#in her head she will always be the victim. everything we do she will always interpret in bad faith; choose the most unkind interpretation

[boyapologist]

on that stage of grieving a friendship breakup where I can't stop thinking "you know what? she was kind of an asshole all along!"

[yieldtotemptation]

WISH ft. Giselle

giselle x male reader smut

8k words

"It's a Christmas miracle!" —is how Giselle chooses to make her grand entrance, swinging open the door to your bar, a fresh powder of snow dusting her shoulders. She shrugs it off. "My favourite person in all of Seoul."

You deadpan, "That's very concerning."

She laughs off your quip with the same ease that she does everything else. Sways her hips, saunters over to you, fire engine-red heels clacking against wood as she rushes to take her usual stool. Not like she'd have to fight anyone for it, there's no one else here.

Besides, even if there were—it's always been hers.

You're sliding over her drink before she can even open her mouth to order, because that's what you do for her. Anticipate. Your job in a nutshell, really. Knowing what she wants.

Her thanks is in the blush colouring her cheeks, flushing them a rosy pink, matching her hair in hue.

Just so immediately pretty.

She raises the drink, grinning at you through the glass. Gets a little too dramatic with her gasp.

"Exactly what I wished for! How did you know?"

"Made a list, checked it twice."

That earns you a giggle, has Giselle leaning forward, propping an elbow on the bar, chin in her palm. Her usual routine—just sitting there, all beautiful and flirty and really, really fucking out of place amongst the dim lighting and worn-out leather.

And yeah, you’ve committed it all to memory, seen it in every light and shadow; the smoky liner ringing around her eyes, the gloss that makes her lips look shiny and sweet and oh so soft. The absolutely devastating smile that never seems to leave her—only gets wider, warmer, parting when she laughs and slaps a hand on the table, or lands it on your forearm.

Accidentally, of course.

"Does that mean I get to sit on your lap later?"

It’s a touch early for her to throw out bait so blatantly. That’s more of a three-drinks-in kind of thing.

Still, your mouth answers for you before your brain can catch up, “Depends if you've been naughty or nice.”

“I think we both know the answer to that one,” she says, far too casually for you to handle, daring you to let that thought linger. Let it rattle around your head with all the other loaded thoughts involving her in various states of undress and in all sorts of compromising positions—underneath, on-top, kneeling. Thoughts that are better kept on a tight leash.

Because you know what would happen if you were to give in to them.

How you’d reach over the bar separating the two of you, pull her onto the counter. Send all the glasses, the bottles, crashing to the floor, and just kiss that smile right off her face, right here, right now. Tear off her clothes and leave her bare and exposed to the cold December air, make her yours, fuck her absolutely senseless. Render her nothing but a victim to your fingers, your lips, your cock, to all the need that’s been boiling inside you over the past months and—fuck.

She's got you good.

There's no point in pretending like it hasn't been this way since the first time she found you—at the end of an alley that's at the end of another alley, down the stairs and into the underground proper. Waltzing her way into the hovel that is your whiskey bar; all for reasons that you’re yet to fully untangle.

Months of performing this same dance—it's late, she walks in, typically perfect and bouncy, like some half-remembered fantasy or a libido-driven hallucination. Only, she must be real, because there’s no way you could ever conjure up someone like her.

It's embarrassing, you really should be far more used to it now, built up at least a partial immunity to her brand of charm. But somehow, she still finds a way under your skin. You’re only human, after all. And she’s… she’s Giselle.

Undeniably, in-your-face gorgeous, Giselle.

Dead-set and determined to throw herself at you until you break.  

"Perfect," is her evaluation when she's taken her first sip. It plays out like it’s been choreographed: she licks her lips, flashes that million-dollar smile, lets loose a sigh of pure joy. Looks at you all wide-eyed and impressed; like you're the only person in the world who's ever given her exactly what she wants. Like she doesn't already live in a reality where everyone else falls flat on their faces to ensure that the needs of Aeri Uchinaga are met. “Always perfect.”

And you have your own steps to follow. You're glued to the pulse in the curve of her neck, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the naked collarbone when she shirks off her coat to reveal tits that are much too ample for her dress to contain. All these little things that make her so fucking distracting.

She says, surreptitiously, "You know, I didn't think you'd be open today."

"And yet you came anyway."

"And yet I did."

There's the loaded insinuation stacked on top of her words like a teasing question mark:

('I came looking for you.'

'I was waiting.')

"Like I said, a Christmas miracle," Giselle repeats, softly this time. Barely audible over the Christmas tunes you’ve got on a loop, some self-inflicted torture you’re wreaking on yourself for purposes unknown. Maybe to get into the spirit of things. Maybe to keep the silence at bay. Maybe to make Giselle's efforts feel less effective.

It doesn't work.

It does, however, have you leaning in just to hear her better, and that's a mistake right there. Getting too close that you can follow the lines of the dress she's picked out for the night. A sheer black, strapless number that hugs her figure close, dipping at her chest, giving you just enough of a glimpse to send the alarm bells ringing.

Ending short of the tops of her thighs, because of course she's wearing stockings, and of course they have tiny little bows holding them up, and you're already thinking about how easy it would be to get your teeth in them and pull them apart, and the walls are starting to feel closer and closer with each passing second.

But you don't say anything. You just try to remember to breathe. You chance a look back at her face, aiming for unaffected.

Her eyes instantly undo you.

Giselle uncrosses and crosses her legs. The stockings stretch.

"Like what you see?"

Now seems like an optimal time to pour yourself a drink. Something strong to fortify the weakness in your knees, to maybe bolster the resolve that's threatening to crack like the ice frosting over the windows outside.

You grab a glass, pour a good measure of whiskey and throw it back without even bothering with the usual ritual. You need it. The burn is a good distraction.

You turn her question back on her. Shame on her for asking something so obvious. "What do you think?"

"I think," Giselle smiles, tilts her head, that curtain of bubblegum-pink cascading over her collarbone and down onto the bar, "That it appears that all the effort I put getting into this tight fucking dress was worth it."

You're unable to stop yourself from saying, "Don’t need the dress if that was the intention." It slips out of you, like an idiot, and you decide to busy yourself by pouring two more drinks, because you really don't know what the fuck else to do at this point.

“Duly noted,” she says, likely adding it to some mental file she keeps on you. Ways to get you to drop your guard. Ways to get under your skin. “But don’t you think unwrapping presents are half the fun?”

You’re rolling your eyes, it’s too much, but Giselle’s too good at this whole thing. Got the two of you sliding deep into the easy rhythm of conversation you've found yourselves in many, many times before; when it's just you and her in the waning hours of the night and you're finding excuses not to close up and she's finding excuses to stay.

And the drinks just compound on it even more. All the alcohol really seems to do is blunt her filter and dull your better instincts, bringing you both to that tipsy point where everything that comes out of your mouths can’t help but sound like shameless innuendos; all terrible ideas that you both absolutely must indulge in.

Talking and flirting and drinking until you’re finally crossing that invisible line drawn over the counter of your bar, forgetting about that ethereal wall of separation that keeps you on the straight and narrow; that would normally stop you from doing things like reaching over and brushing a strand of pink out of her face and over her ear.

You keep your hand there, your thumb padding the soft skin of her cheek. She leans into your palm.

“So,” she says, and it’s accompanied by the kind of pause that holds a whole universe of possibility. She takes a sip of her third drink of the night, her eyes fixated on you, studying the lines on your face. Trying to find the cracks.

“So.”

“Why haven’t you made a move on me?”

She might as well have gathered snow from outside your door and thrown it right at your face. You blink, the warmth of the whiskey in your cheeks fading fast. “Very confident of you to think that I would want to.”

“Don’t dodge,” she chides. “We both know you didn’t open tonight for the amazing business rush. So. Spill. Why?"

You’re about to spout off an excuse—something about a Hippocratic oath, or bartender-customer privilege, but Giselle cuts your lie short before it can even leave your throat.

“You’ve been staring at me like you want to eat me alive every night I’ve been here, and you expect me to believe you’re not interested?” Giselle leans closer, her breath warm on your hand. Her eyes piercing through, stripping away every defence you’ve ever had. “You’re barely hiding it you know? How badly you want me.”

There’s an implicit challenge underneath her words. You get the message loud and clear:

Don’t you know how badly I want you too?

"It's—" you start, before course correcting when you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. You swirl the whiskey around in your own glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light and dance. "Complicated."

"Oh really?" Giselle's eyes light up at that, and you're beginning to feel like you're falling into some trap she's set up. It just hasn’t revealed itself to you yet. "I like complicated. I live off complicated."

"I'll bet," you reply, not missing the fact that she's now taken your hand into hers, threading her fingers through yours. "Probably why you're here so often."

Giselle clicks her tongue, runs it across her lips. You'd die for a taste. "I thought I asked you to stop dodging. But, if you really want to know, I come here because I like the company," she explains, before ending her thought with, "and the attention."

"Because being an idol doesn't give you enough?"

"Not in the way I want it."

"And I do?"

"Not yet," she says, with an air of finality. "But give it time."

The silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of the unspoken. The air in the bar feels charged, like the moment before a storm hits. You're reading her, acutely aware of the things running through her mind, because you can see it in her eyes, because they're the exact same thoughts that’s never left yours.

You want her.

You need her.

She’ll give herself to you.

Giselle’s the first to break the pause. “Ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

The corners of eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and that's about where you realise your fate's been sealed from the start. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. You’re aching already. "What I really want for Christmas."

You don't need a map to know where this is headed. But you still ask anyway. "And what is that?"

"You."

