His hands are bloody by the time the wrap drops to the floor, revealing a deep gash going from under his pancreas to his left hip. He was told he was extremely lucky to not have any organs touched, but now, alone in a hotel bathroom, tears pooling in his eyes, hands shaking, mind racing to that fucking grey giant dude who almost punctured him a hundred times over in less than 5 hours and blood all over his wounded chest, he wishes he could have died there.

His teary gaze falls to the wound, palping it, feeling the warm liquid oozing out of him slow down. He thinks he remembers being told to wash the wound before wrapping it up again.

"Hope water is enough..." Leon shuffles to his right side, the less injured one, to open the faucet and gather some water. His hips gradually move his body closer, and the water he pours on the gash doesn't splash everywhere. Yay, at least he can still be somewhat clean.

Time is passing, he knows it, feels it every time he touches the flow of cold water, but he doesn't want to guess how long it takes to clean himself. Too long probably. He feels so fucking tired, used, rotten. But he does manage to finish his task. Now he only has to wrap it, tightly enough, and go back to feeling like shit, but only emotionally. He whimpers at the rough contact, but the linen does the job. His eyes go back up after a while, movements now a habit, and he's met with the old bandage on his shoulder.

He doesn't want to believe she is dead. She might have survived the fall from the metal gateway, might have escaped the city... Just like she might not. He wants to think that somehow, someway, she was the one that helped him kill that terrifying grey man with the rocket launcher. He wants to believe she did want to help him. That Ada didn't entirely lie to him, that she wasn't after the virus only to sell it to someone new. He scoffs to himself. He doesn't know her. Or didn't know. His eyebrows twitch in frustration. He wants her to be alive, and as well as possible. But at the same time, if she were alive, she would need to answer all of his questions, and he knows she wouldn't. If she is dead, all her secrets are buried with her, and while her loss hurts him, he can remember the moments of truth rather than the way she manipulated him to reach her own goal.

His hands tie the wrapping, smoothing it evenly, and the pressure on his chest feels right. He turns off the faucet, and with one more look in the mirror, turns off the light to walk back into the bedroom. The silence and lack of things to do send shivers back down his spine, and the infuriating agony of waiting invades him once again. He needs to find something to do, to occupy his mind before he takes the gun and shoves it in his mouth.

Leon walks up to the coffee table, hissing when he bends down to pick up his phone. The sturdy Nokia lights up with a caller ID, and he is certain he never picked up a call as quickly.

"Claire!"

"Leon! Hi!" She sounds thrilled to hear his voice, and he feels a literal ball of nerves going back down his body, relief washing over him.

"How are you? And Sherry? They got you to a safe place, right?" Leon doesn't even have time to feel stupid: of course they were taken to safety. He only needs to hear her say it.

"We're both okay! Some docs tested and patched us up quickly, then we got sent to a hotel for the time being. When our quarantine will be lifted, we should be able to go back to civilization."

She sounds chipper, like all that shit out there was just a picnic gone wrong. He envies her, wishes he could act that way, just brush it all off and move on. Then he remembers he's alone and she's with Sherry. Claire can't afford to crumble down with her, she needs to be there, to support her and make her believe everything will be alright, soon. Leon guesses if Sherry wasn't there, Claire would be as helpless as him. He shakes his head and offers a breathy laugh.

"I'm glad..." He really is. Too many people died because of his incompetence, he wouldn't be able to bear Claire and Sherry's disappearance as well. "I'm at a hotel too. Nobody told me when I'd get out, but it shouldn't be long."

"Yeah, I hope so. I need a break from anything Raccoon City-related." She chuckles, her voice sounding soft even through the plastic Nokia case. He feels a smile stretch on his lips.

"By the way, did you have any contact with your brother? Is he alright too?"

"Oh, yeah Chris! He contacted me a few hours ago. Said he was fine and he'd be meeting us soon with the BSAA."

BSAA? What was that? Leon frowns but doesn't interrupt her. Is it part of the army?

"Oh, actually, I think someone here wanted to talk to you, Leon." Claire declares, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Hm? What? Who?" His brain is heavy in his skull, fatigue catching up to him. He can't guess who could want to talk to him in particular.

There is movement on the line, the phone shuffled from one hand to another in silence.

