#i picture at the start he just stares at them

[dreamdragonkadia]

I'm pretty much child-free by choice but

I strongly believe Percy Jackson would be the ultimate girl dad. Like, hands down, no argument. More specially, three daughters.

The first two? Twins. Yep, double trouble from the start. You already rolling your eyes because you know Percy is going to be absolutely wrapped around their tiny little fingers, but you secretly love watching it happen. For a little while, it’s just the two girls, running around in matching outfits, tugging on Percy’s shirt to show him their latest “masterpiece” (which, let’s be real, is probably just a crayon drawing of the sea). He’d treasure it like it’s the Mona Lisa, though.

Then, a few years later, the third daughter arrives. The twins are old enough to “help” (aka argue over who gets to hold her first), and Percy is in absolute awe all over again, staring at her tiny fists and thinking, How did I get so lucky?

And he’s the best girl dad. He’s the type to play tea party one moment and then teach his girls how to skim rocks across a lake the next. When they get older, he’s the loudest one cheering at their swim meets or soccer games, completely embarrassing them but also making them feel like they’re the most important people in the world. He’d build sandcastles with them, help them conquer their fear of the ocean (if they somehow have one), and give each of them little conch shells so they can “talk” to him whenever they want, even when he’s not there.

And let’s not forget the nicknames! The twins would probably have matching ones like “Sea Star” and “Sand Dollar,” and the youngest might get something like “Little Pearl.” He’d absolutely use them in front of their friends, much to their horror as teenagers.

You would have act like your were exasperated with Percy’s soft side, but you know you'd melt watching him braid their hair or teach them to wield a sword (because, let’s face it, your daughters are going to know how to handle themselves). You'd never admit it to anyone, but there are probably pictures of Percy falling asleep on the couch with all three of them sprawled over him like sleepy puppies.

Percy as a girl dad just makes sense. The trouble, the love, the endless laughter—that’s where he thrives. You just know he’d be the dad his daughters compare every guy to because he’s set the bar that high.

[navybrat817]

If you're still taking ficlet requests, maybe a dark or soft dark Bucky who works for your dad?

I hope you like where I went with this, nonnie!

Dollhouse

Pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Toxic family, implied cheating (not reader or Bucky), drug and drinking reference, inspired by the song Dollhouse. Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes and implied future dubcon/noncon.

You didn’t want to come home for the weekend. You lost track of how many times you told your dad that. It didn’t matter that you weren’t a child anymore or that you weren’t living at the mansion. The expectation was that you would play the part of a supporting daughter in front of his employees no matter what. It was laughable, if not utterly sad. Either most didn’t know your family was far from a happy one or they didn’t care. And why would they as long as they got what they wanted?

Places, places, get in your places. Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces.

“Dad, I’m going to change and go for a swim,” you announced.

Your dad along with the group of men that surrounded him turned their heads toward you. Most of the men averted their gazes after a moment, except for one: Bucky Barnes. Ever since he started working for your dad he took an unexpected interest in you. He was always asking about your personal life, and he seemed all too happy when your recent relationship ended. Your dad, of course, loved him because he was a hard worker and made him money.

“Where’s your brother?” your dad asked, making you look away from Bucky.

“Couldn’t tell you,” you answered. If you had to guess, he was off in his room getting high.

“Okay. Just enjoy your swim, princess.” You did your best not to roll your eyes at the nickname. “But make sure you’re set for dinner. Your mother’s cooking your favorite.”

You did roll your eyes this time, and Bucky continued to stare. Your mom never lifted a finger in the kitchen. She’d order out and make it look like she did it herself.

Everyone thinks that we're perfect. Please don't let them look through the curtains.

“Of course, dad,” you said, leaving without another word and feeling a pair of cold blue eyes follow your every move.

The chatter from the main room filled the hall as you went to your room to change, the sound muffled once you shut the door. You blocked it out as best as you could as you selected one of your bathing suits and changed. You hoped your mom wouldn’t drink too much and embarrass herself at dinner. You also hoped your dad was smart enough not to bring a side piece around until after she passed out. It could be a little entertaining though if your brother ran his mouth.

Picture, picture, smile for the picture. Pose with your brother, won’t you be a good sister?

“Well, look at you.”

Your heart leapt to your throat when you turned around to see Bucky standing by your bed. He held your cover up in his hand. How the hell did he get in your room so quietly? Why was he there?

“What the hell are you doing?” you demanded.

“Sorry. I was trying to find the bathroom,” he said. A terrible lie, like he didn't even try. “Such a large place, you know. Easy to go through the wrong door.”

“Do you normally pick up garments that don’t belong to you when you’re 'lost'?” you asked, trying to take it from him.

He pulled his hand out of reach. “Not normally, but I couldn’t resist,” he said, not hiding the lust in his eyes as they landed on your chest and slowly drifted down. “You know, you have a pretty fucked up family.”

“Tell me something I don't know,” you scoffed.

Everyone thinks that we're perfect. Please don't let them look through the curtains.

“Allow me,” he offered as his gaze flickered back to your face.

“No, thanks,” you said, attempting to grab the cover up again as he narrowed his eyes.

"Turn around,” he ordered, his voice deeper and gruffer than before. “I won't tell you twice.”

Tell, not ask.

You hoped your trembling wasn't noticeable when you turned and faced the mirror, having to look at his reflection as he slowly walked up behind you. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that, and large. He could overpower you easily.

“This is such a beautiful color on you. Must drive all the boys crazy when you wear it. Also must be why your daddy keeps you locked up as much as he can,” he said more to himself than to you as he ran a gloved finger down your side. “But I’m not a boy, am I?”

“He doesn’t keep me locked up,” you whispered, unsure of why you were arguing. Maybe it would distract you from his touch.

He brought his mouth to your ear, his eyes locked with yours in the mirror. “You think because you live on your own that you’re free? That you aren’t watched at all times?” He asked, chuckling when you shivered again. “You may be your daddy's princess, but you'll be mine soon enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I make your dad a lot of money. He owes me.” He straightened up and slipped the fabric over your shaking frame. “As much as I hate to cover up such a beautiful piece of art, I may lose control if I don't,” he said, as if he had the right to do so. “Keep your door unlocked for me tonight.”

“I won't-”

He had a hand around your throat, but didn't squeeze. “You will,” he said, kissing your temple. “And we'll see if you can keep quiet.”

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️ And this one may be fun to continue.

[thephantomsdream]

At times, I want to smooch my own brain because last night I had the most fantastic dream. Start to finish. Hear me out:

Actor!Simon in a B99-like show. Actor!Johnny was his irl friend and the reason he ended as an actor himself, somehow. The director told Johnny of an idea he had about this scary giant that would barely talk, would put off people and intimidate them by just staring at them. It took the Scott 0.1 seconds to call his friend, a mechanic who fixed motorcycles and worked on his specifically, and also fit the description perfectly. (In any way, it all started with Johnny, who didn't understand boundaries at first, and Simon just ??? went with it, letting the man invite himself in his life, but whatever, they were buddies now. Also, Simon agreed because HE KNEW Johnny was a pain in the ass if he really wanted something.)

Soap and Gaz tried really hard in an episode to make someone confess. We're talking hours and hours spent in the interrogation room with no result, until at the very end Price, the Captain, congratulates them for cracking the case. He asks Johnny how he did it, and the man just shrugs. "All instinct, wha cannea say?" Skip to a scene where he drags Simon to the interrogation room, leaves him there with the suspect, locks the door behind them and said suspect immediately starts crying under Simon's cold death-stare.

Cue to you, another member of the cast, just there as a smaller role, appearing from time to time as the sweetheart receptionist. In real life, you applied to the gig because you were in need of some extra money, but did not expect to get it. In any way, it ended up being the best thing ever happening to you.

The whole cast and crew noticed it, the small smiles Simon sent you and how you'd give him pretty eyes all the time. It was all chemistry from the very start, although both of you kept it lowkey.

Anyway, some ideas ran around the writing crew to make the intimidating giant have some interesting interactions with you in the show. Fans went crazy, a battle of whom to ship started, and of course, Johnny and Simon were a ship, let's be real, throughout some others. Yet some fans started to see some patterns between your characters.

Show!Simon would always help you carry paperwork, the same Simon that glared a newbie out of the academy, or made Kyle write an apology letter because he bumped into him by accident and he had to read said apology out loud in front of the whole department. What I try to say is social interaction, going out of his way to help people and just being over-all nice wasn't Simon's deal. Most of the times.

You'd say you're heading home after the boys worked to find a burglar, and he'd casually drop that he'll take you since he's heading that way too. The same Simon that left Johnny stranded because he ate a burger in his old but very cherished Impala and the man left a ketchup streak on the seat, meaning nobody ever was allowed in his car anymore. But... you got offered a ride? Huh?

Show!You would be known for being sweet and always making fantastic food, like your signature cupcakes. Price would say he'd convince you to bake a whole tray for Simon if he did him a favor and of course Simon would agree immediately. A begrudgingly low "Deal" before he stormed out to do said favor.

But... he wasn't really a glutton. We're talking about the Show!Simon that had a one-way feud with a bakery because the owner made a slightly ignorant comment on their public Facebook, and it's been bothering him forever.

Johnny: Ye have Facebook, LT?

Simon: Course I fucking don't.

(Flashback to him opening FB posing as a granny, commenting shit on the bakery's page and the owner responding with "Dorothy, NOT AGAIN! I ALREADY APOLOGIZED! ON LIVE TV!" And then showing Simon snorting in front of the laptop, drinking a beer amused.)

But some attentive fans caught the Easter egg, a message popping up with a picture of a face very similar to yours. Or the interesting braided dark brown leather bracelet he had around his left wrist only seen when he lifted his arm to drink the beer. It had a single round gem on it. Funnily enough, while it looked like any dude-bro bracelet from afar, enough to not many anyone suspicious, he never seemed to take off his after that point. And one very dedicated fan spotted something. The color of the gem. It was very... peculiar...

Color spotted on your wrist too, throughout many episodes, where a pretty bracelet made of suspiciously similar round gems adorned it nicely. Huuuuh...

There were small little comments you both made, too.

The Captain handed you some documents and smiled amused.

Price: You got tan, sunshine. Enjoyed your vacation?

You: I adored Spain. Loved the small town idea, John, it was so relaxing.

+

Johnny: Hey, Lt., any place you'd move to after you retire?

Simon: Somewhere warm. Like Spain.

Johnny: ??? How come?

Simon: Tapas and vino tinto.

Johnny: (amused) Can ye even speak the language?

Simon: (dead-serious) Camarero, dos vinos tintos, gracias. (Waiter, two tinto wine glasses, thank you.)

Johnny: (baffled, stuttering questions)

Kyle: (behind Johnny, also baffled) Did he say "dos"? (Dos meaning two)

In the break room, you made an apple pie for the team and left it in the good care of Kyle and Simon comes in just as you were leaving.

You: Oh, Simon, good to see you!

And you both leave the break room, all while Kyle is seen trying to text and carry the pie, and immediately drops it as Johnny excitedly enters and spooks him. Meanwhile in the backround there's you handing Simon something out of your bag, oblivious to the pie brutality happening.

Show!Simon enters the break room again with a lunchbox and sits by the crime scene, looking down at the pie, then slowly up at a frozen Garrick and MacTavish. He proceeds to eat his food (later confirmed to be a Shepherd's pie) and ignore them as they freak out because Price LOVED apple pies, specially your pies.

Said later being:

Price: And what were you doing while they ruined my—... our pie?

Simon: Was eating.

Price: (visibly annoyed) That so?

Simon: (visibly smug) Had the best bloody Shepherd's pie ever.

Price: Enough. (Insert grumpy old man tantrum while he storms off to his office)

Why do I mention the Shepherd's Pie? Well, a season later, as the boys try to find out something, anything about The Ghost, Simon Riley, they finally have to beg him to tell them literally anything about himself. What they didn't know is that while he answers smugly that he likes Shepherd's Pies, a simple answer after SO MUCH begging, as you finish the series, you understand that Simon Riley gave these two idiots the most important information they needed to know.

In the later episodes, after a horrible beef with another police station with a dude called Graves, Simon and Kyle sit at a bar drinking, when two beautiful girls approach them. Kyle's all over the moon, meanwhile one of the girls tries to flirt with Simon but he immediately shuts down.

Simon: Imma head out, Garrick, need some food in me.

RandomPrettyGirl: How about I take you home and feed you good? Make you a nice roast, handsome.

Simon: Not interested. Got myself the perfect Shepherd's pie at home.

(And he leaves with a nod towards Kyle, leaving the woman stunned, but also Kyle himself. That's when it's speculated he finally understood.)

Price: What did you make there, sunshine? Smells delicious.

You: A pie. (You'd smirk at him as he leans over the counter, interested.) Not for you. This one has meat in it.

Price: Bloody hell, woman, I thought at this point you'd know I'd eat anything you make, even if it were off the floor.

You: Shame. Didn't make any for you. (You'd smile sweetly at him then giggle at seeing him deflate and be sad.) Oh, for the love of— John, go in your office, yours is already on a plate. (John then sprints and locks himself in his office. Indeed it was bloody fucking perfect.)

Or the many times Simon would be seen eating from the same lunch-box, a dark blue one with some intricate drawings on it, meanwhile someone spotted you in an episode sitting at your desk with a matching light blue one, same intricate designs on it too. The fandom was on fucking fire for that.

But what I truly believe is that Simon would just nonchalantly drop that you two are dating.

Anyone: What's your type?

Simon: My girlfriend.

Everyone: ??????

+

After hearing that, everyone (not really) started to speculate who this girlfriend is. It was mostly Johnny but Kyle was also curious, or more likely suspicious. The latter hasn't really caught Ghost with whom he suspected, and wanted confirmation too.

Johnny: (inspecting a crime scene, hopping over a dead body) Okay. Tall, red-head, always wears leather?

Simon: (rolls his eyes while scribbling in his note-book)

Johnny: (mutters butt-hurt how his good friend and Lt wouldn't trust him with the first woman he's ever mentioned)

(2 minute later)

Johnny: Alright! Is it someone I know?

Simon: (silently locking eyes with him, pausing what he does)

Johnny: (screetches) IT IS?! Wait. Is it— Ah, (dramatic pause, looking at the corpse) the wife murdered him.

Simon: Yes. (closes notebook and heads towards the door)

Johnny: Wait! Yes to what?

+

Kyle: (trying to act casual back at the station in front of a board filled with murder pictures and notes) So...

Simon: (ignores him while reading a document)

All he had to do was to say your name once and he got the Ghost looking at him straight into his soul, document in his hand forgotten. And it shows that Gaz had balls because he stared back into his eyes, big difference from the little shit he was at the beginning of series.

(2 minutes later)

RandomPoliceOfficer: Lieutenant Riley, sir? Someone is... asking for... what... is going on?

Cue to camera focusing on Simon and Kyle still having a staring contest.

+

Price: Good job today, boys.

Johnny: Night, Cap'.

Kyle: Evening, sir.

They both leave, bidding their goodbyes.

Simon: (curt nod towards his Captain)

Price: Tell the missus hello from me. (And of course, he has to smile amused at Simon, knowing what the others have been up to.)

Simon: Trying to get her to make you some food?

Price: Wouldn't kill, she's been starving me.

Simon: You're just mad I get to eat all of her food, that's it.

Price: Being cheeky towards your Captain? I could fire you right now, you know?

A rare moment of them chuckling alone before Simon also leaves the station to head home.

That was the begging of the end. Don't get me started with the ending. A whole episode dedicated to you two, one of the last of the whole series before the wrap-up. It all started the previous episode with Johnny getting a brick thrown at his window, startling him and his boyfriend up, only for him to realize the brick had a letter attached to it. After a whole moment of Johnny throwing tantrums in the whole department, in front of the whole team, and after a horrendous goose-chase that makes Johnny believe he has a stalker that has known him for years, sending him in specific crime scenes he's been at before (he's fucking loving it, we all know it), he finally finds an empty storage unit with a chair and a single card sitting on it. A wedding invitation. Simon's and your wedding.

And so it begins the next episode, with a small wedding and I don't even know what sort of minor but funny inconveniences they'd have, the wedding goes on, and both Show!Simon and Show!You kiss under a beautiful tree, just family and close friends there to applaud you.

What the public took some time to find out (as the news came out AFTER the ending) was that the actors, Simon and You, real you, married on that set too! The random props? Actual family and friends, plus the people on set. Only the director knew and was fully on board by then.