You set down your glass with a clink. "Look, Giselle—"

"Let me finish," she interrupts, and now her hand's sliding up your arm, leaving a trail of static wherever she touches. "For Christmas this year, all I want is for you to do whatever you want to me."

A second attempt, "Giselle—"

"I know you want to. You know I want you to. We've danced around this for too long and I'm running out of ways to subtly tell you that if I don’t get my hands on that perfect cock that I know you're hiding, I just might burn this place to the ground. So," she says carefully, intentionally. Making sure you feel each word coursing through your every nerve ending, winding their way down to your cock, until you’re throbbing in your pants.

Giselle bats her eyelashes. Bites her lip. Leans even closer. Her tits get very close to winning the war against her dress.

"Don't you want to make my Christmas wish come true?"

You never stood a chance. "I do quite like my bar in one piece."

"I do too." Giselle's smile turns devilish. “But I like the idea of having your cum inside me more.”

"Then we better get you out of your clothes."

Only, a slight amendment.

"But keep the stockings on."

—

Giselle kisses you like a woman starved. Messy, sloppy crashes that has her nose bumping into yours and her teeth finding purchase in your lip. She seems determined to leave her mark. You’re more than happy to let her.

It’s a far cry from what you’re used to—the build-up, the slow crescendo where you both pretend that you don’t immediately want to jump to the inevitable—but Giselle clearly doesn’t give a fuck about any of that.

The moment you’ve dragged her over the bar, fulfilled your fantasy and cleared the countertop so the only thing standing between you and her body is the crumpled mess of her dress, she's on you. Moaning, whining into your mouth, desperate. Tongue hunting down yours, pressing into it, trying to wrestle it into submission.

Taking your cheeks into her hands, holding firm, the only thing keeping her steady as you match her hunger, heat against heat. Her taste is everything you've ever wanted—sweet and sharp, like the whiskey burning through your veins, warming you from the inside out.

"God, I needed this," she whispers in the breaths between your kisses, as your hands get adventurous and run down the length of her spine, pulling her closer into you.

You make good on your promise, finding the zip, peeling it down, leaving the fabric to sag off her shoulders. Her skin is cold underneath your fingertips, the curve of her back breaking out in goosebumps. Your touch makes her arch, her back bow, her breasts push up against her dress until it can't hang on any longer and the whole thing pools around her waist.

“Merry Christmas to me,” comes tumbling out of your mouth when you finally get to appreciate Giselle.

The full, round tits, naked and begging for your hands. The smooth curve of her waist, the dip of her stomach. The way her hips flare out, giving way to thighs that you know, just know, will be the perfect grip. And the stockings. Holding up the suspension of your disbelief—she’s so ridiculously out of your league and yet so, so needy for you.

“Fucking gorgeous, Giselle,” you’re telling her, making her sigh, her eyes closing shut as you reach out to fill your hand with her chest. Your touch makes her nipples pebble, stiffen underneath your thumb. She leans back, pushing her chest out even more, giving you as much of herself as she can for you to touch, to tweak, to worship.

And she’s so much smaller than you, so much softer than you’ve ever allowed yourself to believe. The reality of her in your arms is far more intense than any fantasy you’ve ever concocted in the quiet of the night after she’s long gone and left you with nothing but her memory. But she’s giving herself to you now, wanting you to do it all.

Letting you push into her, kiss the skin between her neck and her clavicle, press into her a brand that will linger long after you’ve both unwinded and unraveled each other.

“Just like that,” Giselle whispers in your ear, hands finding your neck, needing you even closer still. “Don’t stop, just keep touching me. You can do whatever you want—tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just don’t stop.”

Nothing else to do but oblige, to give in to your baser instincts, to bring every fantasy, every lurid thought to life. Giselle’s been living in your mind rent-free. Filled it with thoughts of fucking her into oblivion again and again—so you already know exactly where to go, what to do next.

You know to trace the edge of her stocking with your thumb, pressing down on the bow, watching as the skin around it flushes from your touch.

You know to drag your hand up, higher up her thighs, push the hem of her dress to her waist, slip under the elastic of her panties and hold itself there. Leave her trembling in anticipation of your touch.

“Please,” you’ve barely started and she’s already begging, breathless. Needing for you to explore her.

But first, you need to tell her how.

“I’m going to touch you,” you say, voice gruff, and she shudders, her hands tightening around your neck. “I’m going to get my fingers into your cunt, I’m going to squeeze your tits, I’m going to make you scream my name, and you will, because you’re going to be such a good girl for me. Understood?”

Her eyes flash open, meeting yours. Not an ounce of doubt. Just pure need.

“Yes,” she says. A single word that’s more a plea than a response. “Please. Do whatever you want. Make me feel good.”

She just about collapses when you yank her panties down and push your hands between her thighs.

“God—fuck—” and she’s sobbing already.

“You’re so drenched,” you’re remarking, sliding your fingers higher, feeling the wetness that’s been gathering there for who knows how long.

“For you,” she’s gasping, repeating herself, “For you.”

It’s so easy to find the heat of her, to push in and down on the top her mound. Give just the right amount of pressure on her clit that makes her jerk. Makes the muscles in her face twitch, her mouth open wide and moan. It’s a melody in your ears, and you press down harder, swirling now, and you’re beginning to think you’ve found your true calling.

Fuck making her drinks; making her fall apart is why you were put on this planet in the first place.

Her breasts jiggle with every tremble that runs through her, flickering in reach of you, taunting you with their bounce. You can’t help but lean down. Not when they’re calling to you like that.

You lick a path from the base of her neck to her collarbone, and then lower, to one of those perfect peaks that’s been begging for your attention.

Giselle inhales sharp through her teeth, her chest heaving as you start to suck on her nipple. You work your tongue around it, roll it in your mouth until her knuckles turn white against the edge of the bar, her nails digging into surface. The sounds she’s making, these choked gasps that are so raw, so needy.

Showing how good she feels with every part of her body—pushing her breasts up and into your face, her hands tangling in your hair, legs spreading wider, thighs shaking at the effort of staying upright.

You don’t let up, keep going—tongue swirling, fingers moving at double-time over her cunt, her other tit.

Listening to her turn your name into something filthy, something that sounds like a curse.

You pull back off her, cool air kissing the wetness you leave behind, making her quiver, her high, fuck-me heels knocking against wood.

“Giselle,” you say, taking in this look of bliss on her face. The teary eyes, the trembling lip, her cheeks now so very red. “Gonna make you cum now.”

You don’t wait for permission. You already have it. You step forward, lifting her legs up and trapping her atop the bar, spreading her wide open.

Two fingers at first, all at once, no hesitation. Giselle’s pupils blow wide, shocked, teeth bite down on her bottom lip, muffling a cry that you feel in the pit of your stomach. She’s so soaked that you slide right in with ease, a slow push that makes her whine, the slickness making the sounds of your fucking echo over the din of the empty bar.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Giselle stutters, all breathy and desperate. Hands flying to your shoulders, nails digging in. Holding on for dear life, writhing as your fingers curl upwards, pushing up against that magical spot inside that has her clenching.

“Such a good girl,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth like they’ve always been there, just waiting for her to hear them.

The whimper that she makes—the noise alone should be illegal.

“So tight around me,” you tell her, pushing on, focusing entirely on pulling more of these noises from her, doing your best to ignore how hard you already are, how unbearable it is to not be inside her. “So good for me.”

It’s the praise that makes her keen, makes her whine. Pushes herself onto your fingers, trying to get more, trying to get all of you. Just so fucking hot for you.

You can see it playing out across her body, the way she’s losing herself to the pleasure, giving up control of her own functions to you.  So helpless, so beautiful. So fucking delighted to finally have you using her in ways she’s only dreamt of.

You’ve never seen anything like it. You’re addicted before you’ve even had her.

“This cunt is going to feel so good around my cock.”

Giselle's nodding, slurring together a string of yeses and thank yous in response.

Her pussy’s pulsing around your fingers, juices soaking your hand, she’s already so close. So close that you can almost taste the orgasm on her skin.

“You want it so fucking bad, don’t you, Giselle? Want me to fuck you senseless.”

Her eyes are glazed over, barely there. Just stunningly beautiful even in the midst of her desire, and you’re not even sure she’s heard you at all until she’s panting out, “I want it. Need it. So much. Oh, God, please, fuck me with your cock. Make me cum. Make me scream.”

But you get in close, lips to her cheek, a command for only her to hear. “You’re going to cum all over my hand. You’re going to show me how badly you want it. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, please—” is the most she can manage, a harsh whisper that barely gets through. You feel it more than hear it, a shiver running through her, down her spine and up yours. “Do it. Give me more, I need it.”

She’s nothing short of incredible. Writhing under your touch, losing herself to your fingers—there’s never been anything—anyone—like this. Anyone that runs this hot,  that pleads this much, that is so eager for nothing but you, as much of you as you can give.

There’s no excuse for why it's taken so long to get here, why you let every other opportunity skate by. But now’s not the time for regrets. This is all just catch-up. Getting to this moment that’s been burning a hole in your mind. Making up for all the times when you should’ve been bringing her to her knees, should've been marking her up as yours.

“Mine,” you’re claiming, taking her lips once more, feeling the tremble in her chin. “You’re going to be mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” her voice quavers back into your mouth.

She kisses you back like she’s drowning, like you’re the very air she needs to breathe. And it’s all you can do to finger-fuck her faster, pressing deeper into her wetness. It’s filthy, borderline disrespectful the way that you’re owning her now. But it’s all necessary, if that’s what it’s going to take to get to feel her shatter in your arms.