"Leon!" Sherry's voice rings in the device, and for the second time that day, all his fatigue is going down the drain, the voice of the child single-handedly brushing off the dark clouds over his head. Only breakfast manages to do that.

"Sherry!" He answers excitedly. "I'm happy to hear you! How are you?"

"I'm okay! Claire and I are at the hotel! I hope we leave soon, I'm tired of sticking here."

Oh, how he gets that.

"Don't worry, you'll be out soon. You just stay with Claire, okay? She'll take good care of you."

It's not a stretch to affirm it: Sherry depends on Claire now. With both her parents gone, the city she probably grew up in blown up, and no living family, Claire is the sister figure she needs. Leon hopes they will be able to stay together even after those events. It's another story for him. He cares about the little girl. He cares about Claire. He wants them safe. He wants to see them both smile and grow older. But.. He can't see himself being with them. He won't be. He knows it. If he doesn't blow his brains in the upcoming nights, he will be dragged somewhere else. He is a cop, but he's seen too many things and knows too much information. He's afraid he breathes his last smiles with them, hotels apart, the greying of the phone masking their feelings.

When the call ends, he feels empty again. Empty but full of fear, anger, unshakable terror, of disgust. Against the world, against himself. He wants to rush back to the bathroom to re-open his wound only to patch them up again, so he can absorb himself in the violence of blood. He wants to take his combat knife, gifted by Lieutenant Branaghn, which he couldn't save either, and dig it into someone's eye socket. He wants to sneak inside the armory in one of the many rooms to take a shotgun and blow the remaining zombies outside. He wants to do it all over again. He needs to exorcise his thoughts by doing the same thing, over and over, so he can think about nothing else, and forget the human emotions creeping up, forget the guilt and pain and regret.

Someone knocks at the door, and Leon immediately takes the Matilda gun with him.

Behind the door, the government.

Behind the door, an offer he can't refuse.

Beyond the door, more pain. More death.

He picks up his shirt and follows the two bulky men, sensing blood oozing out of him once again, the last remnants of police officer Leon Kennedy trailing behind him.

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

In the final fight, Leon can actually get slashed on the ass, but I thoughts it would be too cruel to have his wound here, so I took pity.

One day, I hope to do another one with RE4!

[adoracora-elizabeth]

But Papa! Why? Chapter 49

Robert checked the bedroom; Cora was still sleeping. During the night she had woken up several times, from nightmares. He needed all his restraint not to pay Mr. Bricker a visit right now. He should write a note for Cora saying that he had left for the office already. He preferred to stay with her until she woke up, but they needed to start the paperwork for the lawsuit. He wished she would wake up calmly and at least a bit well rested. He had said, she could take the day off, but Cora had insisted on going to the office. The last time she woke up last night, she had said it would not help staying at home. Her mind would only run in circles. And he had agreed on that, being amongst other people would help. And in the office, there were people who knew what had happened, if she wanted to talk, it was possible. Although he was not sure if Baxter would be back, and Rosamund had emailed that she would take today off. Was Baxter back from her get away? He did not know that either. At least he and his father would be in the office.

Robert walked towards the kitchen and saw fresh oranges on the kitchen counter, he could make her an orange juice. Cora loved a fresh orange juice in the morning, it was something that her father used to make her when she was a little girl. Every morning Cora made herself a freshly juiced orange juice, to keep the memory of her father alive. But Robert suspected it was not just the memory of her father, but he could see and hear that she missed her country from time to time. Two years ago, she had never thought about moving to England and now she was going to marry him and stay the rest of her live. He would make sure; she would never have a reason to move back. He would not survive losing her he was sure of that. He looked around in the kitchen, he hoped to find a manual juicer, the automatic one would make too much noise. Even though the bedroom was on the other side of the apartment, he did not want to risk waking her up.

He almost had the glass filled when he felt a small hand on his back. "I have an automatic one, you do know that do you not?" Cora asked, while leaning against his back. She had wrapped herself in her morning dress, her curls were wild, but she had tried to tame them with a hair elastic.

Robert chuckled. "I do know that, but I did not want to make too much noise, you were finally sleeping somewhat peacefully.

"Those last couple of hours were finally real sleep." Cora smiled." I feel a little bit more rested." She wrapped her arms around Robert, she rested with her cheek against his shoulder blade. "When will I be able to sleep normally again, I do not want to give this power to him. He does not deserve that I am feeling the way that I do."