Seasons of seeing you two dumb lovebirds, kinda awkward giant introvert that froze anytime you were around and you, a dumbass with a giant crush that was obvious to everyone in your close vicinity, absolutely almost sicken everyone with how cute you were. The whole crushing gave the director the idea, and it solidified as years passed. It was going to be very subtle things (stuff that even Simon and you helped create) and it worked wonderfully. By the ending of the first season, you two were dating in real life, and by the end of the whole show, you surprised everyone after the final "Cut!" of the wedding episode (there's always a wedding episode, huh?) by telling everyone that you two are now officially married!

I hope I made you smile and if you have any other silly ideas about this AU, Imma be reading the comments!

Like Price and Nik being married, and Nik being a firefighter, leading to many jokes about it.

Kate would work as a lawyer or even a judge. ("My wife" expert.)

The station having a fat cat as a pet that lurks around and it once threw Simon's stuff on the floor. He then adopted a retired bomb-sniffing dog and brought her around every so often just to piss off the cat. (He has issues with literally anyone and anything, you CANNOT TELL ME he isn't a petty old man).

Johnny is hella smart but in an ADHD way. Man's a natural with defusing bombs too and I feel he'd carry this show.

Gaz is the puzzle guy, like genuinely smart-ass about it too. Also a true crime watcher. He's at home in a silk robe watching serial killer documentaries.

[jzprncess]

max’s hair, max’s way

pairing: max verstappen x reader

oneshot

word count: 2,489

summary : Y/N discovers an AI image of Max Verstappen with long hair and can’t stop imagining how amazing he’d look with it. After dropping subtle hints, Max finally catches on and humorously entertains the idea. What follows is a hilarious, over-the-top obsession with starting a fan club—Max’s hair revolution is coming, whether he’s ready or not.

note : this one was actually quite easy to write but then again im just in a mood to write so i finished it in a few hours. this was a request that was submitted on my google forms!

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N’s day had been nothing short of a mess. She'd woken up late for a Zoom call, spilled coffee on her favorite sweatshirt (the one she swore was invincible to stains), and had yet another online shopping cart full of things she definitely didn’t need, but had to have. It wasn’t even noon, and she was already on her third attempt at taking a nap that didn’t feel like an awkward lie-down.

But there was one thing that had the potential to make it all better: mindless scrolling.

Her thumb lazily flicked through TikTok, her mind barely engaged as she watched videos that made zero sense, but for some reason, her brain processed them like essential information. It was supposed to be a five-minute break—a little escape before diving back into her ocean of responsibilities. She figured she'd scroll, mindlessly and aimlessly, just to silence the chaos in her head.

But then... she saw it.

It wasn’t some cute puppy video or a cooking hack that would forever change her life. No, no. It was something far more dangerous, far more potent, and absolutely life-changing.

Max Verstappen.

But not just any Max. No, this was an alternate universe Max—a Max created by the magical, terrifying powers of AI. The Max on her screen had hair that cascaded in long, perfect waves, the kind you could only dream about, or maybe see on a runway model. His sharp jawline was even more defined than usual (which shouldn’t be possible, but here we are), and his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—looked even more mysterious, as though he were a brooding poet in an indie movie. He was staring at her, but also not staring at her, if you know what she meant.

And then she saw it.

The hair.

Max’s new look was a cascade of locks that would make any shampoo ad jealous. It was silky, voluminous, perfectly tousled like he’d just walked out of a windstorm of pure glamor. It was glorious. It was breathtaking.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks. Her thumb froze mid-scroll. Her heart rate ticked up a few notches. Holy shit. She didn’t even care that she was in a coffee-stained hoodie and still hadn’t brushed her hair. Nothing mattered anymore, because here was Max Verstappen, looking like an absolute dreamboat in a way she never thought possible. This wasn’t the Max she’d seen on the racetrack—no, this was a Max that belonged in the front pages of a high fashion magazine, throwing a rebellious look over his shoulder like a 90s pop star.

She blinked, trying to process what she was seeing. Her fingers twitched, ready to swipe, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Max with long hair. Her mind couldn’t let go of the image. It was perfect. He was perfect.

She leaned closer to the screen, squinting to examine every glorious detail, every strand of hair that seemed to defy physics. Could he actually pull this off in real life? Her fingers hovered over the screenshot button for a moment before she snapped it without hesitation.

And then, she did what any sane person would do: she set the image as her phone wallpaper.

There was no going back now. She wasn’t just going to stare at this picture once and forget about it. No, Max Verstappen with long hair was going to become her new obsession. She’d stare at it every time she unlocked her phone, letting the image haunt her dreams. Maybe she’d make it her lock screen too, just to really solidify the insanity.

The idea of Max with long hair, that Max, consumed her. Every time she glanced at the picture, it felt like an out-of-body experience. Was this how people got obsessed with celebrity transformations? Because this was absolutely it. She wasn’t even mad about it. She was already thinking of all the ways she could drop this bombshell on Max—subtle, of course. It had to be subtle. But she had to let him know somehow.

“Maybe I could just send it to him,” she muttered aloud to no one. “No, no... way too obvious.”

A sly grin spread across her face. She wasn’t going to just send the picture. No, she had a better idea. Max wouldn’t even see it coming.

She looked at the time—still early afternoon. Plenty of time to start planning. Oh, this was going to be fun.

After setting the AI picture as her wallpaper for the seventh time that day, Y/N leaned back in her chair, the wheels in her mind turning at lightning speed.

She had the plan now. She wasn’t just going to sit back and hope Max would see the error of his short-haired ways. No, Y/N was going to subtly—so subtly—nudge him into realizing that long hair was, in fact, the future. She’d been around the block enough to know how to manipulate situations for her own personal benefit.

Okay, maybe "manipulate" was too harsh of a word, but it sounded cool.

“Step one,” she muttered to herself, “Casual comments.”

She scrolled through her texts, thinking about what would be the perfect, casual way to throw out the idea of hair transformation.

Max had no idea what was about to hit him.

Y/N had spent the better part of the evening staring at her phone, just waiting for Max to reply to her text. She had done it—sent the casual, completely not obvious message about how “some people” just looked so good with long hair. She leaned back in her chair, a deep sense of satisfaction settling in. There was no way Max could miss the hint. She had done it perfectly. It was subtle, yet not so subtle that it was too subtle. The emoji sealed the deal. 😏

Still, she couldn’t help herself. She had to check her phone again, just to make sure the message had landed.

The screen lit up with a notification from Max. Y/N’s heart did a little dance. Here we go. She clicked it open, already anticipating his response.

Max: "Haha, are you talking about me? I’m not sure I could pull off long hair..."

Y/N froze. The message was a lot more casual than she’d hoped for. She reread it, her eyes scanning for the tiniest hint of curiosity or intrigue, but all she found was... confusion?

What? She thought she’d laid it out perfectly. The whole mysterious vibe thing had been an obvious clue!

Still, she wasn’t going to give up. Not yet. The game had only just begun.

She sat there for a moment, staring at the screen like she was trying to solve an impossible puzzle. A plan. She needed a plan, and it needed to be more than just a text.

Her eyes darted around the room. The walls, the plants, the weirdly shaped lamp on her desk—all were silent witnesses to her genius, or lack thereof, depending on how things went. But then—a light bulb moment.

It was obvious. She wasn’t going to be able to hint at this through mere text alone. No, no. She needed to get creative. She needed to make him see it—to envision the hair that could change his life. This was the moment where her vision and Max’s reality collided.

A slow grin spread across Y/N’s face. She knew just what to do.

Step one: The Subtle Instagram Story.

It was genius. Max would never suspect it. After all, people posted memes, weird videos, and obscure thoughts all the time. But Y/N had something more—something that could convince him without even saying a word.

She snapped a picture of herself—looking effortlessly glamorous, of course—and started typing her story caption.

“Do you ever think about how long hair changes a whole vibe? Like, imagine you had long hair... just think about it... 🧐”

She paused, reading it over. Was this too much? Too obvious? Too ridiculous?

Nah. It was perfect.

She hit post and waited, staring at her phone screen as if it would reveal some deep, philosophical answer to the universe’s mysteries.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. She could practically feel the electricity buzzing in the air. She didn’t even know if Max was online, but her brain couldn’t shut down. The message was out there now. The seed had been planted. She was too far gone to back out now.

And then, a notification buzzed. It was from Max. She checked it eagerly.

Max: “Is this about me too? Because now I’m starting to wonder if I’m missing out on some kind of hair revolution."

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Was he actually considering it? No, no. He had to be messing with her. She stared at the message for a second longer than she should have, trying to decide if this was a real response or if she had somehow misinterpreted the whole thing.

No. He had to be getting it. She wasn’t backing down now. She had created a monster out of her own wild, absurd imagination, and it was all going exactly as planned.

She quickly typed back, a little too eagerly, but who could blame her?

Y/N: “Imagine the vibe, Max. Imagine the wind in your hair as you race, that confidence flowing through you. Like a whole new level of fabulous.”

There. That was perfect. She leaned back in her chair and waited for a response.

But of course, Max—being Max—didn’t make things easy.

Minutes passed. No reply.

Was he thinking about it? Was he in deep contemplation about whether he’d look good with long hair? Y/N felt like she might explode. Come on, Max. You’ve got this. Just admit it.

She stared at her screen until the words blurred together.

And then, finally, a message came in.

Max: "Alright, alright, I’ll admit it. I’m curious now. But do you really think I’d look good with long hair? I mean, I can’t picture it."

Y/N stared at her phone in disbelief.

This was it. This was her moment. He was actually questioning it. She could already hear the victory music playing in her head.

She took a deep breath, trying not to sound too smug.

Y/N: “Max, I’m telling you, it’s a whole vibe. You might just become the most iconic man in Formula 1 with long hair. People would talk about you for centuries.”

She added a winking emoji for good measure.

Max: “Centuries? Okay, now you’re definitely messing with me.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Oh, she was so close now.

After Max’s message came through, Y/N could barely contain herself. She wanted to scream, to do a victory dance, but instead, she opted for something slightly more composed: a dramatic flailing of her arms in the air and a loud, victorious "YES!" that echoed through her apartment like an over-the-top, one-woman celebration.

Max was actually considering it. He was at least open to the idea of long hair in the future.

This was the moment. She had won.

But the funniest part? Max wasn’t even aware of the scale of Y/N’s obsession. He was just playing along with her ridiculous game, unaware that she was about to go into full, borderline obsessive mode.

She stared at the text again, eyes wide, her heart racing. He was going to do it. One day—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but Max Verstappen would, in fact, grow out his hair. He was practically promising it.

Y/N’s mind whirled with a thousand thoughts, each one more absurd than the last. She could already picture it: Max, standing on the racetrack, hair flying dramatically behind him as he sped past everyone. She could already hear the cheers. It was happening.

She grabbed her phone with shaking hands, barely able to type a coherent message. It was one thing for her to joke about it. But the fact that Max had actually said he’d grow his hair out one day? She couldn’t be the only one who was excited about this.

Y/N: “Max... no joke, I’m going to lose it the day you show up with long hair. I’ll probably start a fan club or something. A whole movement. ‘Max’s Hair, Max’s Way.’ How does that sound?”

She hit send and then immediately regretted it. It sounded insane. What was wrong with her?

She stared at the message for a long moment, debating whether she should delete it or just let it be. But before she could decide, Max’s reply came in like a gift from the hair gods themselves.

Max: “I don’t know about a whole movement, but hey, if I ever grow it out, you can be the president of the fan club. Just... don’t make it too weird, alright?”

Y/N almost dropped her phone. President? He was serious about this. She had an actual title in the most bizarre, ridiculous movement of her life.

Wait. Make it too weird? Oh, Max. She had already made it weird.

She texted back, too quickly, as if he could see her grinning like a maniac.

Y/N: “Deal. I’ll make sure to have the first fan club meeting at your next race. You better be ready for it.”

Max: “I’ll be sure to bring my best hair flip to the race. It’s going to be legendary.”

Y/N clutched her phone to her chest like she had just received the greatest treasure in the world. This was happening. It was happening in the future. She couldn’t wait. The anticipation was going to drive her insane.

But right now? She was going to enjoy the chaos of it all. She leaned back in her chair, hands trembling as she stared at the screen, imagining all the memes, the fan art, the movement. And who knew? Maybe one day, Max Verstappen would really grow out his hair.

Until then, Y/N was going to spend the next few weeks plotting the perfect fan club logo.

And so, Y/N’s obsession grew, her fantasies becoming wilder by the day. Every time she heard a hair-related joke or saw a picture of someone with long hair, she’d start giggling to herself like a schoolgirl with a crush. It wasn’t about Max’s hair anymore; it was about the ridiculous movement she had created, a movement that only she truly understood.

As for Max? He was still blissfully unaware of the full extent of Y/N’s hair dreams, but every now and then, he’d shoot her a quick text.

Max: “So... I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe I’ll start growing it out... one day. You ready to lead the fan club?”

And Y/N would reply with a heart full of excitement and a mind full of absurd possibilities.

Max’s Hair, Max’s Way. It was only a matter of time before the world caught on to the movement.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

taglist : @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey @alex-wotton

[yassbishimvintage]

No Questions (Studio pt 3 )

MDNI!

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

A/N: This is for the grown and sexy. And I admit you might be slightly pissed with Amari.

Brendan was doing a small tour circuit in Chicago. She heard her phone ring. B had sent her a first class ticket to where he’s at. Amari’s eyes widened as she stared at the message that had just come through. She quickly unlocked her phone to see the ticket notification. It was a first-class plane ticket to the city Brendan was staying in, with the departure time only a few hours away.

She blinked a few times, reading the details again, still not quite processing what she was seeing. Brendan sent me a ticket?

Her mind raced. He had been in touch with her all week, sending sweet texts and checking in, but this—this felt like a bigger step. Was he trying to move things forward? Or was this just another grand gesture in a series of them?

She felt her heart start to race. On one hand, the idea of getting away for a little bit, having some time with Brendan, was tempting. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Things had been moving fast, and now this—an unexpected trip, an invitation to step into his world a little deeper. It was a lot to process.

A few minutes passed as she sat in silence, staring at the phone. She could feel her palms sweating, and the little voice in her head was growing louder, questioning everything.

Just as she was about to overthink herself into indecision, her phone buzzed again with another text from Brendan.

“I know you’re busy, but if you can, come visit. I’d love to have you here. It’s just you and me. No work, no distractions. Think about it, but don’t think too long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a warmth in his message, something that made her smile despite herself. She hadn’t expected him to make such a bold move, but it was clear he wanted her there.

Amari took a deep breath, her thoughts swirling. Could she go? Would this make things clearer between them, or would it complicate everything more?

She couldn’t help but feel a pull toward him. The way he made her feel—wanted, appreciated, understood. The idea of spending time with him without distractions sounded tempting, even if it came with its own set of risks.

With a small, determined sigh, Amari finally made her decision. She quickly typed out a reply.

“I’ll be there. I’m booking my flight now. Can’t wait to see you.”

She hit send, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she imagined what the next few days would bring.

-

Amari stepped off the plane, the cool air of Chicago greeting her as she made her way to baggage claim. The city’s skyline loomed in the distance, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. It had been a spontaneous decision, but now that she was here, she felt a rush of anticipation.

She pulled up the message from Brendan, confirming the hotel where he was staying, and made her way toward the car service waiting for her. She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts—her mind was too busy picturing what the next few hours would be like. The trip, the unspoken feelings, and the possibility of deepening their connection.

As she arrived at the hotel, the sleek, modern building towering before her, Amari’s heart picked up its pace. The lobby was immaculate, with polished floors and the faint scent of fresh flowers in the air. She walked up to the front desk and gave her name, her palms slightly clammy with the anticipation.

“Mr. Brendan’s expecting you,” the receptionist said with a warm smile before handing her the key to his suite. Amari took a deep breath, steadying herself as she walked toward the elevator.

When the doors opened to his floor, she could hear the faint hum of music from inside his suite. The familiar sound of Jacquees’ voice, one of his favorite artists, drifted through the cracks of the door. Amari smiled softly to herself—this was Brendan’s world, and she was about to step fully into it.

She knocked softly, waiting for him to answer. Her heart raced, each second feeling like it stretched into eternity. The door swung open, and there he was. Brendan, dressed casually, his hair slightly messy from a long day but still looking effortlessly good. His hazel eyes locked on hers, a playful smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he teased, his voice warm with a touch of relief. “Glad you decided to.”

Amari couldn’t help but grin back. “You made it hard to say no,” she said, stepping into his space.

Brendan reached out, taking her luggage and setting it aside before pulling her into a tight hug. She could feel his warmth, his strength, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just the two of them, here together.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured into her ear.