But just as you can feel her hips bucking up off the counter and into your wrist, as she’s about to tip over the edge, you pull back, breaking the kiss, leaving her choking for air.

“Look at me,” you tell her, forcing her glassy eyes to refocus, to snap to yours. “I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to cum so hard for me. You’re going to look at me when you do.”

Giselle opens her mouth answer, but all that comes out is a whiny mewl when you slide your other hand from her tits to the back of her neck, pulling her into you, hard enough that you can feel her pulse drumming against your palm.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” you say to her, adorning her with all these sweet words that absolutely wreck her. And it’s so easy to because all of them fit. Your good girl, your slut, your baby, your whore. She deserves to hear them all. “Take it, take it all for me.”

“Fuck, please, I’m almost—” She tries and fails to put the syllables together—your fingers are too good, too precise in their frenzy. Playing her body, hitting every key, every beat, rushing to that final chorus.

And then it hits her, without warning, just a sigh and then she’s—

“I'm—I'm—cumming!”

Eyes trying to stay on yours, losing focus, turning wild, until she’s barely even there anymore.

Giselle cums.

Locking her in place, rippling across her body. Every muscle tensing, cunt quivering, hips lifting off the bar as her juices paint your hand.

“Thank you, thank you, fucking thank you—"

Her voice dies out, trapped in her throat, her words becoming nonsense as your fingers have her riding waves. You’re utterly transfixed, watching the orgasm rip across her face, melting her down to a messy puddle. Barely hanging on to you, mouth lolling open, eyes screwed shut, breaths coming in sharp and fast.

She’s limbless, her body goes slack, and you debate giving her the space, or even just a second to catch her breath, to come back to reality.

But you just don’t.

You don’t stop moving, don’t stop working her, because something tells you that the last thing she’d want is for you to stop. Something tells you that she’s one of those girls—the ones who love to chase the high. Who love to be pushed, who love to be told that they’re doing so well, that they’re perfect.

And Giselle is.

“Again,” you press into her neck, and she gives you the closest approximation to a nod that she can muster. “Again and again, I’ll make you cum until you can’t walk straight. Until you forget what it was ever like to not have my cock inside you.”

The nods come faster, insistent, following a whine as your fingers slide out of her cunt, all sticky with her juices. You bring it up to her, hold it in front of her face so she can see the mess she’s made of your hand.

Her breath hitches when she opens her eyes, catching sight of your glistening digits. You don’t even need to prompt her; she takes the initiative—she’s sucking your fingers without a second thought.

Moans when she tastes herself, sucking them clean, tongue flicking across your knuckles, pulling them into her mouth, relishing her own flavour.

“So fucking needy for it, aren’t you?”

You withdraw your fingers, enjoying the cry of protest at the loss, but you’ve got better plans for her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, before backing off completely, leaving Giselle empty, her legs wobbly.

You're quick to lose your clothes, stripping yourself off without much ceremony, tossing them aside with little care for where they end up.

And yet Giselle’s eyes rake over you, following your every move—she’s seen you before, you’ve caught her staring at your arms, your biceps, making no secret of assaulting you with her gaze at any chance she can get.

But now it’s the unbuckling of your belt, the vanishing of your jeans, the reveal of your cock. Springing free, hard and heavy.

Giselle wants it. Mouth salivating, pussy leaking at the sight of it. Oh, how she wants it.

It gives her energy, has her reaching out for a touch, a stroke. But you stop her, gently taking her wrist into your hand before she can make her Christmas wish come true.

She even has the audacity to pout. “Haven’t I been good?”

“Good?” You repeat, and you’re laughing. “You’ve been downright angelic.”

The pout quirks into a smirk, and there’s that familiar mischievous spark returning. “Then don't I deserve a little reward?” Giselle’s fingers go to her folds, spreading them apart. Putting her cunt on display, proud to show off how ready she is to be filled. “Like that big, beautiful cock of yours in my perfect little pussy?”

You don’t bother with the usual finesse, there’s no need for that. This doesn’t land anywhere on the normal spectrum of casual hook-ups to making love. This is about fucking. About need, raw and unfiltered.

“So, would you please—"

You’re yanking her by the waist before she can get started, lifting her off the bar and setting her down in front of you. There’s that thrill rushing through her, at being so easily handled, so effortlessly claimed.

She’s panting, breaths fogging up the air between you, waiting for your instruction.

“Get rid of the dress.”

Her compliance is instant—she steps out of her outfit, her panties. Until she’s just standing before you; the charm, the sex appeal, the big beautiful eyes all in view, so full of hope and desperation for the special kind of bliss only you can provide her.

Just Giselle, her fucking gift of a body in a pair of tight black stockings and high stiletto heels.

“Now,” you say, tilting your hips forward, your cock jabbing into her stomach, pressing a stamp of need into her skin. Giselle preens at the contact, practically vibrating at your touch. One more thing— “Beg.”

“Fuck me,” she says. Simply, honestly. With every ounce of her soul. “Fuck me good. Take me. Please. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. I’ve been dreaming of this, of you fucking me just like this, so—please, make it real.”

“Begging’s a good look on you, Giselle,” you murmur, finishing the rest of the thought in your head. ‘You're going to be doing a lot more of it tonight.’

She yelps when you flip her over, force her to brace herself against the bar. Her lovely ass high up in the air, her pussy drooling onto the floor.

You don't bother warning her.

You stuff your cock into her.

She fucking screams.

So wet, so slippery. Sliding in and out of her, forcing her cunt to mould itself too you. So fucking tight that you have to bite back a groan, have to fight the urge to just pound into her, to fuck her into the counter.

But there's still a pace you're setting, a rhythm that’s not quite as frantic as her needy cries. You’re in no hurry, not yet. You want to savour this. The feel of her clenching around you, the way her back arches with every thrust, her palms slapping against the bar top, leaving little smudges of sweat behind.

“God, this—” Giselle tries, but finds herself lost for words, unable to properly articulate just how good it feels to have you inside her. But the noises she makes—whimpers and gasps and moans and groans—speak volumes.

You complete the thought for her— “You fucking love this, don’t you?” You’re grunting, pressing your body to hers, nipping at her ear. Slurring these dirty thoughts like they're sweet nothings, these words of pure filth into her neck. “Love being fucked like this. Been waiting for it for so long. So goddamn desperate for it that you can’t even fucking talk.”

She’s fucking amazing. Not just the feeling—hot and tight and perfect—it’s the way she moves with you. Pure pleasure ricocheting through her, the slap of her ass against your hips, the sway of her tits underneath her, her cunt desperately trying to swallow you whole.

It’s her, her body, so alive and responsive and sensitive underneath yours. Taking your cock so deliciously, her cunt fluttering around like it’s trying to hold onto it, like it’s never going to let go.

“So, so fucking hard,” she’s found her voice, clawing back some level of composure. Enough to tense her cunt, squeeze her walls around you. Needing you to know every inch of her body, every inch of her pussy, needing you to know that it’s all yours for the taking. “God, it feels so good—doesn’t it? Fucking me here. Tell me. Tell me how good I am. Tell me I’m a good girl. Tell me you’re never going to be able to spend another second here without thinking of my pussy.”

You know she’s right, she’s leaving a part of herself here, branded into the very fabric of this bar that’s been your sanctuary. It has you pushing in deeper, a violent thrust of your hips, a little punctuation to drive her point home.

She swallows as you pick up speed, chokes on a half-formed moan—so, so fucking close. But you’ve only just begun.

Grabbing her hair, winding your fist in pink, pulling her up so she's forced to listen. The details on her face are all hazy, her makeups smudged from tears, from where she’s rubbed at her face, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. But that’s not how this goes. That’s not how any of this goes.

“You want to hear how good you’re being for me?” A harsh whisper for her, and it takes so much effort for her to just nod in response. “You want me to tell you all the filthy things I’m thinking? Everything that I’ve been dying to do to you?”

“Yes,” she pleads back. “Tell me, please—I need to hear it all.”

So you do. You lay it all on her. Every unfiltered, explicit thought you’ve had—every depraved fantasy that’s on the tip of your tongue whenever she’s around. You tell her all of it, how much of a whore you’re going to turn her into; how much of a slut you want to make her.

How this isn’t the last time. No, there’s going to be hours, days, weeks of this after.  Of you fucking her here, of her coming to you just to have another taste of your cock. It’s a revelation, a promise, and it fucking ruins her.

“Every single time you've walked into here, every single time you've sat across form me, I've thought about this," you're grunting now, giving in to the urgency that’s been building up in your chest, the pressure that’s been weighing on you for what feels like an eternity. “I’ve thought about bending you over this very bar. Making you beg for it, making you scream out my name when I fuck my cum into you. Making sure every single person out there knows that this cunt is mine to take whenever I fucking want.”

It’s so fucked, the effect that hearing all this has on her. The sound of your voice, your darkest desires, the harshness of your words, it’s all too much for her, it’s everything she’s ever wanted to be told.

You’re unlocking something in her, something she’s never admitted to anyone, not her closest friends, not her bandmates, not even herself. The way you speak to her, the way you’re treating her like a perfect little fuck doll—and you’re realising that maybe, just maybe, it’s because no one’s ever fucked her well enough to find out.

There’s no room here to be gentle, there’s no way in hell she’d ever want you to be. You tighten your grip in your hair, slam into her harder, skin slapping against skin, mixing with the wet sounds of her pussy taking all of you. Each cry you fuck out of her is music, each one a little higher pitched, a little more desperate than the last.

“This is what you want isn’t it?” You’re demanding of her, even when she’s blubbering, barely able to breathe let alone respond. Just trying to hold on.