He put the last orange down, wiped his hands on a towel and turned around, so Cora was now wrapped up in his arms. She instantly rested her head against his chest, her hands were on his lower back. "It needs time darling." He said.

"I do not want to waste that time on this. We should be doing fun things. Like going to see those Highland Cows." She let out a deep sigh.

Robert kissed the top of her head. "I am going to the office; do you want me to wait for you?"

"You are leaving already?" Cora lifted her head, she now rested with her chin against Robert's chest.

"I want to speak to my father as soon as possible, we need to get the lawyers to work." Robert moved his hand up to Cora's neck, he massaged her scalp.

Softly Cora moaned, she loved it when he did that. "I am going to take a shower and will come to the office on my own."

Robert kissed her on the lips. "I will be waiting for you."

"No, you will not." Cora chuckled.

"What do you mean?" Robert leaned back, surprised by her words.

Cora laughed. "You will not be waiting for me."

"I will." Robert interrupted her.

"No dear, you will not. You are consumed by the case you are about to file as soon as you enter the office."

"Hmm, you know me to well."

+++

"Robert, can you come into my office?" His father was standing on the first floor, when he entered.

Robert greeted the receptionist; he had not seen the woman before. Since Baxter started working with Cora, they had not found a receptionist that worked on the same level. They were spoiled with Baxter's work attitude. He quickly walked on to his father's office.

"Sit down please."

Robert looked around the room, but only his father was present.

"Did you talk with Cora?" Patrick inquired.

"She has told me what happened last Friday. I cannot express how mad I am. What can we do about this?"

Patrick stroke with his hand over his chin, something he did when he was concentrating. "Is Cora coming in today? Or is she not ready to go back to work yet?"

"She is ready to go back to work, she was not dressed, when I left, but she will be here soon."

"Good, a police officer will be here later this morning to take a statement of her. With that statement our lawyers will start working. I hope at least that she will report Mr. Bricker for what he has done?"

"I think she will report him."

Patrick only looked at Robert for a couple of seconds. 'I may hope she is not doubting about that. She needs to report him, if she does not, we cannot do anything, and he will be walking freely. He needs to be punished for this."

Robert loved his father for this. Cora was not even his daughter, but he protected her as if she was. "I will let her know that she has to be here. What time will the officer be here?"

+++

"The officer is waiting in my father's office for you. Are you ready for it?" Robert put his hand on Cora's lower back, while they walked towards the stairs.

Cora nodded. "Will you stay with me?"

"My father will for sure, and if I am allowed, I will also stay." He felt Cora's back tense. "It will all be alright. You only have to tell the officer what has happened, he is not here and will not be here."

Cora stopped midway of the stairs and turned towards him. "Do you think I will need to face him again?"

"It is possible that you will see him when it is brought to court but let’s not look to far into the future. For now, the officer is here and needs to hear your story for his report."

+++

"Did he do anything else than putting his hands on the inside of your legs?" The officer looked up from his notepad.

"He touched more than just the inside of her legs." Robert said sharply.

The officer now looked at Robert, who was sitting in the back of the office. "I have written down where he touched her, but it is visible painful for the lady to talk about it. So that is why I choose my wording the way I did. You can be assured that this incident will be written down into the smallest details. Man like this need to feel the consequences."

"Thank you, I think I have told you everything that I remember from that evening." Cora's voice was thick.

"Mr. Crawley, is there anything else you want to add to your statement?"

Patrick looked at Cora and then back to the officer. "Everything that happened after I arrived is in your notepad already."

"Good, so can I speak with Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley too?"

"I am very sorry, but Mr. Molesley is not here in London, he lives in Downton up north. Miss Baxter should be in the office, Robert do you know where she is?"

"She is in my office; I saw her when we walked in." Cora answered.

"Thank you, is there a way Mr. Molesley can come to the bureau?"

Robert snorted. "He is in Downton, so I do not think he will be able to come for his statement."

Patrick scraped his throat. "When do you have time for him at the station? I will send my driver to pick him up and he will be in to tell you his side of the story." He gave Robert a stern look.

The officer got up and put his notepad back in his jacket. "I am going to write out your statement and will send them so you can check if I did not miss something."