Amari pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “Me too.”

His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin as he looked at her with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine. It was a side of Brendan she hadn’t seen before—soft and affectionate, but with an intensity that felt real.

“Come on, let me show you around,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into the suite. It was spacious, with large windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The living area was comfortable yet luxurious, with a plush couch and a few personal touches scattered around—a couple of framed album covers, a guitar by the wall, and a few items that hinted at his musical life.

Amari let her gaze wander around the room, taking it all in. It was exactly as she imagined—stylish and lived-in, but still very much his. And now, it felt like a space she could share with him.

As Brendan showed her around, his presence felt grounding, and any lingering nerves began to melt away. They chatted about everything and nothing, finding comfort in the easy flow of their conversation.

After a while, Brendan moved toward the windows and gestured for her to come closer. “What do you think?” he asked, looking out at the sprawling city.

Amari joined him, her eyes tracing the lights below. “It’s beautiful. Big change from where I’m from, but I think I could get used to it.”

Brendan gave her a sly grin. “You might just get used to a lot of things while you’re here.”

Amari turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re right about that.”

The chemistry between them was undeniable, and as they stood there, the air between them felt charged with the unspoken possibilities of what could come next.

Brendan looked at her, his expression softening. “I’m glad you’re here, Mari. Let’s just enjoy the time we have together.”

Amari nodded, her heart swelling. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a while, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As Brendan kisses Amari softly, the connection between them deepens, and the tension that’s been building between them over the last few days is finally released in the warmth of the moment. His hand gently cups her face, his thumb tracing her jawline as their lips meet. The kiss is slow, deliberate—he wants to savor it, to let the uncertainty of their situation melt away, even if just for a while.

Amari, her heart racing, responds in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. It's the first time they've been so close since they both agreed to take things slow, and yet, the pull between them is undeniable.

As they pull back, she looks into his eyes, her breath shallow. "You sure this is what you want, B?" she asks softly, the hint of concern still lingering in her voice.

Brendan pauses, his gaze steady as he cups her face with both hands. "I'm sure," he says, his voice low and sincere. "With you, I’m sure."

He presses his forehead against hers. “Why are you so anxious about this relationship? You’re my girl.” He says.

Amari’s breath hitches at his words, her heart fluttering as his forehead presses against hers. His reassurance seems to ground her, but there’s still a gnawing hesitation within her. She lets out a quiet sigh, her hands resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

“I’m not anxious,” she begins, though the words feel less convincing than she intended. “It’s just... everything’s moving so fast. I don’t know if it’s just the thrill or something real.” She looks into his eyes, searching for answers, for something she can hold onto.

Brendan’s expression softens, and he gently tilts her chin up, guiding her to meet his gaze. “Mari,” he says, his voice calm yet firm, “it’s real. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. You’re not just some fling or a distraction. I want you. All of you.”

Amari swallows, her eyes glistening as she searches his face. It’s hard for her to fully let go of her doubts—after all, she’s been burned before, and trusting someone in his position felt like walking a fine line between security and instability.

But there’s something in the way he holds her, the way he’s always made her feel seen. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust this. Trust him.

“I just...” she starts again, her voice quieter, “I don’t want to lose what we have. This feels different, B.”

His smile softens, and he leans in to kiss her forehead gently. “You won’t lose me, Mari. I’ve got you. Always.”

He smiles. “Jump.” He says softly. She does and wraps her legs around his waist. This always made her feel safe.

Brendan’s arms immediately wrap around her, holding her securely as she jumps into him. Her legs instinctively encircle his waist, and she feels the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. There’s something so grounding about this moment, about the way he makes her feel like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Her head rests against his shoulder, and she lets out a content sigh. The world outside might be fast-paced and uncertain, but right now, in his arms, everything feels calm, safe, and real.

Brendan chuckles softly, his voice a low hum against her ear. “I’ve got you, Mari. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with me.”

Amari smiles, her hands gently trailing down his back. “I know. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? But... when I’m like this, with you, I feel like everything will be okay.”

He tightens his hold on her for a moment, a silent promise passing between them. “That’s because it will be. We’ve got this, together.” He leans back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes, his gaze warm and steady. “You don’t have to carry all that weight by yourself. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Amari’s heart swells, and she leans in to kiss him softly, grateful for his reassurance, for his presence in her life. For the first time in a while, she feels like she can truly exhale.

“Mari. You’re my home.” He says softly. Amari feels a warmth spread through her chest as his words sink in. "Home..." she whispers, the weight of his sentiment grounding her in a way nothing else could.

She pulls back slightly, searching his eyes to make sure she’s hearing him right. His gaze is steady, sincere, and filled with an intimacy she didn’t expect but deeply needed.

"I never thought I’d find that," she admits softly, her voice trembling just a little. "But when I’m with you, it’s like everything else just fades away. I feel like I belong. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be."

Brendan smiles, his hand cupping her cheek as he leans in to kiss her gently, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without saying a word. When he pulls back, his voice is low but firm. "You do belong, Mari. With me. Always."

Her heart races, and she lets herself fall into the moment, feeling the weight of his words, the certainty in his touch. This is it—this is what she’s been searching for. A place, a person who makes everything feel like it’s falling into place.

With a soft smile, she rests her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I’m home too, B," she murmurs, closing her eyes, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over her. "I’m home with you."

“You better make this worth it. I had to cancel the rest of my appointments today.” She says.

Brendan chuckles softly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he adjusts his grip on her. "I’ll make it worth it, trust me." His voice is laced with a playful confidence that’s impossible to ignore. "You know I’m all about keeping my promises."

He slowly carries her to the couch, settling down with her in his lap, his hands tracing gentle patterns along her skin. The atmosphere between them shifts, an unspoken understanding passing through the air. It's more than just the physical chemistry that fuels this connection—it’s the quiet moments like these, where everything else fades into the background, and it’s just the two of them.

"You’ve worked hard, Mari," he says, his fingers dancing over her shoulders, massaging out the tension in her muscles. "You deserve a break. And I plan on giving you one... in every way possible."

She tilts her head back, allowing herself to relax into him. "You better," she says with a teasing smile, her voice soft but filled with that signature challenge she always throws his way. "I’m counting on you."

Brendan laughs softly, his lips curling into a grin. "Consider it done."

As they settle into the quiet comfort of the moment, Amari allows herself to let go, trusting in him to make this day, this time, worth every bit of the sacrifice she made. It feels right. She feels right. And for once, she’s letting herself simply enjoy it.

-

Amari slowly wakes up, the soft hotel sheets tangled around her as she stirs. The light filtering in from the window feels warm against her skin, but there's a strange emptiness in the room. She glances around, expecting to see Brendan by her side, but the bed is empty.

Confused, she stretches, trying to recall the events of last night, but everything feels a bit foggy—too much passion, too much heat. Still, she can't help but feel a tinge of unease as she notices the absence of his familiar presence.

She sits up, the cool air from the room hitting her skin as she checks the time on her phone. No messages, no calls. Her thoughts race—was it just a fleeting moment for him? Did he leave without a word?

Despite the confusion, Amari forces herself to shake it off. She quickly gets dressed, trying to push aside the doubts that are slowly creeping in. As she steps out into the hotel hallway, she hopes to find him, maybe to ask what happened, or maybe just to confirm that last night wasn’t something he wanted to erase.

Before she could she sees a card and another box on the table.

Amari pauses in the hallway, her eyes landing on the card and the box placed neatly on the table by the door. She feels a wave of curiosity wash over her as she approaches, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the card before she picks it up.

The card is simple—elegant with clean lines, and inside, written in Brendan’s familiar script, are a few words:

"I didn’t mean to leave you with so many questions. Let me explain when I get back. Enjoy the gift, it's a token of my appreciation for you. See you soon, B."

A sigh escapes her lips, the tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. He didn’t just leave without a word—he left a message, and it seemed genuine. But her mind still churns with questions. Why had he left so suddenly? Why didn’t he wake her?

Her attention shifts to the box beside the card. It’s carefully wrapped in sleek black paper with a metallic gold ribbon tied around it. A pang of uncertainty stirs in her chest, but she can’t help herself—she carefully unwraps the box, revealing a small velvet jewelry case inside.

Amari slowly opens it, her breath catching in her throat when she sees what’s inside—a delicate necklace with a custom pendant that reads "Mari" in elegant script. The sentiment is clear: this isn’t just a typical gift; it’s personal, thoughtful, and carries weight.

She runs her fingers over the pendant, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She feels touched but also unsure. What does this mean for them? Why does he feel the need to give her this now?

Amari sits down on the couch, the necklace still clutched in her hand as her mind races. She looks down at the pendant, tracing the curves of the letters with her fingertips. Her thoughts spiral, a jumble of emotions swirling together, making it hard to focus on any one feeling.

Why am I second-guessing this? she thinks, biting her lip as she reflects on everything that’s happened between her and Brendan.

At first, it all seemed effortless. There was chemistry, an undeniable pull that had brought them together so naturally. He was charming, funny, and caring when he wanted to be. But then there were the moments that gave her pause—the moments where he would vanish, or leave without a word, like last night. And the times he’d get distant or act like he was keeping a part of himself hidden. She had always told herself that she didn’t need to be the one to ask for explanations, but now she’s beginning to question if that was the right approach.

Is this just a whirlwind romance, or am I setting myself up for something deeper? she wonders. She feels a tension between what she knows—how much she cares for him—and the uncertainties that keep cropping up. She remembers how she told herself she wouldn’t let someone into her heart so easily again after her past. But with Brendan, it felt different. Or maybe it’s the fear of it not being different enough.

Am I falling for someone who isn’t ready to commit, or am I just overthinking things? The doubts cling to her thoughts like a fog, heavy and lingering.

Her phone buzzes in her lap, snapping her out of her reverie. It’s a text from Brendan.

"Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."

She stares at the message, her heart fluttering a bit at his words. Yet the feeling of uncertainty remains. Does he really mean it? Or is this just another fleeting moment in the rollercoaster of their relationship?

Amari sighs and drops the phone on the couch beside her, leaning back with her hand still wrapped around the necklace.

She wishes she could just have clarity. A sense of what’s real and what’s fleeting. The trust they shared feels genuine, but the insecurity in the pit of her stomach is hard to ignore.

When Brendan walks through the door that evening, Amari is still sitting on the couch, lost in her thoughts. The sound of his keys hitting the counter draws her attention, and before she can fully process it, he’s already crossing the room toward her.

He pulls her up from the couch and wraps his arms tightly around her, enveloping her in his warmth. His chin rests gently on her head, and she feels the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath.

"I missed you," he murmurs softly into her hair, his voice steady and reassuring.

For a moment, Amari lets herself melt into his embrace. The doubts and questions swirling in her mind feel smaller when she’s in his arms. His hug is grounding, like an anchor holding her steady against the tide of her own thoughts.

"You okay, Mari?" he asks, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. His hazel gaze searches her face, concern etched into his features.

She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid her voice might betray the mix of emotions she’s feeling. Brendan tilts his head, clearly not convinced.

"You’ve been quiet all day," he says, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Talk to me. What’s on your mind?"

Amari hesitates, biting her lip as she considers whether now is the right time to bring up her feelings. But the tenderness in his eyes gives her a small push of courage.

"I just..." she starts, her voice soft. "I’ve been thinking about us. About where this is going."

Brendan frowns slightly, his hands still resting on her waist. "What do you mean? Did I do something to make you doubt how I feel about you?"

"It’s not just about you," she says quickly, shaking her head. "It’s me, too. I’m trying to figure out if I’m... ready for all of this. For us. Sometimes it feels like we’re moving so fast, and I’m scared I might get hurt."

Brendan’s expression softens, and he pulls her back into his arms, holding her even tighter this time. "Mari," he says, his voice steady but full of emotion. "You’re my girl. I don’t want you to feel like you have to question that. I know I’m not perfect, and yeah, this might be moving fast, but I don’t take what we have lightly. You’re not just someone to me. You’re everything."

His words hit her like a wave, washing over her doubts and leaving her feeling raw but reassured. She exhales deeply, letting herself sink into him again.

"I don’t want to lose you," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You won’t," Brendan says firmly. "I’m not going anywhere, Mari. We’ll figure this out together. One step at a time."

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, she decides to trust him. To trust them. Maybe it’s not all clear right now, but it doesn’t have to be. She just has to take it one step at a time, like he said.

Brendan pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on Amari's waist as he locks eyes with her. His tone is firm but gentle, grounding her in the moment.

"Amari," he says, his hazel eyes steady and unwavering. "We discussed this. I’m your boyfriend. You’re my girlfriend. That hasn’t changed. It won’t change."

She opens her mouth to respond but finds herself at a loss for words. The certainty in his voice, the way he says it like it’s the most obvious truth in the world, makes her chest tighten.

"I know," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s just..."

"It’s just what?" he presses softly, tilting his head as he studies her. "Tell me, baby. Don’t hold back."

Amari sighs, running a hand through her curls. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough for you. Your life is... big, B. You’re everywhere. Everyone knows you. And me? I’m just..."

"You’re just the woman I want," he interrupts firmly, cupping her face in his hands. "I don’t care about the rest. All of that—my career, the fame, the noise—it’s nothing if I don’t have you to come home to."

Her breath hitches, and she searches his face for any sign of doubt, but there’s none. Just honesty.

"You’re more than enough, Mari," he continues. "You’ve always been enough. And if you’re ever feeling like this again, you tell me, alright? I don’t want you sitting in your head overthinking. We’re in this together."

Amari swallows hard, nodding as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. "Okay," she whispers.

"Good," Brendan says, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "Because you’re stuck with me now. No take-backs."

That earns a soft laugh from her, and she leans into him, resting her forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around her again, holding her close, and for the first time in days, she feels the weight in her chest begin to lift.

Brendan's voice drops to a low, teasing murmur as his lips trail along the curve of Amari's neck. "Now," he begins, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine, "I have a way of enjoying you while we’re here."

Amari tilts her head slightly, giving him more access as her hands rest on his chest. "Oh, really?" she asks, her voice soft but laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

His lips curve into a smirk against her skin before he presses a series of slow, deliberate kisses along her collarbone. "Mhm," he hums. "No distractions, no interruptions—just you and me."

Amari’s fingers trail up to his shoulders, her heart pounding at the intensity in his voice. "And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Superstar?" she teases, though her breath hitches as he continues his exploration.

Brendan pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his hazel eyes darkening with intent. "It means I want to focus on you, Mari. No cameras, no schedules, no outside noise. Just us, in this moment."

Her cheeks flush at the sincerity in his tone, and she bites her lip to suppress a smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

He chuckles, his hands sliding down to her waist as he pulls her closer. "Then let me show you," he whispers, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s slow, deep, and filled with all the promises he doesn’t need words to express.

-

Amari stirs under the covers, her body still warm and buzzing from the hours spent with Brendan. She glances over at him, sprawled out beside her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A faint smile plays on her lips as she takes in his peaceful expression.

Then, the sharp buzz of his phone cuts through the quiet. Amari sighs, her muscles sore but satisfied, as she reaches over to the nightstand. "B," she murmurs softly, nudging his arm.

He groans in response, eyes barely cracking open. "What is it, baby?" he mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

"Your phone's going off," she says, holding it out to him. "Might be important."

Brendan takes the phone, squinting at the screen. His brows furrow as he reads the message, and he sits up slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"Everything okay?" Amari asks, her tone laced with curiosity and a touch of concern.

He sighs, placing the phone back on the nightstand. "Just my manager," he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Nothing that can’t wait till morning."

Amari relaxes, her smile returning. "Good," she whispers, pulling him back down beside her. "Because I wasn’t done cuddling you yet."

Brendan chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "You’re gonna ruin me, Mari," he says with a soft laugh.

"Guess we’re even then," she quips, burying her face in his chest.

Amari hears her phone buzz on the night stand. She opens her phone. And she sees she’s been tagged in a photo by Brendan. Coming from his stage page. It’s a picture of her on his bare chest sleep.

Amari’s heart skips a beat as she unlocks her phone and opens the notification. There it is—a photo Brendan posted from his official stage account. In the picture, she’s peacefully asleep, her head resting on his bare chest, the soft lighting in the room casting a serene glow over the intimate moment.

The caption reads: "My peace. My girl. 🖤 #NoQuestions"

Her eyes widen, and a mix of emotions floods her—surprise, embarrassment, and a strange, undeniable warmth. Brendan is private, especially when it comes to his personal life. For him to post something so intimate on his public page felt... monumental.

Amari’s cheeks flush as she glances at Brendan, who’s now propped up on his elbow, watching her reaction with a sly grin.