But you’re not letting her.

You’re taking her to that place that’s beyond words, that’s beyond thought. The place where all she can do is feel and react. And she’s doing that so beautifully, her body shaking, her cunt quivering around your cock. It’s building and building, the things you’re doing to her, saying to her, making her choke on her own spit, making her eyes roll back and her mouth drop open, until all she can repeat, over and over again is your name.

“Again,” she shapes another word, another plea. She’s a total disaster of need. “Please, again, make me cum again.”

“You'll cum when I say you can,” you growl, forcing her to choke on another whine. The strangled noise goes straight to your cock; makes it throb harder inside her, drive deeper into her. You let go of her hair, only to palm her tit, squeezing into the flesh hard. Giselle jolts, a squeal escaping her lips. “But since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you cum before me again. Just this once. Just because it’s Christmas.”

You’re being evil, you know it, she loves it, but it's the best part. She clearly wouldn't want it any other way.

”Yes.” Giselle’s beaming, shivering with excitement. Getting fucked into utter ruins and thanking you for the privilege. “Thank you, use my pussy, do whatever you want, just let me cum.”

That sparks an idea, “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” Giselle pants, not a single idea of what she’s agreeing to. But maybe that's the whole point. “Anything.”

There’s a grin that splits your face that you can’t help, that you don’t bother suppressing. “I’m not going to ask for permission anymore, Giselle. I’m just going to fuck you the way I want. Make you addicted to my cock. Take you how I want, cum in all your holes, fill you up over and over again.”

Giselle’s eyes go wide, nearly stops breathing entirely. So close. Knowing that the next words out of your mouth are going to decimate her completely.

“Gonna make you start the New Year knocked up.”

She freezes.

“God—” Giselle’s a fucking wreck, on the verge of something explosive, something else entirely. “Oh my God.”

She just needs you to give her that push.

“You love it, don’t you? Being made nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

You’re fucking her too hard, hammering into her too roughly, it’s a wonder that she can even manage a stuttered, “I—I—”

“Fucking say it, Giselle,” you say, “Spit it out.”

It’s too difficult for her to fit the words together, to form her reply, so it means all that more when she manages to tell you. “I want it.”

“Want what?”

“Your cum in me. All of it. Until I’m, until I’m—” She’s there, lost in it, in the idea of you ruining her in such a permanent, irreversible way. Or maybe completing her, making her whole, making her perfect for you and only you.

But you’re so close too. Right fucking behind her. All she has to do is say it.

“Until you breed me. Fill me with your cum, give it to me. I need it. Make me your permanent cocksleeve and never let me go. Make me yours—completely, forever yours. Make me your fucking whore.”

“Good girl.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Hits her like a fucking meteor. Leaping right off the most intense high she’s ever climbed. Bucking and quaking against your bar, your cock still impaled inside her, mercilessly undoing her. It’s nothing short of fucking pornographic, fucking depraved the way it’s destroying her.

Seizing her entire body in pleasure, her nails digging into the wood, scraping up marks that will prove to be a sweet, everlasting reminder of the exact moment she became yours. Fracturing her, breaking her apart into a million tiny pieces and then remaking her all over again as something purely sexual—something that only exists for your satisfaction.

“So fucking good, your cock, God it’s you, just you—” Giselle’s words dissolve into a keening cry that shatters the remaining silence of the bar. “Breeding me so good—”

Nothing short of a miracle that she’s still on her feet, that she can still do anything at all. One last thing she needs to do in the dying embers of her lucidity, one final goal—choke your cock with her cunt, wring you dry, make you flood her with your cum.

“Cum, cum, fill me, breed me, give me your—”

“Take it,” you exhale, “Take it all.”

And it’s Giselle in her entirety that overcomes you, overloading your senses with the pure, distilled feeling of just her. The smell of her sex, her perfume, the feel of her curves, her softness, the perfection that is her pussy, enveloping your cock, drenching it in her wetness. These things that you’ll never, ever be able to forget.

But it's her words that make you erupt.

“Breed me, Daddy!”

You cum deep into Giselle’s pussy.

Buried inside her, rushing white hot, thick and heavy. Ropes and ropes of it, spurting inside her, painting her insides, coating her walls until it’s just sheer heat and you making her whole.

Her cunt’s clenching around you, she’s begging, slurring moans and whimpers that there’s no fucking chance you have of comprehending—just basking in the knowledge that they’re desperate, needy sounds that are all for you.

She can’t keep it all in. But she needs to.

Something knocks the architecture out of her legs, but you’re quick enough to wrap your arms around her, holding her tight, keep her on her feet. Keeping her from collapsing entirely, just letting her pulse around you, clench and quiver.

You’re kissing her into the shoulder, cooing these affirmations, keeping her with you, telling her the truth of it all, “Such a good girl, Giselle. Taking my cum so well.”

Giselle can’t say anything. She sobs. Face buried in her hands. Not from pain, not even close. You’ve never seen pleasure look so much like agony. So much like release.

It’s overwhelming.

You try to make a move, take a step back. But Giselle flexes her cunt, clutching you tighter. Reaches back with her hand for your thigh to stop you.

“Wait,” she whispers. "Not yet. Don't move. Keep your cock inside me. Don't let a single drop get out."

You give her the time, because she’s just so perfect like this. So unfathomably gorgeous, all fucked up and cum-drunk. In ways no one should ever be. Like you’ve torn the wings off an angel, brought her down to Earth and made her yours.

You revel in it.

“Take your time,” you breathe; the exhaustion, the strain, the adrenaline pumping through your veins all coming to a head at once. Keeping your cock plugging up her cunt. Leaving all your cum inside.

Neither of you are moving anywhere. Not until she says so.

Giselle laughs.

“Perfect,” she sighs, voice hoarse and shaky. “I knew it would be perfect. I knew you would ruin me like this. God, I don’t ever want to go back.”

You’re laughing too, harsh, airless chuckles that feel like they’re being torn out of your chest. You twitch your cock inside her. “You think you have a say in the matter?”

“I guess I don’t,” she giggles.

You look around at the scene of the crime, the evidence you've left on her. The marks on her skin, her shoulder, her neck. The ruins of her dress, her panties. The tearing of her stockings. Her tear-filled eyes, her smeared mascara, her drooling lips.

And her cunt, so full of you, so very yours.

It’s barely believable. She may not have burned down the bar, but there’s certainly a fire that’s been set. One that’s not likely to die down anytime soon.

It has you swelling inside her all over again.

Gisele feels it.

“Say,” she starts, wriggling her hips against you, making you groan. “You didn’t have any Christmas plans, right?”

Your hands slip down to her hips, idly massaging into the small of her back. “None at all.”

Giselle’s laughter subsides into a contented exhale, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you with a soft smile. Her hand reaches back, caressing the side of your face. “And the rest of the year?”

“Nothing that can’t be cancelled.”

“Good,” she says, her breath sweet against your cheek. “Cancel them all. Close up for the holidays. Shut all the doors. Stay inside with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And do what?”

“Get to work,” Giselle answers, pulling you into a last kiss, threatening to undo you all over again. “You did promise to knock me up by New Years.”

[scarletriddles]

Lost in the fire ˚༄ | S.R

↳ in which the team’s newest case puts your life in jeopardy, at your own accord.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: angst, sprinkle of fluff

warnings: general cm gore/case discussion, fire/arson, injuries related to fire, swearing, references to religion + greek mythology, friends to…? (they’re in la-la-la-love, your honour), some possible inaccuracies (sorry!), small jemily mention because lesbian rights, hopeful ending, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person narrative.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: my first ever fic i’m very nervy🫣i’m not expecting this to gain any sort of traction, but lmk how you find it, i suppose!

“Haley Bradstone, aged twenty-five, and Laura Kilmey, aged twenty-seven, are the most recent victims in a series of murders in Detroit, Michigan. Both victims were discovered four days apart, and only five miles away from each other, their bodies disposed of in black FIBC bulk bags that were left in trash-sites.” JJ pauses, her gaze flickering between the team, almost hesitant as her thumb circles the silver remote. But, with a clearing of her throat, she continues. “Cause of death for both victims has been ruled asphyxiation…by smoke inhalation.”

You abruptly halt toying with the frayed edges of the case file, your eyebrows shooting up and head lifting to look at her, and then also at the rest of the team - who look just as bewildered.

“Sorry, did you just say smoke inhalation?” You ask, genuine confusion weighing down your tone.

JJ nods, her expression dismayed as she eyes the two beaming faces displayed on the board. “Yes, as laid out in the case files, high levels of carbon monoxide, hydrogen cyanide and hydrogen sulphide were found in both victim’s lungs. The coroner also noted soot around the victim’s faces, and TBSA burns, all of which are synonymous with death via smoke inhalation.”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning is actually the leading cause of death in smoke inhalation - causing approximately 2,100 deaths in the U.S each year.” Spencer adds, followed by his familiar flat smile, which he usually does when he doesn’t know what to do with his face - which happens to be always.

You blink, with a slight quirk to your lips, despite the circumstances. Trust your good doctor to know just about everything.

“Were there reports of any fires around the general area?” Hotch pipes up, his face set in his usual stony expression, though his eyes betray his pensiveness.

JJ shakes her head, adjusting her stance. “No, which is what makes this stranger. The DPD reported no calls about any sort of fire on the days our victims were killed.”

“What? So our unsub just…lit a bunch of fires in plain sight?” Derek questions, with a flick of his brow, his gaze alternating between the board and the manilla folder in his grasp.

You huff, turning to face him with a slight smile, musing. “Must be one hell of a magician.”