"Thank you, officer." Patrick shook his hand.

+++

Patrick walked with the officer to get Baxter's statement, Robert got up and stepped closer to Cora. She had a straight back while the officer was in the office, but now her shoulders were bent forward, and she slummed down. Carefully he put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Cora took in a very shaking breath. "I am not sure."

Robert squatted down next to Cora's chair. "Can I do anything for you?"

"It was easier to tell you last night what happened than it was to this officer. Is that not weird, should it not be the other way around?" Cora looked at her folded hands on her lap.

"I do not know my darling. I really do not know."

"As soon as this police officer finishes the statements, our lawyers will start working."

The door opened and Patrick stepped back inside. "The lawyers will be here this afternoon. We do not need the written statement to start."

"Papa, does that mean, Cora has to tell the story again this afternoon?"

"Unfortunately, it does." Patrick looked at Cora. "I am sorry my dear, but we need to go through this as fast as possible."

Cora looked up. "I know, I know. When will they be here?"

Patrick looked at his watch. "In two hours, they will be here."

"Good." Cora got up.

"Where are you going?" Robert asked.

"I have two more hours to work on our current advertisement."

"You are going to work?" Robert now asked surprised.

Cora shrugs her shoulders. "What else should I do, wait and feel miserable and think about last Friday. No please, I rather not."

"Cora is right." Patrick said. 'Keeping your mind busy is the best thing you can do right now. I will let you know when they are here."

"Thank you. For everything."

Patrick was standing close to Cora; he took her hand in his. "For you my darling, I would do anything. I see how happy you make Robert, and you are part of our family now."

+++

"Did you ask him to sit next to you?" Richard sat opposite of Cora, next to him was his partner, Helen. Until now it had been mostly Richard who asked the questions.

"I did not ask him that. He suddenly was sitting next to me."

"What did you do next?" Richard asked.

"I asked him to leave. I told him that I was expecting a client and that he needed to go."

"Oke."

"He told me that he was the client and that he had lied to make that appointment."

"He used the same tactic as you had done, when you went to his office, did he not?" This time Helen's voice sounded.

Cora did not like her voice, she sounded as if she was judging her for what had happened. "I indeed pretended to be a client to learn more about his company. That is true."

"And then your father-in-law, or upcoming father-in-law bought that company to get rid of the competition." Helen's voice was sharp.

"He did offer a big amount of money, Mr. Bricker accepted that offer and sold the company."

"He was there for some sort of revenge?" Helen was the one to ask this question.

"He said that he wanted me and that he would not take no for an answer. He insisted that I wanted him too. But I never wanted anything more than the business interaction we had."

"So, this man is interested in you and the company you work for has bought his company. So, he lost everything?" Helen again.

"He did get a lot of money for it." Cora protested. "And I have been very clear from the moment he sat down next to me, that I am engaged and did not want anything from him."

"Why are you treating Miss. Levinson as if she has done something bad?" Robert interrupted. He had wanted to interrupt earlier, but he managed to bite his tongue. But he did not like what those lawyers were doing. Were they not hired to punish that Bricker guy?

Richard looked at him. "I do understand that it does look like we are trying to put the blame on her. I can guarantee you that we are not. Miss Levinson's story is very clear and there is no doubt in our mind, that this is not sexual assault. We want to make sure that we have highlighted every point of view, so that the lawyer that Mr. Bricker is getting, will not get a foot in between the door.

After many more questions, they finally said they knew enough for now and left. Cora stood next to Robert, when Richard and Helen left, she leaned against Robert's chest. "I am exhausted."

"Do you want to go home?" Robert wrapped his arm around her shoulder when he felt how heavy she leaned against him.

"Please." He voice was soft. "But please hold me for a little bit longer first."

Robert now wrapped both arms around her, Cora did the same, her arms slide over his sides to his back. She pressed herself against his chest as if she tried to disappear in him. Robert cradled her head and made sussing sound while he hold her as close as possible. This process would be a hard road for her, he already knew. Mr. Bricker would get good lawyers and he would fight this as long as he could. He felt frustrated, this should be the time they were preparing the wedding. Six more months, and Cora would be his wife. He would do everything he could to round up this whole process as quick as possible. He did not mind that it would cost them a fortune, Cora was worth it, more than worth it.