"You posted that?" she asks, holding the phone up.

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "What? I can’t let the world know I got the baddest girl out there?"

She shakes her head, biting her lip to suppress a smile. "B... you know your fans are going to have a field day with this, right?"

He leans closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Let them. I want everyone to know who I come home to."

Amari sighs, leaning into his touch. "You’re really trying to make me fall even harder for you, huh?"

"That’s the plan," he says with a wink, pulling her into a kiss.

She was scrolling through the pictures. She stopped on the last one. Curious, Amari scrolls back to the last photo and reads the caption Brendan had posted beneath it:

"When she’s your peace and your muse all in one. #MyQueen #NoQuestions #AmariAndB"

Her lips part slightly as she rereads the words, her heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t just the pictures—he had put her at the center of his world, publicly claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt.

She glances over at Brendan, who’s lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone as if he hadn’t just sent the internet into a frenzy.

"B," she starts softly, catching his attention. "This caption..."

He looks up, his hazel eyes meeting hers with a calm intensity. "What about it?"

"It’s... a lot," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "You’re really putting us out there like this."

Brendan sets his phone down and shifts to face her fully. "Amari, I don’t do anything halfway. You’re it for me. If the world knows it, then good. I’m not about to hide how I feel about you."

Her eyes soften as she takes in his sincerity. "You’re sure about this?"

He cups her face, brushing his thumb along her cheek. "More sure than I’ve ever been about anything. You’re my peace, Mari. And I want everyone to know it."

She exhales deeply, her chest swelling with emotion. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?"

Brendan chuckles, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Only because you are."

She smiles, resting her forehead against his. "Alright, fine. But if this blows up, you’re the one answering all the comments."

"Deal," he says with a smirk. "As long as I get to keep posting you."

Amari shakes her head with a laugh, knowing she’s already lost this battle. "You’re impossible, B."

"And you love it," he counters, pulling her into his arms.

She lets herself melt into him, silently admitting he’s right.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @notpradagurl7 @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend- Jschlatt

Part 6

Masterlist

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Schlatt wakes up with the worst pounding headache he has ever had. He can’t remember most of last night, but he feels like something happened. He looks over at his nightstand and sees a glass of water, two pills, his phone and a note. The note reads, “Here’s some advil, you’re going to need it. Call me when you are less hungover!”

He can tell by the curly handwriting that you wrote the note. Part of him wished you would have stayed with him. He wanted to cuddle with you again or at least have you cuddle with the cats. He’s worried that he fucked something up, but he’s not sure what he did.

Before he calls you, he calls Mika. “Hey man! How are you feeling?” Mika answers, a little too loud for Schlatt’s liking.

“Shitty. What happened last night?” Schlatt asks, rubbing his forehead.

“You don’t remember do you? You sang Creep for (Y/N), but I don’t think they got the message. Then when you guys left, I think they were crying. You were so drunk, they were dragging you around.”

Schlatt remembers singing Creep and it not exactly going as he planned. That is why he took so many shots. He wanted to forget your confusion and the way you were talking to a random guy. “Why were they crying?”

“I’m not sure. They tried to tell us they weren’t. Maybe you should ask them.”

“Alright, thanks. Have a great show tonight,” Schlatt hangs up.

He knows he needs to call you, but he wants to delay the inevitable of whatever happened. He takes the advil you laid out and goes to check on the cats. Schlatt feeds them, hoping his hangover will go away soon.

After a few hours of laying around, Schlatt starts feeling better. He picks up his phone and sees his Lock Screen of the two of you. It was a photo taken when he moved back to New York. The two of you had decided to go out to stay inside and play Mario Kart like most days. You made him take a selfie with you as a bet. You told him if you won the next two games, he had to take a selfie with you. He reluctantly smiled when you took the picture. However, when he saw the picture, he made you send it to him then it immediately became his Lock Screen.

Looking at the two of you happy, made his heart swell. He longed for moments like this where you two were just happy. He wished that he could spend every moment with you. He didn’t care if you two were together or not. He just wanted to be near you always.

Schlatt bites the bullet and calls your number. “Hi,” you let out when he answers. He doesn’t know why but you sound tired and sad. He hopes you’re okay.

“Hey you wanted me to call you when I was less hungover and I’m less hungover,” he tells you.

“Okay. Can I come over? This may be a better conversation in person.”

“Of course. My door is always open for you.”

He hears you hang up and waits for your arrival. He is curious as to what the conversation is and why it needed to be in person. His anxiety is filling his brain with all the worst possibilities.

As he is worrying, the doorbell rings. He rushes to get the door. He sees you staring there with your hair pulled up and wearing his hoodie. You look even more tired than you sounded on the phone. the sight made him want to pull you into a hug. “Come in,” he tells you, leading you to sit on the couch.

You sit down beside him but put a bit of space between you two. You sigh before asking, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really. The last thing I remember is singing, but that’s about it.”

You nod. “You told me something last night. Something that sober Schlatt might not have told me.” You look up at him.

Oh shit. He didn't, did he? “What did drunk Schlatt tell you?”

“You told me you loved me and not like a friendly love. You told me you were in love with me,” you tell him.

He looks at you horrified trying to read your face. He wonders what you thought about it. Probably bad based upon your appearance. “I’m sorry (Y/N). I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I couldn’t. I knew you wouldn’t feel the same and I didn’t want to lose you,” Schlatt rambles.

You grab his hand. “I never said I didn’t feel the same. That's the problem. I don’t know how I feel. I love you so so much, but I never thought about loving you like that. I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just saying I never thought about it. I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know what it feels like.”

He nods. “Is there anything I could do to help you? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“No, I’m glad you told me. I think you would have hurt yourself more if you kept it to yourself,” you tell him. “This might be crazy, but maybe you should kiss me.”

His eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Kiss me. Maybe if you kiss me, it will all make sense. That’s what happens in movies. I know this is real life, but maybe it’s worth a shot.”

Before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. He feels you immediately kiss him back. He has been waiting for this moment forever and actually experiencing it doesn’t feel real. He pulls you closer to him, needing you as close as possible.

You pull away slightly to catch your breath. “Woah. That was,” you start, not finding the right words.

Schlatt nods, reading your mind. “Did that help you at all?” He asks, lightly brushing a piece of hair that had fallen behind your ear.

“Maybe. Maybe you need to kiss me again to really be sure,” you tease.

“Don’t tempt me Toots. I’ll kiss you all damn day if I have to.” He could kiss you forever, it seems. He would quit making videos if I meant spending the day making out with you.

“I liked it a lot. I haven’t kissed many people, but it never felt like that. Is it supposed to feel electric? I feel like if I touch my lips, I’m going to shock myself.”

“I think that’s what they call sparks, Darling,” he smirks at you. “Don’t worry I felt them too.”

You smile at him. “What does this mean for us?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything but I want it too. We will still be best friends no matter what happens. Honestly, nothing would be different other than we kiss and maybe do more if you’re up for it,” he assures you. Schlatt would love to do more with you, but he doesn’t want to push you in any way.

You nod. “What does that make us though? Friends who make out with each other? Partners?”

“We can be whatever you want us to be. I would like to be partners personally, but if you aren’t ready for that, that’s okay. I just want to do whatever makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He questions.

“For being you and being so understanding. I would like to be partners too, but can we keep it between us? I want it to be our thing,” you ask him.

Schlatt wishes he could shout that you feel the same from the rooftops, but he wants what makes you happy. “Of course. Whatever you want, Bub.”

“Can you kiss me again?”

“You don’t have to ask,” he laughs, kissing you again. He grabs you by your hips to place you on his lap. Schlatt deepens the kiss by pulling you somehow closer to him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, causing your mouth to open slightly. As soon as you open up, his tongue is immediately in your mouth.

Schlatt pulls away and his mouth immediately goes to your neck. Being with you like this is better than he would have ever thought. The way you are putty in his hands makes him want you more. He starts kissing your neck, enjoying the sounds escaping your lips. “Jay,” you breathe out.

He starts lightly sucking just below your ear. He presses a soft kiss on the spot he left before kissing your lips again. The kiss gets heated rather quickly.

After what feels like hours, Schlatt finally pulls away from you. Your forehead falls on his as you both work to catch your breath. You both smile at each other. “Why are we only doing this now?” You ask.

Schlatt lets out a small laugh. “Well I’ve been thinking about it for years,” he tells you, kissing your nose.

“How long have you known?” You ask him.

“I think I’ve always been in love with you, but I really felt it when I moved away. I remember doing an episode of Love or Host and thinking it was all bullshit. My love was in New York. I didn’t need some stupid twitch streamer. I know it was all for content, but all I could think about was you. After a bit of suffering in Austin, I knew I had to come back home to you,” Schlatt admits. It feels good to fully get it off of his chest.

Tears start welling in your eyes. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I have been so oblivious about your feelings. I’m happy I know now though.”

Schlatt wipes a few of your stray tears. “We have plenty of time to be together. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

You smile at him. “Just so you know, you’re never getting this hoodie back. It’s too comfortable,” you tell him.

He puts the hood on your head. “You keep it. It looks way better on you anyways.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that. Just be warned if all your hoodies and sweatshirts go missing,” you tell him.

He laughs a bit at you. “Want to watch a movie? You can pick,” he asks.

“Mamma Mia,” you suggest.

Schlatt knows better than to say no to you, so he immediately turns the movie on. As soon as the movie starts, he pulls you into him. You lay your head on his chest and he kisses the top of your head. He feels so content in this moment like everything in his life had finally fallen into place. He holds you close, never wanting to let you go. “I love you,” he finally says out loud.

“I love you too, Jay,” you tell him. Schlatt smiles to himself, knowing there were going to be many nights like this from now on

A/N: Ahh this series has finally come to a close! I do plan to write a one off smut and I’ll write maybe some one shot stuff. Thank you so much for enjoying this story! I’m grateful for all of you! My asks are open for other reqs!

[tarta-de-limon]

Ok, now I can't stop thinking about this, damnit.

Now look, idk if in the comics is said how Dick figured Jason was red hood (not that I know)

But, like, I have this scenario in my mind I CAN'T STOP;

See, Jason notices his helmet is starting to crack but he pays no mind because, surely the cracks are superficial, right? WRONG. One night while he's fighting Nightwing he punches right were the cracks are and BUM, his stupid helmet breaks. Dick is too stunned to speak, and Jason? Of course he fucking leaves the scene. But of course Dick follow him.

I can imagine Dick chasing Jason until he finally catches him, pinning him down and he's like;

"Jason, it's really you, isn't it?" And Jason is like; GET OFF ME!

But Dick hugs him and even tho Jason is trying to push him away Dick just clings to him and keeps whispering things like: oh my god, you're alive, you're alive.

Jason tries to ignore the way he's running his hand through his hair, or the way he's holding him so tightly but gently, as if he were precious or something.

He manages to break free and runs away. Dick follows him, again, and this time, Jason doesn't stop or tries to loose him.

I can picture Dick pestering Jason, like I at first thought, but I have THIS ONE SCENE;

------

"...I can't believe you're alive," Dick said, his voice almost dreamy as he sighed. He said it everytime there was silence between them—which honestly, was way too often.

Jason buries his face in the palms of his hands, letting out a sigh as he tries not to snap. He had already snapped at him, and all he got in response was that annoying smile of his.

"Yeah. I know. You've been saying that ever since you found out." If he wasn't wearing his helmet, he would be pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, can‘t get over it," Dick said, shamelessly. Just to get on his baby’s nerves a bit more.

He went to stand beside him, looking at the table with the different maps, names and photographs. "What ya’ doing?"

He knew perfectly well what Jason was doing, probably scheming some 'evil plan', but his brain just couldn't stop finding excuses to start a conversation.

Jason buries his face in his hands further. Really, how did things end up this way?

That day he had seen his helmet had some cracks but he thought they were nothing, he thought they were superficial. Then Dick hits just where the cracks are and it breaks.

And then he's sobbing in his shoulder and he's trying to get away. And now he has this pest.

"Why ya wanna know?" he asked, his voice tired. "What, ya gonna go tell the old man? Trying to get some useful information to tell him?" Jason was convinced he was there to spy on him, or maybe this was the old man's —Batman's— strategy to ruin all his plans.

"Nope, I just wanna talk," Dick said, his tone gentle. He raised one hand, reaching over to him, but not touching him in case he got irritated —even though he really wanted to. Instead of placing it on Jason's shoulder, he rested his hand on the chair.

"And no, not going to tell him anything," he added, watching him. "Just making conversation, trying to catch up with my Little Wing’s life".

Jason just sighs again, tired of everything, tired of this annoying dickhead that won't stop pestering him.

He takes his helmet off, and he can feel Dick's eyes on him all the way. He knows he's staring, and he knows the bastard is too shameless to even try to hide it.

He didn't even noticed when he got closer, or when he reached out to cup his cheek, to trace the scars in his face. Either way, Jason didn't move away. Maybe a part of him accepted the fact that he needed a gentle touch, as little as it was.

"... I'm so proud of you, Little Wing," Dick suddenly said. Jason couldn't understand; he had killed, he was a criminal, how could he say that so...so genuinely?

He scoffed.

"... You'll betray me," Jason mumbled, looking away, "everyone does."

Who he thought was his biological mother, Bruce, Talia...and eventually, Dick would, too.

"I would never do that, Little Wing. Never." Dick swore.

-----

BUT THEN, THEN, THEN JASON ATTACKS TIM, AND HE'S ABOUT TO SHOOT, AND DICK IS THERE, AND DICK ONLY HAS A GUN AT HAND, AND HE MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN TIM AND JASON, AND HE CAN'T THINK AND HE SHOOTS JASON.

HE'S HORRIFIED, SHOCKED, BUT JASON, HE HAS THIS LOOK THAT IS LIKE; oh...You actually betrayed me.

AND THEN, THEN HE'S SENT TO ARKHAM ASYLUM, AND DICK VISITS AND HE'S LIKE: I'M SO SORRY LITTLE WING, I'M SO SORRY.

BUT JASON DOESN'T SPEAK, HE DOESN'T EVEN LOOK AT HIM IN THE EYES BECAUSE, BECAUSE HE'S SO DAMN HURT, BECAUSE HE MADE HIM BELIEVE HE WOULDN'T BETRAY HIM AND THEN BETRAYED HIM LIKE EVERYONE.

ANd I don't like the canon that Talia abused Jason, I don't consider it canon, BUT I'LL TAKE IT HERE BECAUSE I WANT MORE REASONS FOR JASON RO BE SO DISTRUSTFUL.

AND THEN, THEN JASON ESCAPES ARKHAM BUT HE DOESN'T GO BACK TO BEING RED HOOD.

No one knows where he is now.

I SUCK AT WRITING, I KNOW, BUT, BUT, IF SOMEONE KNOWS HOW TO WRITE AND LIKES THE IDEA, YOU CAN TAKE IT, TAKE IT AND DO SOMETHING FABULOUS WITH IT 😭😭😭😭😭

Had this idea, idk if someone else thought about it. Nightwing finds out who Red Hood is, but instead of going against him, clings to him with dear life because, that's his baby right there!?!?!? The baby he thought he lost!?!?!?

And Jason is not having it. He'll be trying to scheme something and Dick will be like; Jason, bedtime!

He's convinced Dick is damn crazy because, HELLO I JUST KILLED A MAN?

And dick is like: haha. Oh, you little rascal. Don't do it again, alright, you little troublemaker?

Jason surrenders. He prefers to go to Arkham asylum, rather than having to tolerate one single second with Dick clinging to him.

Yeah, I know it's not very canon, but when I thought about it it made me laugh.

[mulloey]

clever girl • teaser

coming 25.01.13

mafia!ateez x undercover detective!reader. seonghwa&yunho-centric.

words: 7.5k

nsfw. dark & explicit content.

teaser warnings: mentions of gangs, death violence and prostitution.

hate is blocked.

-

The further you venture into the building, your heart pounding heavier and heavier with each step, the nicer it becomes. When you step into the elevator, far cleaner and more richly decorated than the front of the building, it becomes clear that the first part of your mission — breaching the restricted area — has been successful.

You step out on the top floor and the difference is obvious; polished floors and hallways lined with mirrors, paintings and flowers show you this is a part of the building few will ever see. This is the bosses’ part. Ateez’s part.

Breathing shakily, you knock on the doorbell the way you’d been instructed— five times, with a gap between the third and fourth. You hear hushed voices before the door opens seemingly on its own, revealing the lavish interiors of the leaders’ apartments. It’s richly decorated with a dark, oak theme, and there’s not a person in sight.