Derek smirks in general bemusement, his dark eyes swirled with mirth, his tone light as a feather as he shifts in his scratchy office chair. “Looks like it, lil mama.”

Ever the smooth talker.

“Or, he could be using a secondary location.” Emily chimes in, her narrow-eyed gaze set firm on the file in front of her, her slender fingers fiddling with a bullet-point pen, and her lips contorted into a reflective pout.

“That’s plausible, but you’d think at least someone would notice.” Rossi adds, with a slight huff of incredulity, his calculating gaze sweeping across the entire room before him.

The two smiling faces are quickly joined by two more, both just as radiant, both just as nausea-inducing. Those poor girls.

“We don’t know for sure. But, the most recent victims join twenty-eight year old Sarah Holloway, and twenty-two year old Jessica Bailey. Who, similarly, were found four days apart, five miles away from each other and dumped in black FIBC bags, also ruled dead via asphyxiation. However, Sarah and Jessica’s dumpsites were around 14 miles away from Haley and Laura’s.” JJ purses her lips faintly, eyes still fixated on the crime scene photographs of four similar looking women who didn’t even live properly yet, robbed of the chance to, just like Poseidon robbed Medusa of her autonomy, on the marble steps of her deity’s temple. The thought alone just worsens the crease between her brows.

“four victims…why are they only just asking for our help, now?” Spencer ponders, features frozen in contemplativeness. His fingers sweep up to push his black-rimmed frames back to their previous position on the bridge of his nose.

God, you love his glasses.

JJ’s face morphs into a faint grimace, as she replies in a reluctant tone. “Unfortunately, the media managed to connect the dots on this one, they’re dubbing our unsub ‘the smoke-killer.’ But, the DPD really needs our help with this.”

You sigh, eyes trained on the gruesome imagery displayed on the silver screen. No matter how long you’ve been with the BAU, the violence never quite gets bearable for you, though you can’t bring yourself to look away - like witnessing a car-crash. You understand the psychology behind it, shock rooting the human body in place as the brain tries to comprehend that what it’s processing is real.

But, guilt still flows around in your system like the Noachian flood. Maybe, if you thought about it hard enough, you’d feel the ark bashing against your innards as it tries to navigate the brutal waves.

You suppose the violence doesn’t get easier for the team, either. Perhaps that’s what keeps you all tethered to each other, bonded. After all, the Greeks did beat the Trojans in unity - and disguised as a large, ligneous horse, but you digress.

Hotch nods, solemnly. “Alright, we can discuss further on the jet. Wheels up in 20.” And with that, he abruptly stands up, striding out of the room with a sureness in his step that only he could possess, effectively putting an end to the briefing.

The screen then goes dark, the car-crash finally being attended to. The sounds of chairs scraping across the frizzled navy carpeted floor and paper rustling bounces around the small space, as everyone heads out and into the bullpen, all but the exception of spencer, who remains seated, brooding over his manilla file as though he’s a modern day Thomas Aquinas. always thinking. You muse to yourself, though your eyebrow still raises in question nonetheless.

“Reid, you coming?” You probe gently, standing in the doorway with a faint grin. Your eyes flickering like fairy-lights all around his hunched-over frame.

Spencer startles slightly, craning his head up from the file and over to you - a rosy hue creeping up the nape of his neck from the sight of you alone. He swallows, standing up suddenly, and pushing his chair out with his hip, as he breathes out. “Uh, yea-yeah i’m…i’m coming.” He collects his things quickly, scrunching up his case file as he slings his satchel over his shoulder. Though, it doesn’t really matter, he’s already memorised it from start to finish. Eidetic memory and all.

He flashes you his signature flat smile once again, as his muddy hues rake over your appearance. You look pretty today, well he thinks you always look pretty, but today especially. Your hair swishes around your face in wisps like cotton-candy, your frame adorned in your usual grey fitted slacks, paired with a pink striped puff sleeved button down and black leather boots.

He believes you’re the personification of an angel, and with the way the abnormally-harsh office lighting is dancing around your hair in a nimbus-like manner, he’s probably right.

“C’mon then doctor genius, we have an hour long flight to catch.” Your voice rolling out with a teasing lilt, a subtle smile curled around the edges of your glossed lips.

Spencer usually loathes being referred to as a genius, namely because it’s said with such obvious sneer and condescension, like he’s an abnormal form, like he’s still that twelve-year-old high schooler. But, you never say it with thinly-veiled disgust, no, you say it with such reverence- like it’s something to be admired.

Yeah, angel.

He mirrors your smile, eyes soft and starry eyed as he follows you out of the room. “one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 seconds.” He corrects softly, always keen for specifics, his satchel smashing against his upper-thigh periodically as he walks beside you.

You huff in amusement, rolling your eyes in jest. “Right. My bad, one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 second long flight.” Your head tilts up slightly to look up at him, your irises dipped in unsubtle gaiety,

Spencer lets out a huffy laugh of his own, shaking his head in amusement. He loved when you teased him, though he’d never admit that. At least, not to you anyway.

“Oh, forgive me for being specific.” He sounds out, airily, like a dish-soap bubble crafted by small exploring hands, as he places his own ridiculously large palm on his chest in mock-offence.

“more like particular.” You reply, just as you reach your desk, in faux-annoyance, the curl of your lips betraying that fact.

Spencer puffs out another slight laugh in response, as he leans against the edge of your desk, watching you comb through it. His gaze doesn’t settle, darting around the array of trinkets and just general stuff aligning the glossy oak, including the multiple pots of bright pens - some looking vaguely like the ones he’s seen scattered around Penelope’s ‘bat-cave’ - and even a stick-figure drawing of him scribbled onto a canary yellow sticky-note, featuring overly large glasses and converse, which are more akin to clown shoes, alongside an equally as dramatised stick-figure version of Morgan, complete with a badly scrawled out six pack and huge biceps.

He feels a warmth blossom in his chest as looks over the cluttered space. It’s just so irrevocably you.

“particular or not, i still believe everything-“ He begins.

“-everything should be accurate, wherever possible” You mock affectionately, with a barely hidden smirk, still rooting through your things like a squirrel digging for an acorn.

A slight pout forms on his face, bordering on more petulant than anything. “How’d you even know I was going to say that?”

A faint effervescent giggle slips past your lips, your head still firmly pulled down, as your hands continue their wandering through your desk drawers. “ ‘Cause you’ve said that line at least a dozen times now, doc.” You drawl out, still grinning to yourself.

He wants that sound to be his morning alarm.

He rolls his eyes, only half-seriously, a smile lighting the corners of his mouth up like a vegas ‘welcome’ sign. “I have not said that a dozen times!” He huffs out, with a shake of his head at the injustice of it all, his dark curls springing with the movement.

You just smile, continuing to rifle through your desk before you locate what you were looking for, quickly straightening up and collecting the rest of your things before turning to him.

“Well, I’m all set doctor, lead the way.”

“Is that just so you don’t get lost again?” he replies, with an overt teasing twinkle.

You groan, blowing out like a whistle “that was one time! i was still new, and the hallways are confusing!”

He just bellows out a laugh, pushing up off the edge of your desk and beginning to walk - more like stride - his way to the elevators. You in tow, but just barely. His legs are way too long.

“I can put a sign on my back that says, ‘follow me’, if needs be.” He throws behind his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up!” You bark out, not really with any bite. Never with him.

It had been about three days since you landed in Detroit, Michigan. Most of that time being spent cramped up in the tiny makeshift office curated for the team, downing copious amounts of coffee, reading files until the backs of your eyes burned and dodging the borderline leering looks from the mid 40-year-old, beer gut endowed cops.

In other words, it was hell.

The team had made some progress, though. Narrowing down the profile to a white male in his early to mid thirties, who works a menial job, of average height and build, and who clearly dislikes women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow down the ‘Where’s Waldo’ search by much. But still, you really just couldn’t shake the obvious question…

Why go through all the trouble of burning these women, but not completely, just to dump their bodies?

And it seemed that question floated around the backs of everyone else’s mind, too. It was bizarre, to say the least.

Currently, the team is all stuffed in said aforementioned makeshift office space, like sardines in a can, no less. Emily and JJ sat at the table together, as usual, Derek propped up against the wall, Hotch and Rossi stood brooding in the corner of the room, quietly discussing something between themselves, leaving you and Spencer situated in front of the board, where the geographical profile is mapped out.

“He’s operating within a 20 mile radius, dumping the bodies within an area he’s comfortable in. He’s either going to strike here.” Spencer points to a spot on the map with his finger, tapping against it slightly before dragging it across and towards another spot, “or here.” His features were swamped in pondering thought, his honeyed gaze encompassing the sight in front of him.

“Yeah, but i still don’t understand why he’d go through all the trouble of burning them till they die from smoke inhalation, and then discarding the bodies. jus’ seems a lil’ pointless t’ me” Morgan drawls out, his stance wide and his arms folded, one of his hands resting on his chin.

“well ain’t that the million dollar question.” You reply, with a sigh lathered in perplexity, your arms folded in a similar manner, but with one of your hands rubbing up the side of your arm, in a absentminded fashion.

“Morgan’s right, it doesn’t make any sense.” Hotch pauses slightly, contemplating - like everybody else in the room. His dark eyebrows stitched together, and his lips set in a taut frown.

“None of it makes sense, i mean, even the dumping method, why bulk bags and not just plain ol’ trash bags?” Emily questions, sitting back in her seat with an exhale, her legs crossed with her boot-clad foot tapping against one of the legs of the rickety table.