“Hello?” You call out. Your voice almost seems to echo in the vast emptiness of the penthouse. “I’m here to see the Owners? Binwoo sent me.”

Silence abounds and then, just as you start to worry this has all been a big set-up to take out the only detective who’s gotten remotely close to the group, someone emerges. You recognise him instantly as the leader, Hongjoong. You’ve only seen him in surveillance, and very scarcely; the only time he ever seems to leave this place is when someone pisses him off so badly he decides to deal with them himself, so naturally the majority of your surveillance of him has been of torture and murder and pain. Seeing him in front of you now, not as tall as he looked from afar yet somehow even more imposing, those images of him — the things you’ve seen him do — play on repeat in your head.

When he raises a hand to wave at you, all you can picture is the black leather gloves he wears while he brutalises, covered in blood. Your blood, if this doesn’t go well. There’s a reason, you think, that the employees who don’t know this man’s name and thus resort to nicknames, have settled on The Butcher.

You gulp as you wave back. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake. “Hello, sir,” you greet. You bow politely, trying not to let on to the fact that you have any knowledge of who this man is or what he’s capable of. “I was sent by Binwoo to entertain you.”

He cocks an eyebrow, staring you up and down. “He did say he had someone for us,” he says. This is the first time you’ve heard his voice clearly, and you have to stop yourself from looking surprised at how… normal he sounds. Like a regular guy in his 20s, really— certainly not the monster you know him to be. In another situation, you think you’d quite like his voice. It’s gentle and welcoming and you could even see yourself getting flustered by it; but instead the voice, the man, everything about this moment, fills you with terror.

“Yes, sir. That was me.” You try your best to sound seductive, or even just normal, but you’re not sure if he buys it.

He stares at you for a few seconds, eyes narrowed. “Take off your jacket,” he orders. Fear pulsates as you obey; you note that his voice is deeper than before. You hope it’s arousal, or even curiosity. Anything but what you’re fearing it to be.

You take off your jacket as quickly as possible, hanging it up on the hanger next to the door as he instructs you. You stand in place, hands by your sides like your informant, Binwoo, had told you he teaches his girls to do. Wearing only your dress and heels, you feel more exposed and vulnerable than ever.

He stares at you for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “I’m Hongjoong,” he smiles. “What should I call you?”

You don’t think about your answer; you’d come up with a name while planning this mission, just as you always do. “Mira.”

He cocks an eyebrow, sceptical, but nods. It’s not uncommon for prostitutes to give a fake name, particularly in circles like this, so your obvious moniker shouldn’t be a problem unless he figures out the real reason you’re using it. You pray he doesn’t.

“Very well, ‘Mira’,” he grins. “I’ll take you to the others. They’re waiting for you.”

-

thoughts appreciated. this will be a dark, intense dubcon fic, so be mindful of that. reblogs and comments appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

[percywinchester27]

The new Mrs. Winchester (19)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: A huge shoutout to all my wonderful readers! Your support and love keeps me going! <3

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23

“You can’t kick 'em in the nuts and make a run for it?” The girl in the next cell asked.

“Not if you want to avoid getting beaten into a pulp,” you told her through a mouthful of bread and tomato. “There’s always a guard outside the door.”

“Kick 'em in the nuts, too.”

You snorted so hard, bits of tomato landed on the floor.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “There are fancy rooms upstairs with wardrobes full of fancy clothes that you have to wear and then they take you to other fancy places for men–”

“Sometimes it’s just the fancy rooms overhead. Men come here, too.”

“But they take you out, don’t they?” She argued. “Just go to a reception and tell the hostess, a waitress, anyone. I know you managed to run away once… so why not try again? If they let you out, it can’t be that hard!”

You swallowed the bite in your mouth and sighed. What did it matter if you told her the truth? Neither of you would make it out anyway. 

“They’ve kidnapped my half-brother and half-sister. Little kids, barely six… have them at gunpoint somewhere. I make one wrong move and they are dead.”

“Shit.”

You could picture her dumbstruck expression. After spending a week next to her, seeing her face while going in and out, you were starting to get a hang of her. You still didn’t know why you did it, take her turn every night. Eventually, they would drag her out, but for a week, the boss wasn’t in the building and no one seemed to push the inevitable and drag that girl’s stubborn ass out. 

And boy was she stubborn. She bit and clawed like a wild cat at the guards who tried to drag her. She got plenty beat up in the process, but everyone seemed to wait for the boss to get her in line when he came. 

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “My fiance is going to get us out.”

“Fiance?”

“Yeah. I bet he’s worried out of his mind right now. But there’s police. They’ll find us.”

“The police are in on this,” you said. “They get serviced for their quiet.”

She spat, then screamed in frustration.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, and blood froze in your veins. You recognised the hard tap and unforgiving rhythm of his steps. The boss.

“Go to your bed and pretend to sleep,” you hissed, discarding the sandwich in your hand and doing the same. 

“W-what?”

“Just do it.”

Covering yourself entirely with the blanket, you rolled into a ball, as if that would make you invisible, teleport you out of the horror story you were about witness. Since staring at the glass wall in his cabin for the first time, you had prayed for yourself. The pastor in the church your aunt dragged you to every Sunday preached that one should only pray for the world and not for oneself… because praying for oneself was selfish. If you prayed only for the world, that made you a good person, and God helped good people without having to ask for it.

You had never been particularly religious, but that one thing had stuck around. Subconsciously, all your life, you had never asked for yourself, not from God, the universe or even as a favour from people. If you wanted something, you had worked hard to earn it, and achieve it by sheer will and not divine intervention.

But that first night with the boss had made you pray for yourself over and over.

And you prayed now, in whispers that only remained in your breath, never making a sound. 

God, let him forget that I exist… Not tonight. Please please please.

The footsteps came to a halt, and the door next to yours opened.

You closed your eyes tighter. Oh, that poor girl. He had come for her at last.

“I hear you’ve been difficult.”

A spit.

“Michael,” he said in his cold, raspy voice. “Hand me my cane, now.”

“Yes, Boss,” said Michael, gleefully.

A slash in the air and a piercing scream sliced the air.

You shut your ears tightly as the scuffling began… but then it ended as suddenly as it had started when a loud, sickening crunch which sounded so close to the shared wall that you were certain it had happened against it.

A minute passed.

“Oh, what a terrible waste,” the boss sighed at last, almost delicately. “Remove it.”

The taps receded and then soon they carried her body by your cell, blood trailing behind her.

You sat up bolt in your bed, unable to keep the bile down as you emptied your stomach on the carpet next to the bed. Sam’s side of the carpet.

You plopped back on the bed, breathing heavily. 

“Just a dream,” you told yourself. “Just a dream.” Then, the reality came crashing down on you and you wanted to throw up all over again.

Abby’s quiet knock from the main door wrenched you out of bed and through the seating area. She didn’t have to see the vomit. Her face was pinched when you opened the door for her. She entered trepidly and placed the breakfast tray on the table. 

“Who’s in the house?” You asked

“Just us,” she said. “Mr Dean Winchester left last night itself.”

“And S-Sam? He’s out for his run?”

“Mr Winchester left for work.”

“It’s only 7.”

She gave you an apprehensive look, as if she wanted to say something but was scared of how you would perceive it.

“What is it, Abby?”

“Miss, he’s in a right state, that man. Before you came, he used to be so dry and detached… but this past month, since you first locked yourself in your room, he’s gone from pillar to post for you. Sleep, food, everything be damned. The only thing he has done is worry.” Her hand fluttered nervously to her side. “He stumbled down the steps this morning from exhaustion and still went for his run anyway. I think he needs to see a doctor.”

Abby didn’t know what had conspired last night.

“I don’t know the deal with his brother being back now,” she said, wrangling the corner of her apron. “But everyone knows they don’t get along. It can’t be good for him.”

Sam had looked exhausted last evening. The dark circles under his eyes, the once-fitted shirt that hung loose on his shoulders, and the ever-present frown on his forehead had become more and more etched now. 

“Abby, tell me when Sam is back, will you?”

You sent her away and cleaned up your mess in the bedroom. A hot shower further cleared your head. Taking stock of your time in the Winchester Mansion made you recount the number of times you had run out on Sam, locked yourself in the room, the number of secrets you had kept. So, he’d had his own secrets. You knew that. 

Then there was the fact that Sam had never explicitly said he hated his brother. In fact, he’d never spoken of him without pain mingled with love. His exact words- “We had a fight and I couldn’t see his face after that.” Couldn’t…. Not ‘Didn’t want.’ Nowhere had his words implied that Sam’s consent was considered.

The day appeared stormy, with an overcast sky. Maybe the light of the lantern would carry, perhaps it wouldn’t. You set it on the sill anyway.

Dean found you at the pier an hour later, when you had nearly given up hope. He stood at his usual spot but did not sit beside you and you noticed he was dressed differently; no jacket today, just a black T-shirt and jeans.

Slowly, you tilted your face upwards to meet his sharp green eyes. How often had you wondered what Dean Winchester would be like? Bitter? Angry? But Han wasn’t any of those things.

“Get up!” He ordered, without an ounce of remorse. You got to your feet.

“This way,” he pointed and began to walk towards the jungle without a preamble.

A frisson of annoyance ran through you. Where was his abashedness?

“Sam didn’t know,” he said briskly. “That you knew me. That we knew each other. That poor bastard had no damn clue.”

“You want me to believe you’ve been hiding out in these woods without Sam knowing?”

“Yes.” He came to an abrupt stop and you realised Dean was dead serious. “That kid’s as straight-jacketed as they come. Keeping up the charade nearly did a number on his head, and then you came into the picture. Sam’s nearly lost his goddamned mind over you.”

“He told you that?”

Dean sighed in exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening to a single word? I haven’t seen Sam in months, not since the fight. But he’s my only family left. I had to keep an eye on the kid.”

The trees were too damn thick for any sunlight to trickle down. Dean started walking again and you followed.

“What was the fight about, then?” You pressed, refusing to believe.

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Two years before I came into the picture? Yeah, right.”

Dean tilted his head, weighing his words. “About the idea of you, I guess.”

“Wow, that clears it all up, doesn’t it?” You laughed sarcastically.

He stayed quiet for so long that you actually paid attention to your surroundings, finding the trail vaguely familiar in the thick trees.

“We were to be married in eight weeks,” he said, voice deep and achingly sad. “She’d come to drop off pie for me. Sam says he insisted on dropping her back, but I knew my Jo. She was stubborn that one. If she wanted to drive herself, nothing Sam said would’ve changed her mind. Nothing. Ellen called three hours later asking for her. We searched all night long, all through the woods, all the way two towns over. Nothing. Sniffer dogs couldn’t catch a trail. The police found her car two days later in New Mexico… and her body two weeks later face down in the lake.”

You wanted to reach out, say something… anything, but words failed.

“She hadn’t drowned, Y/N. She’d already been dead when they threw her in there. Post-mortem said haemorrhage… blunt force trauma to the back of her head, ligature marks, bruises…” He closed his eyes unable to continue. 

You knew bits and parts of what followed– Dean’s self-destructive tendency and Sam’s unwavering support. The latter won.

“Sam still thinks he’s to blame. That he should have somehow foreseen it. I know Ellen doesn’t disagree with him or shy away from throwing it in his face.” A mirthless scoff.

“I think the bigger part of her anger is because of what Sam did to you… and me.” You said. “Or rather, what she thinks he did to you and me.”

Dean sighed. “I owe Sam a lot more than my life, a sorry and a thank you. This whole plan hinges on his resilience.”

“What plan?”

He ran a hand through his hair, but his pace slowed down. “The detective working this case, Jody Mills… she’s suspected a human trafficking ring here for years. Every few years someone goes missing or a body mysteriously appears. But this thing has its claws in so deep that we can’t trust the entire PD.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He glanced at you briefly, and you saw the ever-present kindness there. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ve figured out a bunch of this yourself.”

Nodding to yourself, you thought out loud. “Sam wasn’t keeping me around for sex, didn’t want to hang me as bait for kidnapping, so obviously he wants information about where I was but…” You vividly remembered the night when he’d held your bloody hand and then all but shushed your barrage when you had tried to spill it all in a haze. “He stopped me from telling him… He didn’t want to hear any of it.”

Dean chuckled. A sudden light sound in the pressing quiet. “And I just called you smart.”

“What?”

“For all your God-forsaken angst over loving Sam… Have you not considered him liking you back?” Dean narrowed his eyes as if he was judging your intelligence. “Obviously it’s hard for him to listen to what you’ve been through. Hell, I’ve choked back on what little you’ve told me. Why are you being so thick?”

Tears sprang in your eyes. 

He placed a gentle hand against your cheek. 

“Give yourself some credit, Y/N. As stupid as you’re being right now, how can you question your own judgement of Sam so easily? You took your time forming your opinion, didn’t you? So consider all proof objectively. He was on board with the plan from day one knowing it would wreck his reputation if I disappeared after transferring my inheritance to him, knowing he’d have to make himself a villain… all for Jo. The kid didn’t bat an eye before agreeing. What led to the fight was the very last step of the plan. After infiltrating the system, he’d have to be one of them and well…”

“Buy a girl,” you finished.

“Yes,” said Dean. The word hung heavy in the air. “Sam refused to do it at first, but it was the only way. It’s killed him since day one, Y/N. And yesterday when you said he’s no better than any of those men who hurt you…”

The tears now freely flowed down your cheek and right into Dean’s palm. He slowly directed your face into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh, what have I done?” You whispered into his jacket. 

Sam had banged hard on your door last night and you never gave him a chance to explain. Not a single word. If you truly loved him, how come the trust was broken this easily? And when you refused to speak, he’d respected your consent then, too.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said. “I should’ve trusted him, trusted you. After all, you never coaxed anything from me. I–”

A thousand memories ran through your mind: Sam’s fingers holding up your corset, touching his hand for the first time in the entrance hall before, his laugh after the false escape from dinner. Sam handing you a portfolio, Sam showing you around the old guesthouse, his fingers slipping on your wet shirt in the barn, laughing with him on the floor of your bedroom, his voice as he read out poetry… and his lips when they met yours.

“Sam took to playing chess in high school,” said Dean as you moved back. “I don’t think he ever got too good at it, but he used to come back rambling about all these moves, the King's Gambit, the Scandanavian, the Sicilian. He didn’t have anyone to play against, so I learned the basics to humour him and we played every night before bed.”

He’d started walking again and you kept pace this time.

“So there we are one night, recreating some classic game from half a century ago and I played a different piece and well, what do you know, my king ended up in a position from where he couldn’t move. Thought I’d lost because that was the only square my King was safe in. But then Sam said that’s not what it was. I couldn’t be forced to move my King to a checked square, but it wasn’t currently checked. A stalemate is what it was. That’s where we are at, Y/N.”

“A stalemate?”

“Yes. We know pieces of information, but not the ones that actually matter. It’s our move next, but every square is checked, Y/N. We need to know.”

The dim lights of the dungeon came back to you and oddly the crack of the skull. “The operation is not local, definitely crosses state lines. The building where they kept me is somewhere along New Mexico's border. It’s a huge glass building, seven stories high. I don’t know exactly where but from the se…” you gulped. “From the seventh floor, I could see a tall red tower with blinking lights. They blinked all the time… like passing seconds… but slower than s- seconds. The boss sits on the seventh floor.”

“The boss?”

“I-I don’t know his name. No one does. They only call him ‘the boss.”

“This is good, Y/N,” Dean said eagerly. “What does he look like? How does he find these girls? How does he keep them?”

“He… He looks like any other white man, in his 50’s, maybe early 60’s but his eyes, he has the coldest gray eyes and his laugh...” You stopped, collecting your thoughts. “You already know how he gets the girls. Men as scouts, pretending to be friends or lovers, finding vulnerable girls with little in the way of family. Me… Rosalie. About keeping them, there are two ways. One is standard, get them hooked to heroin. Once you have that, they’ll do anything to get the next fix. But those girls don’t make much money, yeah? They aren’t polished. I was the second kind, for the richer clientele that don’t like the smell of drugs and want the girls alive and kicking. For them, guess, it’s easier to blackmail by holding a loved one hostage. Rosalie only had a mother and I only had Jamie and Danny.”

You told him about how your siblings were held hostage somewhere, and how you stayed in line just to protect them.

“There’s very little we wouldn’t do to protect them, wouldn’t we?”

Dean nodded, then came to a halt and you noticed with some surprise that you were standing in front of the wishing well. 

His fingers grazed the parapet's tally marks, and you voiced a long-lost curiosity. “Why do you have one extra?”

“That dumbass brought you here, didn’t he?” Dean snorted. “So much for our secret place.” But he didn’t seem to hold any grudge over it. “Dad brought me here right before Sam was born. Told me this was a magic well, so I needed to make a wish about what I wanted… a sister or a brother.”

“What did you ask for?”

“You see the extra mark there, don’t you?” He winked. “After the fire, I used to run out a lot, trying to find the well again. Wish my dead parents back, you know? Finally found it when I was twelve and Sam was eight. ”

“Seems like you’ve kept pace since with the tallys.”

Dean winked as if there was a secret to it, but didn’t share it with you.

“Come on, make a wish then,” he said.

“One is already due. I don’t want to burden the well.” You sighed. “Look, Dean. I’ll help you with whatever you want. I can draw plans of the building, and the street layout I could see from the seventh floor. Tell you the number of guards, the shifts, even the names of some of the clients, but I need you to promise me that nothing will happen to my brother and sister.”

“I promise.” 

The walk back should have seemed like an interrogation, except Dean held your hand as you described more of the place, the people, the process… the boss.

“I told you already, I don’t know his name,” you burst out when he questioned a third time. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Did he… Did he hurt you? This boss?”

You laughed. One short, shaky laugh. “He had a wall full of these instruments… silver, gleaming and so cold.” Then there was the glass wall.

“Oh, that son of a bitch.”

“I wonder why you think Jo was involved in this,” you said, more to change the subject that anything else. “I mean she didn’t exactly fit the pattern.” Full family, doting boyfriend, well-to-do. Blitz kidnapping didn’t seem likely. The boss had to have had something on her.

“No, she didn’t fit the pattern and for a long time, we didn’t suspect her to have been in this.”

“How come?”

Dean’s voice reduced to barely above a whisper. “No obvious signs of… sexual assault in the postmortem report.” And despite the tragedy of it, Dean almost sounded relieved. He pulled out an old wallet from his back pocket and gazed at a picture inside lovingly. “I don’t know, Y/N, it makes me feel like an asshole but knowing that maybe she might have escaped the worst of it… God, I think it kept me from throwing myself off a damn cliff.”

“Oh, Dean!” You closed the distance in-between to hug him. “I bet she–” you gasped. The wallet hung loosely in his grasp and you glimpsed the picture behind the plastic. 

You grabbed the wallet and held it up. “That… That’s Jo? Your Jo?”

He took you by your shoulders. “You knew her?”

“Oh my God!” All the hurt and anger and fear came crashing down on you as you collapsed to the green earth of the side lawn. Over the years she had gone from being the girl in the next cell, to the girl with brown eyes, to the girl in your nightmares and eventually… the only thing you were proud of.

“She’s… she used to be the girl in the next cell. I knew her.”

“Who did this to her?” Dean asked, voice so sharp, it didn’t even sound his.

“The Boss did,” you whispered. “I think it might have been an accident. I only heard the scuffle and then the crack of her skull. It was quick. She didn’t suffer much.”

There was a sharp intake of breath over you and you didn’t dare look up.

“Dean, you should know, the girls there… eventually choose to stay there. I know I did. Once you stop with the kicking and screaming, it gets a little easier. The bad days are lesser and most clients don’t treat you like complete trash. There’s food on your plate at night and poor orphan girls have a bed to sleep in when they comply… they…. we stop fighting. Because there is no relief to fight for, no home to go to and no one who could protect us. But your Jo, she never stopped. I bet she took a few teeth out of that one guard, too.”

“Did they… did anyone ever…?” He could not spit the entire sentence out and you saw the courage it took to finally confront that question.

You looked straight in his tear-stained tortured eyes. “No one hurt her that way. I… I took her turns for the week she was there. I still don’t know why I did it. I’m not a charitable person, and it was hell that week, but something about her faith in her fiance reminded me of, well, me… before I found out how I got there. I wanted to protect her faith just a little longer. So, no Dean, no one touched her that way. And you should also know, she died like she lived, fighting and believing in your love for her.”

Dean hugged you and broke down. “Thank you… Thank you for doing that for my Jo,” he blubbered. “You’re… You’re like an angel. Sam said that you know… yesterday he said that he thought you were some kind of an angel when he first saw you dressed in white. Wasn’t wrong.”

And you broke down with Dean. The night had descended upon you, as you both held each other in the darkness and just cried. 

Much later, locked in the dining room, you drew the floor plans of the building from your memory, a map of the road and the way to the bus stop that you could remember, the names of the guards, physical descriptions, names of the girls, anything and everything you could think of. The maids all gave you curious looks. Getting along with a brother-in-law would be normal for most families, but an estranged brother-in-law who you had never supposedly met? Knowing the history they knew, that had to look shady.

As it turned out, Dean had been alternating between living in the Guest house in Sam’s room and a cabin further north that not many people knew of in the estate. He knew ways to sneak in and out better than almost anyone. Hired security was never too big a problem for him. He was to set out first thing tomorrow morning to see how he could use your intel.

“You know my roommate Carmen,” you said at the door when he was about to leave. “She might have been the only one to care for me back then. I fought with her the night before. If you can do one thing for me, find her and tell her she was right and I am so very sorry.”

“Of course.” Dean stepped up and kissed your forehead. “And Y/N, I’m going to get that bastard. Not just for what he did to Jo, but also for what he did to you. You said you didn’t fight after a while because you didn’t have a home, a family. Now you do. Remember that.”

You watched Dean head out. He would be gone before you woke up tomorrow, but you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. Upstairs, you found Abby in her room.

She stood up the moment she saw you. “Miss, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Abby. I was wondering if you knew when Sam would be back?”

“He was home earlier this evening but didn’t stay long. I believe he left for Colorado.”

Hurt. “Did he say anything about when he would return?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he ask about me?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he say anything at all?”

The pitying shake of her head was enough for you to turn around and return to your room. What if you had hurt Sam beyond fixing this time? Abby had been correct, he looked fragile, not just physically, but something about the fragmented look in his eyes, as if one blow could shatter him. What if your hurtful words and vitriolic accusation finally pushed him to the edge? How much bullshit could one man take after all?

You had stepped into this house thinking you would be used, and it was the most horrid feeling in the world. What if Sam thought the same now? That you had used him… used his home, his wealth, and his empathy. Hell, you had used his body, too! 

No, you didn’t pray for yourself much. But in that moment you did- God, please give me one chance to apologise. Please.

*****************************

A/N 2: So turns out I was tagging all wrong :/ Ana is feeling sad about that. Hopefully, it will work this time.

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Compromising Positions: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: An unsub is targeting and killing married couples, and you and Spencer go undercover in hopes of drawing out the unsub. Not only does it not work, but it opens a can of worms you don't think Spencer is ready to open.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Whatever you are, be a good one." – Abraham Lincoln

You're typing on your computer just minding your own business when you feel eyes on you. You look above your computer to see Spencer staring at you from over his. He quickly looks away and goes back to doing what he's doing, and you do the same. Two minutes pass and you feel eyes on you yet again. 

This time, you don't look at him.

"Spencer, you're staring," you sing. You look up and see a blush darkening his cheeks, and he quickly looks away. "What is it? Do I have something on my face?"

Spencer grabs his coffee and locks his computer since the briefing meeting starts in one minute. He passes by your desk to get to the stairs leading up to the small second-story and stops right behind you. You look up at him and he leans down to kiss you.

"You're just beautiful."

It's your turn to blush. You two walk to the briefing room together and take your seats while everyone else shuffles in.

"Hey, good news. Ellie just got placed with a foster family, so fingers crossed."

"Oh, that's great. I'm happy for her," Emily smiles.

"We got a case in Akron, Ohio," Hotch says when he walks in. "Two couples were killed in two weeks."

"One a week? That's not much of a cooling-off period."

Hotch puts up pictures of one couple.

"Scott and Kathy Hartway were found in their car in an isolated spot."

"The Son of Sam had a short cooling-off period. He also attacked couples in cars," Spencer says.

"Yeah, but the first couple was killed in their house. Robert and Allison Keppler." Hotch puts their pictures on the screen. "In both cases, the husbands were killed with a silenced nine-millimeter, and the wife was stabbed multiple times. He's crossed not only racial lines but socio-economic ones. The Kepplers lived in an upscale neighborhood and the Hartways were blue-collar."

"That's a big change in crime scenes--car versus house. Two radically different MOs, not to mention he subdues two people. That takes a lot of skill," Rossi comments.

"There's no indication of how he overwhelms them. There's no antemortem bruising. He doesn't use a blitz attack."

"He's got a nine-millimeter. He doesn't need to."

"How about signs of forced entry to the car or the house?" Derek asks.

"Nothing, but Akron PD did find this." Hotch puts pictures of both deceased males with bruising around their wrists. "Handcuffs. He restrains the men and saves the real savaging for the wife."

"Is this right?" Rossi flips through the paper file. "They found a used condom on both the husbands?"

"Yes, plus both had Viagra in their systems while neither had a prescription."

"So, the unsub gives the men Viagra and then forces them to have sex before he kills them?"

"Given the timetable, he's gonna strike again soon. We fly to Akron tonight. Wheels up in three hours."

Since you have three hours to kill, you decide to go to Hotch's office to talk to him about JJ. It's none of your business who he hires next or the process of getting someone else hired, but you feel like he might want some help to make the process easier.

"Hey, got a second?" you ask and knock on the door.

"Yes. Come in."

You walk into his office but keep the door open.

"So, without JJ, it's going to be tough."

"We'll manage."

"Have you thought about training someone new for the position?"

"Not right this minute."

You say it before even thinking about it. You just want to help out and think this is the best way you can.

"I could do it. I might not have her training but I read people well. I could--"

"Garcia, what is that?"

You turn to see Penelope rolling a suitcase behind her. You take a step back and allow her to walk into the office.

"My go bags."

"Where are you going?"

"With you, hopefully. Sir, I think we're all still reeling since JJ left, and we are a man down so you need a communications liaison." Hotch's mouth opens to respond but she is quick to speak again. "Sir, please hear me out. My job overlapped with JJ's the most. I created the program that she used to present cases. When you guys were out in the field, she coordinated your needs through me. It makes sense."

Hotch looks at you over her shoulder and you shrug as an answer to his silent question.

"Garcia, there are aspects of the job for which you have no training."

"You're totally right but I'm willing to learn. I'll learn how to interact with families, local law enforcement, and the media. Sir, I'm willing to tone down my wardrobe choices. I'm ready to make that sacrifice if you just please give me a chance."

"You know she's serious if she offers to change what she wears," you comment.

After a moment, Hotch nods. "Alright. We could explore this on a trial basis. We'll see how things go. Are you up to speed on the case?"

"Yes."

"Can you be ready in three hours?"

"I'm ready now."

"See you on the plane."

Penelope grins and leaves his office, and you step back to where you were before.

"You understand why she's a better fit."

"Yeah, she'll do good. I just wanted to help you out."

"You can by being out in the field. You're much better out there."

You leave his office and head back down to your desk to get some more paperwork done before the flight. Three hours later, you and the rest of the team are inside the plane but still on the ground. You're sitting next to Spencer but across from Hotch and Emily while Rossi is on the couch next to you. Derek is making himself a coffee knowing he won't sleep on the plane.

"I'm just waiting on a few last-minute details. Let's go ahead and get started," Hotch says.

"I keep thinking about the fact that he makes a married couple have sex before he kills them. What is he accomplishing with that?" Rossi asks.

"You know, the stabbing of the wives is almost certainly like piquerism. The unsub gets sexual gratification from penetration with a knife. Most piquerists are impotent. Men like Albert Fish, Iain Scoular, and Andrei Chikatilo. For him, it could be a substitute for sex."

"The unsub could also be playing a mind game. Neither shot to the husband is clean, so they have to watch what he's doing to their wives as they're dying," Emily adds to Spencer's thought.

"So, this guy challenges their manhood by forcing them to have sex and then mocks them with the overkill. That kind of psychological torture makes him a sexual sadist. It would explain the amount of control he exhibits over the crime scene--the handcuffs, the condoms, and the silenced weapon. He plans out every detail."

"If he's that precise, he would be just as precise in his victimology, but he's all over the map in terms of class and race."

"There must be something else about the couples that attracts him. Something that he couldn't learn by stalking them anonymously. Maybe the couples met the unsub before," you say.

"Rossi and Reid, will you handle the family interviews? Morgan, Prentiss, and Y/N, go to the latest crime scene. We need to learn as much as we can about him so let's really pin down the MO."

Hotch looks past Spencer's shoulder to the front of the plane once someone else walks on board. You look behind you to see Penelope dressed in a gray knee-length dress with a small black blazer. Her hair is straightened and she doesn't have her glasses on which means she is wearing contacts. This is nothing like what she normally wears.

"Well, look at you," Derek smirks.

"Meet your new communications liaison. Trial communications liaison," she corrects.

"Garcia, I don't get to say this often, but I had no idea there was this side of you."

"I figure since I'm going to have to interact with the mass populace, I should dress in the traditional costume of a mere mortal." She squints her eyes as if she is in pain. "Ow. Ow."

"What's wrong?" Derek asks.

"Oh, it's my contact. It keeps getting weird." She pulls down the bottom lid of her eye and rolls it to try and fix her contact. "Huh. There it goes. No. Yes. No. Ow."

You can't help but giggle at her theatrics. Now that the last member is on the plane, the pilot is given the green light to take off. You hook your arm through Spencer's and lean your head on his shoulder, and he rests his head on yours. You mindlessly run your hand up and down his arm as you close your eyes for a bit of rest. Hotch watches you two in thought, ideas already swimming in his head on how you can help him out with this case.

Since the flight is only an hour and a half, you arrive in Akron late at night. Hotch checked everyone into the hotel and allowed everyone to get proper sleep before getting to work in the morning. As soon as the sun is up, you head to the recent crime scene with Derek and Emily, and the rest head to the Akron Police Department.

"Detective Crowley?"

"Miss Garcia. Thanks for coming." He shakes her hand. "She emailed pictures of you guys. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, and Dr. Reid, right? It's doctor, not agent. She was specific about that."

Spencer smiles proudly at Penelope.

"What else was she specific about?" Rossi asks.

"Everything your team needs. I sent her a list of family members who'd be willing to talk, and your boards are over there, all ready for you to set them up. I even got the push pins you asked for."

A distraught man walks into the station and approaches the group.

"Excuse me. Are you miss Garcia?"

"Mr. Keppler. Hi. This is Detective Crowley. He'll show you to the interview room."

Both men leave and Penelope addresses Hotch.

"He is such a sweet man," she sighs.

"You contacted the family members already?"

"Yes. Only two responded back immediately. That is Robert Keppler's dad, and Scott Hartway's mom will be here in about an hour. Is that enough time?"

"Yes, perfect."

"Okay. I'm gonna set up the boards unless you need something else."

"No, we're good. Thank you."

Penelope leaves and Rossi turns to Hotch.

"And you were worried."

"Y/N came to me and asked if she could do it."

"What did you tell her?"

"That she's better off in the field."

"I agree," Rossi nods.

x

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[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 17/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010) TWELVE (2011) THIRTEEN (2012) FOURTEEN (2013) FIFTEEN (2014) SIXTEEN (2015)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN– 2016 – Jake Seresin Interlude 2

                He works at making himself harder, tries to give himself a hard shiny protective shell that can’t be broken through. He succeeds for the most part, his tongue and words become sharper, weapons he wields with cutting precision. He fosters his reputation as an asshole. Selfish and arrogant. It’s fine, he doesn’t need people to like him. He has his small circle of friends who know him. The real him. It’s an exclusive circle, numbering three whole people. That the circle grows to include Phoenix had been weird at first. Then he’d discovered that they had quite a bit in common, their hard shells worn like armor not even the start, but less than ideal families and Javy’s easy open friendship attracting them like moths to a flame.

                “You ever been in love?” Phoenix asks and Javy is snorting around the mouth of his bottle of beer.

                “Jake’s still in love with the first guy he ever slept with…”

                “Fuck off Javy,” Jake mutters, annoyed, because he’s admitted that in confidence. Isn’t even sure if it’s true. Doesn’t even know if Phoenix knows he’s gay. He’ll have to punch him for that later. There’re different levels of letting people in, and he hadn’t let that one slip yet, had taken every opportunity to flirt with Phoenix and make her believe he’d be down for a friends with benefits situation. Now of course she’s staring at him, one perfectly sculpted brow lifting and Jake just shrugs.

                “Oh. I didn’t realize… And you mean it’s not… you?” Phoenix asks Javy, as she looks at Javy. He’s grinning and shaking his head.