You blink, a thought coming to you at her question. “Theres a Hardware store in the middle of town, right?” You throw out, hands stuffed into the pockets of your black slacks.

Hotch’s brows furrow, as he regards you. “Yes, why?” He says simply, almost curiously.

You shrug, “so then he’d probably be getting the bulk bags from there, since it’s easily accessible.”

Everyone goes silent at your question, seemingly mulling it over, before Morgan responds.

“If so, why wouldn’t he just buy trash bags?” He says, with a cock of his brow.

“Because he wants the victims to be found.” Spencer states, plainly, piling onto your train of thought and rocking back and forth on his heels, as his tongue darts out, swiping his slightly dry bottom lip.

“Think about it, a bulk bag is much more conspicuous than a simple trash bag, he wants his handiwork to be seen - maybe not right away, but he knows at least one person would find the presence of a large plastic bag near a dumpster to be…alarming, whereas no one would bat an eye at seeing a trash bag. Same goes for his M.O, he most likely has some sort of access to an incinerator, perhaps due to his job, which allows him to discreetly ‘burn’ his victims, before dumping them in a way which derives notice.”

His hands flail around wildly as he talks, an endearing habit that makes it seem like he’s so excited to talk about what he’s discussing that, at the minimum, one part of his body has to move with the speed of his mouth.

You smile - more of a secret thing, really, just for yourself - you love listening to that man talk. It’s the eighth wonder of the world, to you.

Everyone nods, the notion seemingly settling into their psyche without much problem, as logically, it did make sense.

“If thats the case, then we have a problem.” Rossi scratches the side of his jaw lightly, his head tilted and his bronze hues directed at the table.

Emily raises her brow, in clear need of clarification. “What problem?” She murmurs out, her head cocked to the side, questioningly.

“We have an unsub who wants attention, and will stop at nothing to get it.” Hotch adds on, sharing a brief glance with Rossi, his expression more grave than usual, before he fishes out his phone, dialling a number and setting the onyx Nokia down onto the table. “Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

“Hello, my favourite crime-fighters! To what do i owe the pleasure?” The shrill cheery voice of Penelope Garcia rings out, immediately bringing a small smile to your face. She really was like bathing in sunshine.

“We were wondering if you could take a look at a hardware store’s sales within the last month, more specifically of FIBEC bulk bags.” Hotch drags out, his arms still folded and his face betraying nothing but his usual stoicism.

“Oh, that i can do upside down with my hands tied, sir! just…one…second.” Penelope’s voice hauls out, followed by the rapid clinking of keyboard keys. “What’s the name of the store?” She asks, her tone focused.

“Sally’s Shack” Hotch replies, his tone equally levelled.

After a few moments, and a lot more keyboard clicking, Penelope finally pipes up again. “Ah-hah! so, it appears that our shack in question has sold six FIBEC bulk bags within the last month, all to the same buyer - well, at least the same credit card was used, ending in 4678.”

Hotch looks visibly taken aback slightly, before he asks “Can you get a name, Garcia?”

“Already on it, sir.” Penelope replies, with her usual peachy tone.

A tense silence follows, only sporadically broken by the clickity-clack of Penelope’s rainbow pastel keyboard. Then, she pipes up again.

“Okay…looks like the card belongs to a 33-year-old, Mr. Eugene Humphrey, who currently works at…” Her words trail off, obvious hesitance behind them “…burns funeral home and crematory, and owns a residence just in the middle of town.”

Everybody seems to pause, then. He matches the profile - Mid thirties, works a menial job which would give him access to a ‘discreet’ burning method and just so happened to purchase the same material used by the unsub, whilst also owning his own property not too far away from the hardware store in which the material was purchased…yeah that can’t be a simple coincidence.

“Pen, does he have a criminal record of any kind?” Your voice floats out, drifting through the confined space like Thumbelina on her shamrock lily-pad.

“I will have a looksie for you now, my sweet sugar muffin, just hang on one second-“ Penelope cuts herself off as her fingers begin their ministrations again, the keyboard rumbling with every tap, a smile edging on your face at the absurd term of endearment.

“Alright…looks like our guy spent six months in juvenile detention when he was sixteen for lighting his girlfriend’s car on fire, claimed he caught her cheating on him with his best friend, youch!”

You can practically see the cogs turning in your teammates heads, looks like you got your guy.

“Okay, thats good garcia, could you-“

“-send his information over? already done, sir.” promptly interrupting the low voice of your unit chief, in a way that is so Penelope, that he can’t really object.

“Thank you Garcia, We appreciate it” Hotch replies in his typical authoritative tone.

“You’re welcome, my gorgeous gods and goddesses, now go and save lives.” Penelope chirps out, swinging on her swanky desk chair, her hands now preoccupied with a bright pink fluffy pen.

“You’re the best, babygirl.” Morgan calls out, his tone suave and a smirk illuminating his features.

Penelope lets out a giggle, replying in her token-teasing articulation. “Only for you, my chocolate thunder, now ta-ta!” Her sing-songy voice sounds out with finality, before the line drops, indicating that she ended the call.

“Alright, everyone, looks like we’re scoping a funeral home. I’ll go inform the captain, and i need all of you to gear up, as a cautionary, is that clear?” Hotch demands, his gaze expectant.

resounding murmurs of “yes” fill out the area, to which the dark-haired agent replies to with a curt nod, before swiftly exiting the room.

You let out a breath, turning to the rest of the team with a faintly reluctant expression. “Let’s get this show on the road then, guys.”

Morgan flashes an easy smile, coming up behind Spencer and clapping him on the shoulder, his smooth voice infused with teasing. “You heard her, pretty boy, let’s get moving.”

Spencer has to resist an eye-roll, his cheeks immediately flushing raspberry red, whereas you just let out a small confused laugh - clearly not in on whatever inside joke that seems to be playing out - turning on your heel and prancing out of the room, leaving the two of them to squabble like 10-year-old brothers.

Though, on your way out, you swear you saw Emily squeeze JJ’s hand underneath the table…

Something went wrong. Terribly wrong.

You don’t know how - hell, nobody on the team knows how, but Humphrey somehow found out you were coming. He might’ve gotten some frustratingly accurate in-tell, or maybe he just… knew. After all, bad news attracts bad news, right? And being arrested for the murders of four women sure seems like pretty bad news. Or maybe he was a paranoid fuck. Either thought seems plausible, but currently pointless.

Ironically, Burn’s Funeral Home and Crematory, was well…burning. The two-story high foundation, which you’re guessing was once a depressing waxen colour, is now engulfed in orange. Bright, blazing orange, and for a moment, you almost believe the sun crash-landed onto earth.

The ignited shades dance across your features , making you look like you’re almost glowing. You hear Morgan let out a few curses, and Emily mutter something eerily close to “Oh my God” under her breath. But, the rest of you remain silent, devoid of speech, heads lifted up and staring at the fiery wreckage. Drawn in, entranced.

You can’t pull your eyes away, Not even when Hotch snaps out of his own silent gazing and begins to talk around you, shooting out instructions like darts to your co-workers. Well, until you hear a fire-man trudge past you, in full PPE and carrying a winding anaconda-like hose, writhing along the gravelled floor with each step he takes, similar orders being barked out of his mouth to his team-mates. But, that isn’t what grabs your attention, it’s the information coming from his radio.

A mother and her child are stuck in there, apparently looking for a casket for her husband before the building went up in flames, and they aren’t even going to attempt to save them - something about the fire being “too large, too risky.”

A mother and her child. Her 8-year-old little girl who just lost her father, and now is going to lose her own life, trapped in a scorching maze.

Not on your watch.

You will not, cannot, let this sick bastard take another girl’s life.

Your legs move before your brain even has time to catch-up, darting straight past multiple fire personnel who all try to stop you, but you dodge each one. Not even the sounds of the team shouting your name halts you, your figure retreating straight into the raging inferno.

What’s that saying? Moth to a flame?

Well, consider the molten-structure your flame. Because you won’t stop, will not stop, not until the mother and her daughter are out. Safe.

Either way, God appeared before Moses in the form of a fiery bramble. And maybe, he was doing it again, instead for their freedom, not yours or a 120-year-old man’s. You were getting them out of this desert, even if there were no miles of grainy-sand and the occasional tumbleweed, but instead hot, piercing, smouldering heat.

Spencer’s astute brain doesn’t take long to register what the hell you are doing. And, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so panicked. He practically screeches your name, moving to go after you, but with no such luck as Morgan and Hotch hold him back. But he fights, and he fights harder than he’s ever had in his life, because this is you.

“Let me go! she’s in there! you can’t just let her go in there!” He shrieks, every word sharpened with utter desperation.

Neither Morgan’s nor Hotch’s replies to his incessant wailing actually penetrates his mind. He feels like he’s underwater, succumbing to the depths of the Mariana Trench, fading black and blue.

The water freezes over the longer you’re in there. Trapped in that dismal, enflamed formation. He feels sick, but he knows spilling his stomach content won’t provide any relief, it’s a sickness that’s lodged itself into his bones, into his very being. He wonders if this is what the Woolly Mammoths felt like during the first coming of the glacial-period, just observing as they, one-by-one, all perished to the frost.

He can’t have lost you. Not before he-

…Not before he could tell you that you’re his first thought when he wakes up, and his last before he surrenders himself to the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

No, this can’t be it. He refuses, he downright rejects the thought.

He just stares, and stares at the lit up property, his whole entity screaming for you to just make it. His mind and mouth spinning prayers to god’s he doesn’t even believe in because if there was any chance of that turning the cards in your favour, then he’s taking it and holding on tight.