                “Nope. Not me. We’re just friends, only thing we’ve ever been. I’ve never even been curious enough to kiss the fucker…”

                “Your loss,” Jake throws out and Javy laughs, and he can’t help but be amused in response. Phoenix is laughing, and Jake just shakes his head, relaxes at her complete non-reaction. Then again, she’s also best friends with Bradley, so she might know about Bradley…. Maybe. He’s never let anyone know who it is, not even Javy. It’s only ever been between him and Bradley, which he knows is exactly how Bradley wants it. Something secret and hidden. He might not get a dishonorable discharge now, but neither is he out and proud and shouting anything from the rooftops. His family only talk to him if he never brings it up.

                Which is why the whole thing with Bradley is so confusing. He lies in bed and thinks about it some nights. He’s heard the rumors about Maverick Mitchell being Bradley’s… godfather. Maybe father, but he’s going to err towards godfather because from the pictures he’s seen of Maverick Michell he looks nothing like Bradley at all. So if Maverick Mitchell is indeed part of Bradley’s life, then it means Admiral Kazansky is as well. Which means that Bradley grew up seeing this solid loving relationship between two men in active service. Sure they would have had to keep it on the downlow, but it was probably an open secret or something, given how far Admiral Kazansky has moved up the ranks. It makes him admire the man more than he already did, that he’s managed to serve under DADT and still climb the ranks and then get married and be happy. Jake wants all that, suspects he probably needs to be kissing more asses and greasing wheels if he wants to start moving up the career ladder. He’ll worry about that later. If he ever figures out the enigma of Bradley.

                And he should really try and call him something, anything, other than Bradley. Bradshaw and Rooster both work, as does asshole and dick. Not that Bradshaw ever promised him anything. Never whispered sweet nothings. Jake isn’t an idiot, they couldn’t have had anything other than something secretive seven years ago. But he’d sort of hoped, only to have that hope dashed every single time they’ve met since. The fact that all Bradley has to do is smile at him has his resolve and hard shell shattering and crumbling around him breaks him. He’s kept the fucking moustache and wonders if Bradley has done it on purpose, a constant reminder of Jake saying he liked it. And he does still like it which is infuriating. On anyone else he can’t stand them, and the one time he tried to grow one had been a mistake of epic proportions. Bradley however looks effortlessly confident and sexy and Jake hates it.

                Hates him.

                Except he doesn’t, despite how much he wants to some days. He thinks he even loves him and Jake hates himself for loving someone who just… doesn’t care about him. He thinks back to the last time they hooked up, and it had been a complete surprise, neither of them expecting the other to be there. They’d still gotten drawn towards each other like they were trapped in the same whirlpool. Afterwards, not long enough after, because Jake could have stayed there with Bradley pressed against him for hours, breath warm on his skin before he’d pulled away. Jake remembers feeling cold.

                “Fuck. Fuck.”

                “We did that already.”

                The laugh Bradley had let out then had been strangled, bordering on hysterical maybe. Jake bit back the question he wanted to ask, which was whether Bradley was alright. Hard shell. He had to be better at not letting it crack.

                “I was trying to fucking apologize.”

                “Weird way to go about it,” Jake had replied, and he’d started moving then, pulling clothes back into place.

                “Jesus Jake… I don’t… Fuck. I really didn’t mean to let this happen. Again.”

                A little part of him thrills at the memory, that he’s apparently as irresistible to Bradley as he is to him. It doesn’t mean that they’re good for each other though. He knows Bradley can be sweet. Has memories of their first time together, that entire weekend, which had felt… well. He doesn’t want to use the word magical, because that’s horse shit. However it had given him hope.

                “It’s all good Bradshaw. Not like it was a hardship. Guess it’s back to pretending we can barely be civil with each other though…” Jake had said, and he hadn’t meant for bitterness to creep through, but the look on Bradley’s face had told him that he’d failed horribly.

                “I… I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I was, uh, looking for something more. I’m not. Not at the moment.”

                “No. I didn’t think you were.”

                “Shit. Jake. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go. I'll go.”

                “Uh, I kind of think I do. I’m… I am looking for something more so I think I better not waste any more of my time here if it’s not on the cards.”

                Saying the words had felt right at the time, but he still feels like he’s broken his own heart.

                Still.

                He has hope for one-day.

                Doubts very much it’ll ever be Bradley Bradshaw, however much he might want it to be, no matter how ill-advised that is.

[aishime]

most Campbell/Reader fanfics have y/n also be part of the asylum BUT WHAT ABOUT THEM WORKING ON THE PLACE CAMPBELL'S RADIO SHOW IS HOSTED!!! OR A COFFE SHOP NEAR IT!!!! feel like campbell having a show at the radio should be used MORE

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[zaddyazula]

not even funny how hard i was crying yesterday like jesus christ

[loveanddeepdick]

cw: slight dubcon, taking pictures, groping (all consensual)

obsessed!geto who loves spoiling you, taking you out on dates and buying you whatever your heart desires because he knows that you’ll let him fuck you in whatever he wants to see you in.

you want a new sweater? it’ll end up bunched around your collarbone as he tugs it up to stare at your tits.

“suguu!! stop it you perv!”, you whine as he intently stares at your mounds, reaching out to fondle them.

“calling me that only turns me on more, angel”

obsessed!geto will get you a necklace with his initial on it, a subtle display of affection. to you, it’s a piece of jewelry that you cherish. but to him, it’s his claim over you.

he watched the small initial necklace bounce against your neck and collarbone, back and forth, as he slammed his cock into you from the back.

drilling his cock into you and smiling, watching the shining metal around you neck, he leaned down to whisper in your ear

“mine, all mine”

obsessed!geto who always has his hands on you at all times, especially when you two are in public. it doesn’t matter if you’re wearing pants or shorts, he’ll have his hand on your ass. even better if you’re wearing a skirt, he’ll put his hand under your skirt and squeeze your cute butt!

if someone tries flirting with you while he’s not there, you best believe he’s coming back, running his hands over your back and wrapping around your waist.

“oh? who’s this, angel? no one? that’s what i thought”

obsessed!geto who just loves taking pictures of you when you’re vulnerable! at first it, it starts with him just taking cute photos of you but when you two start dating, he tests the waters a little, with your permission of course!

when you’re sleeping, when you’re in the shower, when you’re cooking or cleaning, he just loves anything you do!

his personal favorite is one where he snapped a picture of you when you passed out after a mind-numbing orgasm. your face was in your pillow, drooling while your nice little ass was faced up, showing how both of your holes were destroyed, gaping, and full of cum. he’s just so obsessed with you!! <3

AGH i love geto ill make a pt 2 soon

[kamitv]

▷ Premature

Sypnosis . How they react to getting caught jerking off/How they jerk off when you’re not around. / Pairings . (Separate) Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Geto Suguru x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader, & Nanami Kento x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, masturbation, pervertedness, praise, needy men, filth, dirty talk, non-curse au, degrading, established relationships etc. / wc . 5.5k

A/N: not proofread in the slightest— I apologize in advance for the errors. This is a mix of two requests; one from my lovely 👍anon; If it's not too much trouble, would you take a request for how JJK men jack it to reader? To a picture, their thoughts, or maybe reader asks them perhaps? & jjk men getting caught jerking off [MDNI]

★ Toji Fushiguro

He’s the kinda guy that you could never be on the phone with past midnight. Why? Cause’ suddenly his voice is getting deeper, his comments are growing more suggestive, and he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock as he gets off to the sound of your voice.

What the hell are you even talking about? He’s got no idea, all he knows is that your soft tone, laced with such a faint sleepiness to it, has his cock aching within his hand.

You wouldn’t even notice he’s jerking off for a while either, not until he groans out your name.

The sound makes your entire body freeze and all you can do is stare at your phone, tipping your head to the side curiously before you tap on your phone to bring the ongoing phone call to the forefront of your screen.

You’d get quiet and he’d get louder, grunting out an all too deep, “Fuck,” That has you smiling to yourself a little. Especially when you hear him grunting as if he were trying to keep his sounds in.

But, your moment of confidence only lasts until the deep baritone of his voice snaps you out of it, “Keep fuckin’ talkin’, doll,” Toji orders and god does he sound sexy like this.

There’s the faintest hint of need in his voice that has you biting your lower lip to hold back the toothy smile trying to present itself on your face. Gulping, “Toji…” You murmur, and your ears don’t miss how he sighs heavily.

On his end, he’s got his legs sprawled out and his head tosses back at the sound of you calling his name, “What?” He’d huff, almost as if what he’s doing hasn’t become rather obvious to you.

Your voice is suddenly closer to the phone and it makes Toji grunt, “You okay over there? Y’sound… busy,” You utter teasingly.

“Mmmh… mhm, m’fine, jus’-, hahh, keep… keep talkin’,” His long pauses and heavy exhales were making you squirm on your end. You could only imagine how he looked right now— big hand wrapped around his cock as he gave himself quick tugs to the sound of your voice.

You start to shift around in your bed and almost forget to respond as you listen closely. Turning your volume up, you could hear almost everything. His sounds became vivid, a messy noise of spit heard as Toji wets his cock up in ways he’s known you to, his hand jerking his dick in quicker pulls due to the slickness of his saliva and precum mixing together.

“Hahhh, fuck,” Toji pants and starts slowing his hand down just so he can speak properly, “Why’d y’stop talkin’? Hm?”

“I uh… I thought I heard something, sorry,” You hum as you fake cluelessness. “Anywho, what was I saying again? Do you remember?”

Ah, you’d decided to test him thinking he wasn’t paying attention at all to what you were discussing earlier. Jokes on you, Toji knows how to multitask (sometimes), “Uh, you were tellin’ me about your day or somethin’,” He hums casually.

“Riight,” You chuckle. An idea pops into your mind and you decide to use his lack of full attention to what you were previously discussing to your advantage, “Well, me and my friends went to this new sweet spot today.”

“Yeah? ‘Nd what else, doll?” Toji sounded so clearly occupied but he was trying his best to just get you to keep talking. Every word that left your lips went straight to his cock.

You grin, “Well, it was pretty hot today so I got lucky they had popsicles! The one I got was suuper big, could’ hardly fit it in my mouth,” You explain.

Was this story true? Not exactly, but when else do you get the opportunity to tease your boyfriend like this?

Toji’s eyes flicker as he processes what the hell you just said to him, his cock twitching at the thought of your lips parting to take something large into your mouth— you knew what the hell you were doing to him and he was starting to pick up on it.

Swallowing thickly, Toji hums, “Oh yeah? Reminds me of a couple of other things that can’t really fit in your mouth…”

“Hm? Like what, Toji?” You murmur innocently.

Your voice had softened by a lot and it drove him crazy. Such a clear false innocence laced into your question had the man picturing your expression. The way you’re probably sitting there with your eyes all wide and curious, batting those pretty lashes of yours like you don’t know what the hell you’re asking him.

Scoffing, “Don’t play dumb, y’know what the hell m’talkin’ about.” Toji drawls out, voice a bit rougher with you.

You ignore his little attitude and let out a giggle, “Do I?”

“Yeah, y’do,” Your boyfriend huffs. His breathing is noticeably heavier and little did you know, he had his head resting back and his eyes on the ceiling as he fisted his cock rapidly, slick sounds masked by his voice every time he spoke.

As if to make his state worse, your voice dips into something more sultry, “I’m really not sure Toji… What else is too big to fit in my mouth? Hm?” You hum.

“Fuck-,” Toji lets out a slight gasp, his breath stuttering for a moment before he grunts, “My cock, baby. Y’know this.”

The way he gave up on getting you to say it first has you smiling, “Mmmh, I dunno Toji,” God you were saying his name too much and it was making his balls ache, “I had your cock down my throat perfectly fine the other day if I recall correctly.”

“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Toji abruptly rasps out, making you gulp as you felt a throb in your core, “Where’d y’learn to talk like that, huh?”

You snicker, “From my boyfriend who enjoys jerking off to the sound of my voice.”

And just like that, Toji can feel his orgasm approaching— damn you and your slick remarks, you only ever acted like this over the phone. You knew better in person but, he didn’t mind right now.

“Hahh, fuck you,” Toji fires back.

“You want to right now, don’t you?” You were getting confident all of a sudden and he groans before shutting his mouth just to listen to you speak. “Wanna feel my tongue on your cock, huh?”

His hand squeezes onto his cock and a strangled grunt leaves the back of his throat, “Shit-,” Toji’s haw drops a little, “Don’t stop talkin’, m’close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum thinkin’ about fuckin’ my throat, right?” You murmur.

And he definitely was, it’s all he could think about right now. Especially with how bold you were being, how could he not picture you on your knees and taking his cock down your throat as he face fucks you just to teach you a lesson about talking to him like this?

Then you just kept going, “…Or jus’ from me talking? Y’like my voice that much, Toji?” You ask.

He’s on his end just nodding as his brows furrow— when the hell was he this damn needy for you? “Yes, fuck… fuckin’ hell, yes, I fuckin’ love your voice baby,” Toji tells you.

God you wish you could see him right now. You just know he’s sweating, cockhead angry and leaking at your every word, big thighs parted yet jittery as he gets closer and closer.

“C’mon then big guy, cum f’me so you can come over,” Suddenly your tone is aroused and Toji’s squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

“S’late, doll,” He argues.

You tut, “Yeah well listenin’ to you jerk off turned me on so now you’ve gotta come over ‘nd deal with it.”

Some nerve you had. As if you wouldn’t be the one all teary eyed and pouty after a few kisses from him…

Yet, Toji’s not thinking about that right now, mindlessly agreeing just because he needs you right now and his hand is starting not to cut it anymore, “Hahhh, alright-, shit. Whatever the fuck you want, doll. I’ll be over in ten.”

You snicker, “Make it five.”

He swears you’ll be the death of him.

Scoffing, “Needy ass girl… agh… can’t wait ten minutes?”

“You couldn’t wait til’ I got off the phone to jerk off?” You argue.

He’s smirking despite the slight irritation that creeps up on him due to how bratty you were being, “…Shut up.”

You smile, “Come shut me up.”

“Oh I’m about to.”

★ Geto Suguru

Moaning your name as if that’ll cause your hand to be wrapped around his cock instead of your panties— Suguru uses your clothes to get off when you’re not around.

He doesn’t bother to call you or text you. It’s usually late when he gets like this so he just uses the lace panties you “accidentally” left over at his place.

Sometimes he’s got the fabric wrapped around his cock as he jerks off and other times he’s got it pressed up to his nose, inhaling what little of your scent he could get as his hips fuck into the O-shape he’s created with his hand. If he inhales strong enough, he swears he can still smell your pussy and that alone makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuuuck,” Geto moans unashamed into the air. What’s he gotta hold his voice back for? Even if you were to ever catch him like this, he knows you’re just as much of a perv as he is.

His hand has a strong grip on his base as he gets himself off with your panties. Just thinking about how the fabric clung to your cunt for hours on end has his cock dripping pre onto the floor.

“Fuckin’ miss you, agh,” Suguru would groan thoughtlessly into the air, recalling the last time he had your pussy on his tongue, how sweet how tasted, how addicting you are.

Within said imagination, he doesn’t even realize he’s moving your panties to his mouth, his tongue seeping out and pressing into the fabric as if that’ll give him a taste of you again. Is it the same as sucking on your cunt til’ your legs are shaking? No, of course not. Does it make Geto’s hand milk the fuck out of his cock? Well, yes.

Light and faint whines slip past his lips, “Ha-ahh… taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Geto groans like you’re right there with him.

Shit, he wants you on his tongue again. He can never get enough of it— the way your pussy sloshes all over his mouth every time he eats you out, how you whine his name and beg him for a break, or even the way you get greedy as your orgasm nears and you start bucking your hips against him.

Either way, it’s all he can think about right now. And it doesn’t get any better when his eyes open and looks down at himself, your panties clung tightly in between his teeth as he envisions you below him with a mouth wide and ready for him.

Oh the way you always take his cock down your throat never fails to make his eyes cross. You’d suck on him like your life depended on it, moaning against his shaft whenever he started thrusting into your mouth or whining when he forces your head down some more.

And he’s so close as he thinks about it more— picturing your wet lips parted around his flushed tip, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth, and your tongue slipping against him languidly-

“Suguru?” The sound of your voice makes him moan in surprise before he’s turning his head to look at you.

Even caught in the act, he only gets turned on even more. His brows tense and he pants heavily as his eyes meet yours, quickly noticing the way your gaze dropped down to his achingly hard cock.

You were supposed to be asleep out on his living room couch where he’d left you moments ago but yet, here you were— standing with your eyes all wide and curious, taking careful steps toward the man as you cross your arms, and giving him this look that drives him crazy.

You gulp loudly as you look up to your boyfriend’s face, “Are those my panties in your mouth?”

“M-Mmhm,” Geto hums with an impatient nod of his head.

Your lashes bat at the man before you find yourself standing right in front of him, placing but a single hand on his chest before taking the other and removing the lace from the man’s mouth.

“That’s filthy Sugu,” You whisper carefully.

The way his lips part and how his eyes lower on you, a groan slipping from him due to how close your body was and the way you’d touched him so softly. “Uhuh, I know, baby,” His voice has the faintest shake to it as he mumbles out an answer.

Smiling slightly, you keep your eyes directly up on his despite his hand not stopping on his cock for even a second, “You could’ve woken me up if you needed me, Suguru.” You utter.

He cracks a lazy grin for a moment, “I jus’ needed your panties.”

You frown and your brows tense a bit, “…Pervert.” You whisper, watching how his body twitches in reaction before he’s leaning his face down and closer to yours.

“Mhm,” Geto hums, “Yeahhh, tha’s me, princess. Keep tellin’ me how fuckin’ nasty I am.” Your boyfriend purrs, earning a wide eyed look from you as you gaze up at him in surprise.

You comply, trailing a single finger down along his chest as you tip your head to the side and speak, “You’re filthy Sugu, gettin’ off with my panties… Bet you wanted to get caught like this too.”

“Maybe,” Geto tells you with that awfully cocky grin on his face, “But you’re not any better. I caught you fingerin’ yourself to my voice last week.”

You gulp, “T-That was…”

He’s leaning down past your face and you flinch as his lips make sudden contact with your neck, “Different, huh?” He rasps out, hot breath tickling the side of your neck.

Tense, your hand stops moving along his body and you angle yourself to look down at how aggressively he’s fisting his cock right now, “Yeah…” You murmur, completely distracted by the sight below you.

His hand got faster on his cock, quicker tugs made the longer you stared down at him and cum leaking from his tip as he grunted against your neck.

“Sure it was,” Geto whispers, but his voice is a lot lighter than you expected it to be. “Now are you gonna just stand here and watch me jerk off or are y’gonna get on your knees ‘nd take care of me?” He asks, lifting his face a little to kiss the space below your ear.

You unconsciously lick your lips the longer you stare down at his cock, watching him drip onto the floor and make the slightest mess before you chuckle, “That’s no way to ask, Sugu.”

He scoffs against you but you don’t miss the quietest whine leaving his throat before he speaks, “Funny cause I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’.”

“Oh?” You snicker at your boyfriend before turning your head to meet his gaze, “You’re mean when you get caught in the act…”

He stares you down and resists every neuron in his body that’s telling him to press his lips into yours, “Am I?”

“Mhm, as if you’re not embarrassed,” You tease. God you were driving him crazy— looking at him so longingly, your lips nearly on his, your body warm with how close you were to him and your hand low and near his cock.

Fuck, one more touch from you and he’d be cumming in seconds. “I’m not.” Geto replies to you.

You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second and his gaze drops, “You sure? Y’know how long I was watchin’ you before I said something?”

“Fuck, how long baby?” He practically mumbles. He needed your touch so badly, you were too close to not be all over him right now and his restraint was waning by the second.

“A few minutes, saw you puttin’ my panties to your nose ‘nd everything,” As you speak, your hands are lifting and his eyes are widening.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he’s forced to stop his hand on his cock before he blows his load too soon, “Yeah?” He breathes.

You nod and inch closer, “Mhm.”

“Bet that got you all hot ‘nd bothered, huh?” Geto whispers, cocking his head to the side before placing a hand to your waist and holding you tenderly, “That’s why you said somethin’ right? Cause y’like watchin’ me like this?”

Your eyes were on his lips now and you’d half-heard everything he just said, shrugging out a little, “Maybe…” In response before your lips are finally on his.

Geto can’t even control the groan that pours out of him while his lips move over yours, tongue slotting into your mouth and hand squeezing onto your waist as if to tell you not to move.

The kiss doesn’t even last that long before he’s letting out a whine as his cockhead brushes against your body, “Fuck-, enough of this teasin’, I need you princess.”

★ Gojo Satoru

You were going to take it upon yourself to ask your husband how he jerks off when you’re not around but instead of answering your text with an explanation like a normal person— he sends you a video.

Unfiltered, less than a second after clicking on the video, you’re met with his glistening cock on your screen. Slicked with spit and precum trailing along his veins, a pretty pink tip twitching for some attention, and a bright flash from his cellphone giving you the perfect view of his lower half.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t squeeze your legs together as soon as you started the video. Then there’s his voice that you hear about five seconds in.

“Wanted to see how I jerk off, huh? Dirty girl,” Oh his tone was low with you, the sound filling your ears as you bat your lashes and gulped. Thank god for your headphones, despite being home alone, because you could hear every little sound. “You’re lucky I was already in the middle of it when you texted, y’know.”

Although he can’t hear you, you scoff, “Slut.”

“Got’ this hard thinkin’ about you,” Gojo whispers suddenly, his slender fingers wrapping around his cock carefully, “I miss you, pretty girl,” His words and the way he’s slowly touching himself for you has your body hot and it’s only been a few seconds.

Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes narrow on his hand— how tenderly it slides up and up until he reaches his tip, the way his thumb runs in between the slit of his cockhead and he lets out a hiss.

Then his hand lowers and the sound that follows is so wet, “Fuuck, I wish it was you touchin’ me right now. You always make me feel s’good,” Gojo pants unintentionally, “Miss your lips on me too. How long’s it been? A week? Fuckin’ hate leavin’ you for work…”

You chuckle lightly at his moment of rambling but the way his hand picks up in speed ever so slightly has your smile fading and your focus returning. Sometimes you wonder how he even fits inside you— his cock is so long and from his base to his tip, he looks like he’d split you open (he does).

Your thighs are squeezing together again and you’re starting to miss him the more you watch, the vivid and deep sound of Gojo humming your name causing a chill to slip down your spine.

And you swear you were about to get to the best part of the video he’s sent because his hand was moving at a quickened pace but you’re interrupted by an incoming video call from the man in question.

You practically jump out of your skin due to your ringtone before you scramble to answer it.

Batting your eyelashes as the call connects, you swallow hard, “H-Hello-“

“Knowin’ you’re watchin’ that video isn’t enough f’me,” Gojo huffs out— now he’s got the camera propped up for you and you can see most of his body.

His shirt is long gone, same with his sweats, his legs are spread far and wide, hard and throbbing cock standing straight up as his hand tugs at it in needy little pulls. Gojo’s got his head tossed back and you have the clearest view of his sweaty Adam’s apple, a slip of sweat sliding down along his chest.

He’s panting like crazy and his hand is fucking his cock much more aggressively than he was in that video you’d been watching, “Show me somethin’ baby, I fuckin’ need you,” Gojo huffs impatiently as he shifts his head back into place to meet your gaze on his screen.

You gulp, “S-Satoru, I-“

“Please?” He whines so suddenly and it has your pussy throbbing, especially with how he lifts his hips into his hand because of simply looking at your face, “Wanna see somethin’ pretty, show me your pussy, please?”

It's almost embarrassing how fast you move for your needy husband, going to prop your own phone up similar to how he’s done his and then discarding your clothes in a heartbeat.

“Spread yourself apart f’me, baby,” Gojo groans out his instructions and you’re following his every word— parting your legs wider and moving two finds to your cunt to spread your pussy apart for him.

“Mmh, like this, ‘Toru?” You utter with a slightly shaky hand and an embarrassed expression.

You see the way Gojo’s jaw sinks a little and how his brows furrow as he fists his cock faster, almost eagerly, “Juus’ like that, sweetheart-, fuck. I miss bein’ inside you,” Gojo says before tilting his head to really study your cunt, “Look how wet y’re f’me ‘nd I’m not even there, shit.”

You’ve got your pointer and ring finger holding your cunt open and you shift your middle finger to give yourself the slightest bit of relief, “It’s cause of your video..”

“Yeah?” Gojo smiles, “Y’liked watchin’ me jerk off?”

His hand slows, palm steadily traveling down along his shaft as a whine leaves him. Your pretty pussy on full display for him and making his balls twitch. He wanted to be fucking you full of him so badly.

“Uhuh,” Your softer tone hits his ears and Gojo grunts.

“Shiiit,” He breathes out before biting his bottom lip. He’d started to drool without even realizing it and his cock was dripping in cum already, “Look at that pussy leak f’me-, holy fuck.” Your husband moans, “My voice get you like this too?”

You’ve started to tease yourself with merely one finger and you can’t move your eyes away from his needy cock, “M-Mhm…” You hum.

“Aww, baby…” Gojo coos. Then you were slipping two fingers into yourself and trying your best to get off along with him, “Look at your fingers tryin’ t’please you like how I do,” He cracks a smile, “Doesn’t feel the same, does it?”

Shaking your head, “N-No, ‘Toru. I need you.”

“Hahh, need you too baby,” Gojo moans, hand picking back up. The faintest plp plp plp followed his movements as bits of cum dripped from his cockhead and onto the floor, “Look at how fuckin’ hard I am cause of you.” He huffs just before glancing down to himself.

Ah, he was making a mess but he was a bit too dazed with arousal to pay any mind to it right now.

You bite your lip and hum before tipping your head back and shutting your eyes, “Mmmh…”

“M’gonna get home and fuck you til’ we both pass out, I swear.” Gojo huffs. His voice is airy and his hand is getting a bit messy now.

Your lips part and you exhale heavily, “Can’t wait.”

“Yeah? Y’can’t wait huh?” Your husband grunts, practically fucking his cock up into his hand at this point, “Maybe I’ll get ya' pregnant so I have an excuse not t’leave you like this.”

Your legs start to close a little and you moan, “Satoru, m-mgh…”

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” He groans pornographically into the air, “Wish I was cummin’ inside you, fuckin’ you nice ‘nd full, watchin’ you make a mess on me-, hahh… agh…” His lips quiver a bit as he gets close and he’s panting so hard that the camera is starting to fog up a little.

“T-Toru,” You whine for him— missing him oh so desperately now that you’re nearing your own orgasm.

“Yeah, mhm, m’here baby,” Gojo chants, breath heavy and hand jolting up and down his cock fervently, “C’mon, cum with me. You can do it f’me pretty girl.”

You’re nodding, he’s nodding— both of you are getting there together and whining each other’s names. Gojo’s veins are popping up on his hand with how tightly his gripping onto his cock and his mouth hangs open, eyelids heavy and vision blurring while he moans your name.

“Miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groans finally before he glances to his phone to see you releasing all over your fingers— the sight leads him to cum right then and there with his kegs trembling slightly.

Fuck, he needed to get home soon.

★ Nanami Kento

You were surprised to walk in on your boss jerking off.

“Oh fuck,” Echoed into the air, his voice thick with lust as he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered his office yet.

With the way his desk was, you could see everything. His muscular thighs parted like a damn slut, cock barely tugged out of his slacks, big veiny hand working to bring himself to an orgasm.

Truth be told, it’s your fault he’s like this— his cute lil’ assistant, walking around in those tight ass skirts he’s asked you not to wear thousands of times over again. And yet you do it anyway. Maybe because you know where it gets you with your boss or maybe because you wanted a situation exactly like this.

Sure, he’s your boss but he’s also the same man that fucks you til’ you can’t walk straight whenever you request him to do so.

But this? Well, you’ve never been so aroused by walking in on a man pleasing himself before. It had to be his deep groans of your name or even the size of his cock and how it exceeded the size of his hand, how you could picture your own hands around it and how you know your hands would be so pale in comparison.

Nanami’s got his eyes shut and he’s huffing and puffing through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly the more he stokes his cock. All he can think about is you and the way you bent over in front of him less than thirty minutes ago.

He had half a mind to call you into his office and tell you to bend over his desk the same way— thinking of fucking your tight cunt til’ you’re making too much noise and he has to shove two thick fingers in your mouth to shut you up.

“Fuuck,” It’s rare you even hear him curse so to hear his mouth so vulgar now has you swallowing hard before you lock his office door with a slight click following.

His eyes bat open and he doesn’t bother stopping because he already knew it was you who’d walked in, you’re the only one who does so without knocking.

“Sir?” You utter gently, making his face twist up in arousal.

“Here, now.” Is all he can grunt out to you.

You’re moving toward him obediently with your panties soaking the closer you get. “Mr.-“

“Kento,“ He utters, “Please, fuck-, just… hahh, say my name, sweetheart.”

“Kento,” You correct in a sultry tone, “I didn’t know you were… occupied in here. What if someone else walked in-“

Nanami rolls his eyes at you and then lets off a scoff, “No one but you would,” He huffs, “Now get on my desk.”

You freeze as you find yourself standing right beside his desk, “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself-, just…” He trails off a little once his eyes meet yours and you watch his lashes flutter while his brows pinch together, “Oh fuck, I need… hah, fuuck.”

You chew on your bottom lip before smirking and stepping past his desk, closer to him, “Need what, Ken? Get it out…” You whisper.

“Damn vixen,” Nanami groans as he tosses his head back.

Glancing down at his cock, you watch as his tip grows a bit white— cum peeping out from his fat cockhead and making you swallow thickly.

You then look back up to his face and start leaning down, placing your hands on the armrests of his chair to keep yourself up before uttering, “Do you want me to touch you?”

His response is instant, “God, yes.”

“How?” You murmur with a smirk, shifting your legs so that they straddle one of his, “How do you want me to touch you?”

Nanami opens his eyes and yet again and he grunts at how ridiculously close you are to him, “Anywhere.”

You tease, “Anywhere?”

“Yes, hurry up,” Nanami pleads. His voice nearly went desperate for you and you swore you heard something needy underlining in his tone.

Playing off of that, “Needy are we?” You comment before seating yourself on his thigh.

“Yes,” He gulps and begins to stammer while your arms wrap around his neck, “J-Just-“

Oh he can’t even finish his request before your lips are pressing into his neck and he’s groaning loudly. Cock aching for you whilst your lips move along his tensed skin. Each kiss from you earned groan after groan from him, the sound vibrating against his throat and his hand squeezing his cock tighter.

“Fuck,” Nanami curses yet again as you kiss below his sharp jawline.

“You’re one naughty man, y’know. Did you want me to catch you like this?” You murmur against his warm skin, feeling the way he tenses up to your voice.

Nodding and humming a carefully little, “Mhm,” In response, Nanami’s completely at your mercy now, silently begging for you to continue down the path you’re on.

You smile and glance down to his hand still working his cock, cunt clenching around nothing the longer you stare, “Ken…”

“Y-Yes?” He stutters a bit and mentally curses himself for it— he knows you’ll tease him more about it later.

Planting another kiss beneath his jaw, you chuckle, “You’re drippin’ onto the floor,” You utter so seductively that he just groans and throws his head back again. “Makin’ suuch a big mess all because of… what? Hm?”

“You,” He huffs, “You and that… that fucking skirt,” Nanami says through gritted teeth.

“Well,” You whisper with a slight smile still on your face, “If you have a problem with it you can always take it off of me.”

His free hand is gripping onto your waist faster than you have time to react and you let out a slight noise in surprise. Nanami’s lifting his head and angling himself to your neck, lips latching onto you as he lets out a groan like a man starved.

“Yeah?” He hushes out.

Then he’s pushing you back slightly and releasing his cock, both of you soon shoved to your feet with how quick and swift his movements are. He has you stumbling backwards until you bump into his desk and then there’s a hand grabbing at the side of your neck, tugging you into a deep kiss.

It’s hot and heavy, even as he pulls away from you and pants, lifting a thumb to drag your lower lip down, “Lay back and spread your legs for me then,” Nanami murmurs in that deep tone of his.

You gulp, “Sir, I-“

He cuts you off by slipping his thumb into your mouth, “You said I could get that skirt off of you. Don’t go back on your word and do as I said.”

Gazing at him for a singular moment longer, you lift yourself onto his desk and start parting your legs for the man. His thumb leaves your mouth and his finger is slightly wet as he places his palms to your thighs, slipping his grasp up to your hips and beneath that skirt of yours.

The fabric starts bundling up at you hips and you let out a sigh as you lean your upper half back.

Then, Nanami moves to tug at his tie and sends you a look of warning, “And don’t be too loud like last time… You don’t want others to hear how much of a slut you are behind closed doors, right?”

You release a scoff, “Says the man who was jerking off in his office.”

He freezes before smiling slightly, “Touché.”