The seconds feel like minutes, the minutes like hours. Time is a fickle thing, always stretching and compressing back together again depending on someone’s emotions. But, that philosophy does nothing to distract him from the ache. Because a life without you in it, he grasps, isn’t a life at all. Not one that he wants to live, anyway.

Two soot-covered frames emerge from the fiery entrance, immediately being swept away by fire-personnel for medical treatment. And his heart stops, until he realises you aren’t either of those coughing figures.

Where are you? Why aren’t you coming out?

Time seems to stretch again, expanding like a black-hole over his fitful, beating heart. Ready to consume, ravage. But, maybe, that would be an act of mercy, anything would be an act of mercy compared to the waiting. Agonising, hoping and waiting.

Then…a third figure finally bursts out of the flames. He’s seen that mop of hair before, he knows that hair. Even at a fair distance, hunched over and simultaneously gasping for air and hacking your lungs up, tousled, with skin embedded in ash, You’re beautiful and you’re alive.

You’re alive.

He pushes his body forward and he runs, he sprints and goes to you. And this time, Hotch and Morgan let him.

[reignpage]

Vice President!Sukuna

Quisling: crumbling defences

Contents: just a little insight into a day with modern au!sukuna and his president, there's cursing, slight sexual language (very minor), mostly fluff, a little angsty

“Having conducted semi-structured interviews with a substantial number of students and staff across all departments,” you prattle on, standing on the stage of Conference 3 in front of the other members of the Student Council and key senior members of faculty, “our research led us to conclude that security around campus could be improved in various ways, beginning with installing more lamp posts in certain areas, such as around the green house, which as you know has been targeted by the campus vandal informally known as ‘Cursed Womb’.” 

These meetings are always so tedious, and they last far longer than they should, always overrunning for reasons that escape you every time. As you summarise the weeks and weeks worth of work you’ve been doing into a short, snazzy powerpoint presentation, you can’t help but think about the mountain of paperwork waiting for you back in your room, covering the entire surface area of the desk until you’ve actually had to move onto your bed to work. 

It’s an irritating stain in your otherwise clean and tidy room; you aren’t a messy person. Everything has a place and everything is in its place. But the class action against Professor Mahito has overtaken your life. When you’re not talking to the lawyers Sukuna has hired, you’re hosting support sessions with the other victims or writing up notes on every meeting, jotting down times and collecting as much evidence as possible.

“Y/n, if I may interject,” a shrill voice interrupts you, “are you suggesting that the disruptive behaviour of a deranged individual can actually be discouraged with a few light bulbs.”

Light laughter breaks out. 

Your left eye twitches. 

Some of the trustees and senior lecturers with tenure, and decades of research upholding Eden’s reputation, have been undermining you. They interrupt, disregard, and scoff at your suggestions. And you know it isn’t because your work is insubstantial or lacking in anyway at all. The simple truth is, they are friends with Mahito, and you are now their enemy. 

When he slid his hand up your thigh during a one-to-one support session over time management, you could only shift uncomfortably, and clear your throat. You hadn’t said no, is Mahito’s rebuttal to the skeleton argument your team had sent to the courts. And now his other professor friends have been holding it over your head. 

You didn’t say no. 

That mistake is haunting you. 

“Professor Jiro, respectfully,’ a pink-haired guy in the corner drawls, ‘research displays that crime rates decreases by a significant amount after increased visibility. It does, in fact, discourage criminal behaviour. And if you let my president continue, she’ll tell you all about how lamp posts are just one part of her overall plan to tackle crime on campus.”

He’s leaning back in his chair, a pen dancing fluidly between his fingers to a subconscious rhythm, spinning and pivoting effortlessly with a flick of his wrists. A habit of his when he gets restless and irritated. 

You hate that you know that. 

Silence befalls the conference room once more. 

You clear your throat and gesture to the projected slide behind you. “We should install lamp posts across campus, especially through the field behind the Psychology department which many students have reported feeling uncomfortable crossing to get to the Southside Halls at night.”

And the presentation carries on as planned, still a little over time, but otherwise uneventful. The staff members file out, leaving you and the other council members to pack up. 

“Hey, sorry to leave so soon, y/n, but I’ve got to help Gojo out with something,” your treasurer says. 

She’s got an apologetic look on her face and you sigh. 

“He’s not bothering you, is he?” You shuffle the papers in your hand. “Alpha Phi Delta has proven troublesome time and time again for the council, even before Gojo’s presidency.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Frat and trouble tend to go hand-in-hand, don’t they?”

The deadpan expression on your face is the only answer she needs and you wave her goodbye, watching her black figure weaving away, going god knows where to do god knows what for the sunglasses-wearing, second-biggest pain in your ass. 

“She gets to go and I have to stay? Playing favourites, prez?”

And the first biggest pain your ass speaks up, leaning back in a chair a couple of metres away from you, having moved unnoticed by you somehow. He’s balancing precariously on the chair’s back legs, his legs draped over the table, and eyes sparkling at you. 

You ignore him. 

His eyes narrow. “Why’d you let that bald headed old man interrupt?”

You gulp. 

“Did you get the minutes down, Sukuna?”

A ping goes off on your phone and, like a reflex, you pick it up. He’s sent you an email with a subject line titled, ‘Obviously.’ You resist the urge to smack him over the head with the stack of papers in your hands. 

“You really shouldn’t let those old fucks talk over you like that.”

“Fuck. Off. Sukuna.”

He ignores you. “You coming to our hearing later? The lawyers got the warrant approved for the CCTV recordings.”

Your hands still and when you turn he’s looking at you with a firm stare, daring you to make an excuse not to come. He’s been like this the entire time, pushing you further and further and deeper and deeper into this protest, placing you at the centre of it all. You don’t want to be. You’ve done your part by making a statement and signing up as a defendant, and just that small step had forced you back miles. 

People glare at you, whispering ‘liar’ and ‘whore’ to themselves, and the staff interrupt and ignore you, whittling you down into a little girl, instead of the President of the Student Council of Eden University. 

Even some of the city papers have taken a stance against your cause, claiming that Mahito has contributed so much to the development of the university and his field, advancing understanding of the human psyche, that there's no way he could ever be the monster you and the other girls claim he is. 

Sure, those hateful, short-sighted adversaries of the cause are far and few in between — most people have been kind, supportive, and passionate for your cause — but you can’t help but think about all the people that don’t believe you. 

You’ve worked too hard to be disregarded. 

“I don’t know.”

Sukuna scoffs, heat rising to his eyes. 

“The losers getting to you? Is that it? They scaring you off?”

You can’t stand the judgmental tone of his voice, that undercurrent of anger weighing down every word like he’s pelting you with tomatoes in the town square. He has no right. Your chest begins to rise and fall with shallow breaths, your palms growing clammy, and you feel your cheeks burn. 

“Fuck you. You don’t get to judge me! You don’t get to say my coping is right or wrong. You said it yourself. You’re only in this to have something to add to your CV, so that your political career will begin with a legacy of ‘fighting for the innocent and the voiceless’ and whatever other shit you’ve got.”

Everyone else has cleared out, maybe having done so way before this conversation began. It’s just you and your number one enemy staring at each other, the fire raging between your figures suffocating the large room, swallowing all oxygen. 

You’re becoming lightheaded. 

You hate arguing, hate shouting, hate all types of negative energy. It’s bringing tears to your eyes and you flush even harder. There’s no way you’d ever be able to face him if you cry. 

Sukuna lowers his long legs to the floor, standing up to his full height behind the desk. He tucks his hands into his varsity jacket pockets and scans your body from the tip of your shoes to the top of your head. The look on his face resembles disgust, and you wonder if that’s what he sees when you look at him. 

“If you seriously think I’m only in this for my career, then I guess I’m a bigger monster in your eyes than I initially thought.”

You inhale sharply like you’ve just been punched in the gut. 

And he’s turning away, broad back growing smaller and smaller as he nears the doors. You take a step towards him like you can’t hep yourself. Your fingers itch to grab his jacket sleeve, to apologise, and explain yourself. 

But did you even say anything wrong?

No, Sukuna’s manipulative. Always has been, always will be. This guilt wracking through your body is what he wants you to feel so you’ll cave, so you’ll devote yourself wholeheartedly to this class action. And once you do, surely the chances of success of the suit against Mahito and the university will increase, and he’ll win, and he’ll be set for every campaign he ever runs for the rest of his life. 

You’re so sure of this, so set in your analysis of his character that you force your body to still. You don’t chase after him, you don’t even open your mouth to argue back, to have the last word. 

He stops right before he opens the door, tilting his body ever so slightly to channel his words to you and you only. 

“I wish you could see how strong you actually are. Maybe then you wouldn’t let them get the best of you.”

Your nails dig into your palm. 

“See you around, y/n.”

———

Is it guilt that brought you to the hearing located in an empty office just a ten minute walk from campus? Or the sudden realisation that Sukuna’s right?

It can’t be the latter. 

If society began accepting that devil spawns like Sukuna actually have moral high ground in some situations then the world will never know peace. 

That’s what you keep telling yourself as you push the door open, cringing at the creak, and ignoring the eyes that dart over to you as you settle into a seat at the back. The place is full of students tonight — there are the girls who have been victimised by Professor Mahito, and the friends they’ve brought along for moral support. There are also lawyers and paralegals typing furiously to the side but they quickly become invisible when your eyes settle on a fiery pair already fixated on you. 

He’s not smirking like he always does, like you had expected him to be. There’s not a drop of arrogance or amusement in his eyes, and that makes you feel worse. This hadn’t been a game from the start. Looking now at how he’s organised the whole thing, using his family’s money and connections to get something concrete going, you realise he’s been more into this than you have been. 

One foot has only ever been through the threshold for you, if even that, but Sukuna? Sukuna’s had his feet planted firmly on the ground, placing himself at the forefront of the whirlwind. And you had shrugged off his efforts for justice as mere pragmatism and a feeding of his political agenda. 

You’re a terrible person. 

Mouth zipped and hands clasping each other, you sit there, watching intently every detail presented on the TV screen. Every CCTV recording available displaying Mahito’s advances on a terrified first year in the hallway, against a library bookshelf, in the park, and so on and so forth. 

The evidence is so irrefutable, so in your face, you feel stupid you had ever doubted the class action. And looking around, the horror on people’s faces as they watch the real monster at work highlight just how necessary it is to put things on the line for the greater good. Sukuna had realised that and you didn’t. 

Some kind of president you are. 

Eventually the night draws to an end, conversations fizzle out and people file out one by one. The lawyers had given everyone a thorough talking to, advising everyone not to share any details about the case, the contents of the recordings, and to stay vigilant about any protestors who may be looking to deter the movement. 

There's a sense of hope fizzling in the air, like a weight lifted. Still, there's a long way to go but there's no doubt in anyone's mind that the win is within reach.

You stand outside the office building, just at the top of the stairs, watching the last people disappear into the night. It’s a little cold, winter is approaching after all, but you’ve forgotten your coat. Some things just keep slipping your mind these days.

“Changed your mind, huh.”

Without needing to look, you already know who it is. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with its low tone and deep cadence, a mocking undercurrent always running through every word, lacing it with something sweet and poisonous. 

You glance at him. He’s wearing the clothes he had on earlier, hair ruffled slightly and you want to fix it. On the other hand, you’ve stopped by your dorm to freshen up, feeling a sudden need to be thoroughly scrubbed and cleansed. But you had mistakenly put on a thin sweater and tied your hair up, forgetting the time and place, like you could only think about what he was going to say or do when he sees you there. 

“Yeah,” you begin, mulling the words in your head before speaking them into fruition, “I suppose, after much consideration, I realised you had a point.”

Sukuna laughs. It’s dark and menacing, the kind a sadist lets out in a horror movie. And it makes you shiver. You want to hear it again. 

“What a long winded way of saying ‘you’re right, Sukuna’.”

The way he says it makes your eyes twitch. He’s put on a shrill, overly feminine voice and practically moaned his own name. That’s probably how all the girls he’s been with has said them. 

A blush is rising to your cheeks and you descend down the stairs, feeling him follow behind you. “It’s just one time. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Yeah, well, it was good to see you there.”

You’re both walking down the road, you don’t dare acknowledge that his apartment is on the other side of the campus, and he doesn’t mention his intentions. Being side by side, this close, makes your palms sweat. His jacket sleeve brushes against your arm and you move to the left slightly. 

Sukuna only moves in closer. 

“Were you hoping I’d come?”

You hate the melancholy tone your voice has taken, the way you sound so hopeful and wistful. It’s pathetic. Just remember who he is, his true nature, how he hides behind a facade of propriety, of manners and kindness, the perfect gentleman.

Except perfect gentlemen don’t have tongue piercings which sometimes catch the light of the lampposts when he speaks. 

And perfect ladies don’t stare and run their tongue over their teeth absentmindedly either. 

He shrugs and the jacket presses against you. “Wanted to win our little stand-off, of course, so yeah, I guess I did.”

“You won this one but this’ll be the last time.” You huff. “Mark my words, Ryomen.”

He looks down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as he scans your features. You see his jaw tense and you know he’s rolling his piercing like he rolls a pen between his fingers. When you raise a brow in question, he only lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. 

It’s irritating you that he’s being mature. You want him to poke and prod like he always does. You want to watch him crack his neck as a way to control his real thoughts and feelings, want to see that challenging smirk, the burning embers in his eyes as he sizes you up, like a snake does with its prey. 

You just want to see him in his true form. 

Well, if he won’t poke, then you should do it. Set nature back on its course, reset the balance of right and wrong, and ensure all is right in the world. So you stop. You literally stand stiff as a board, falling behind a metre before he realises you’re not beside him. 

A muscle in his jaw ticks, you see it flex under the streetlight. It highlights every sharp edge, chiselled features, and makes his threatening eyes even more alarming. 

“Give me your jacket.”

Sukuna scowls. He looks confused. 

“I want your jacket.”

“Get your own,” is all he says before he turns back around and continues walking, flashing you the Ryomen and 13 on his back. You don’t move. He notices and stops, letting out an exasperated groan, hands on his hip like he’s dealing with a child. 

“I swear to god, not even Yuji is this much of a pain in my ass”

You don’t know who this Yuji person is but you don’t care. You’ve made your stance clear. Sukuna being all nice and wise makes the hairs on back of your neck stand; it’s just plain wrong. You don’t want a friend out of him, you want an enemy. You need him to be your enemy, because anything else, anything more, would be disastrous. 

Sukuna must have seen something in your eyes, whether it’s just the steely determination or your inner thoughts, but whatever it is it makes him stalk over to you. His long legs take him to where you stand, just at the edge of a circle of light, and he’s stepping away from his own light and embracing your shadows. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and thick muscles. It’s easy to forget that he's an athlete when he’s always slouching and lazing around. 

Craning your neck, you watch him watch you. He’s tilting his head to the side, assessing the situation and it feels like it lasts for hours, but only a couple seconds pass before he takes off his jacket and throws it over your face. Pulling it down, you see he’s already walking ahead. 

It smells good. Like burnt wood and cherries. You’ve smelt this scent in passing, when he breezes past you to shake hands with a guest lecturer, or in the hallways when you pretend you don't know each other. But now it’s right under your nose, so strong and overwhelming you feel like you might start swaying on your feet. 

How ridiculous. 

You wear the jacket, zipping it all the way up. It’s still kinda warm from his body and you curse at your tits for aching at the feel of them rubbing against the material. With fast feet, you catch up to Sukuna, who's wearing a plain black shirt, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. 

His short sleeves reveal thick arms, veiny and tattooed. Having seen him leave Uzumaki, the tattoo parlour your friend works at, and been told directly via text that he has ‘many’ tattoos, you shouldn’t be surprised at the sight of the thick lines encircling his wrists and peaking through the collar of his shirt. 

And you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about what his tattoos look like under his shirt. 

“Take a picture.”

His drawl knocks you away from your silly thoughts. You scowl at him and distract yourself by untying your hair and tucking your own hands into the jacket’s pockets, fiddling with your hair tie. It felt necessary to have an extra boundary between you and him. The jacket's engulfing you; it's both too big and too long.

“I was just wondering how you managed to convince everyone you’re such a good guy when you’ve got tattoos like that.”

You stumble when his elbow nudges you suddenly. 

“You always so judgey? Think people with tattoos are all degenerates, is that it?”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him back. He doesn’t budge. “No, of course not. But I’m just saying, you have tattoos, pink hair and a tongue piercing, and yet when I complain about you to my friends, they all insist I’m the problem. It’s like you’ve got them fooled.”

He’s grinning now.  “You talk about me to your friends?”

You ignore that. Your words seemed harmless enough in your head but somehow he’s managed to twist them into something that works in his favour. You hate him. 

The dorm is in front of you now, and you both slow to a stop, just on the grass. You take off the jacket and hand it over to him with a mumbled ‘thanks’ and awkwardly shuffle your feet. It feels wrong to just leave it at that, so you look up at him and clear your throat. 

“Thanks for all your hard work with this class action, by the way. And I’m sorry for accusing you of not caring or whatever.” You, the ever eloquent president of the student body representatives, are stuttering like you’ve never spoken a day in your life. 

Sukuna looks amused.

“You’re welcome, or whatever.”

It’s still not enough. 

You need to hear him say one word. Just one word that’s been bugging you the entire day. He needs to say it so you know he’s forgiven you, so that there’s no bad blood, none more than usual, so that you can face him tomorrow and scowl at him again like you always do and not feel guilt. You need to know where you stand with Sukuna. 

“Thanks for walking me back, too. That was,” you bite your lip, “really…nice…of you.”

He’s trying not to laugh, you can see his eyes crinkle at the corners, even as he presses a hand to his mouth, hiding the grin that’s definitely there. You’ll let him have this victory, just this once.

Sensing your growing irritation, he exhales through his nose like he’s just had the greatest laugh of his life. “Yeah, you’re welcome for that too.” You gulp and he smiles, sharp teeth on display. “See you tomorrow, bright and early…prez.”

You exhale too. 

And then you’re nodding and turning away. 

You reach the reception doors and feel a sudden itch. Something that makes your hand pause and your head turn. 

He’s still standing there. 

Hands in his jacket pocket, and head tilted at you. 

You ignore the fluttering in your chest. Sukuna’s standing there because he has a penchant for watching girls in the dark, you remind yourself. It’s definitely not because he wants to make sure you get in safe. Everyone might think he's a gentleman but you know he isn't. You learn that lesson a long time ago. The hard way.

With a blush on your cheeks, you look away, paying no attention whatsoever to the little wave he gives you and you disappear inside the building. 

Sukuna is not a gentleman.

You repeat that to yourself on your way up to your floor and again when you receive a text from him saying, 

Sweet dreams, prez.

He just isn’t. 

[dreaming-medium]

No Contact

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Tags: ANGST with a happy ending, amnesia, memory loss, grief, pining, yearning, hurt/comfort

Summary: It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen. You weren't supposed to be in that car, but you were. When you lose your memories from the incident, Chan is ordered to stay away for your recovery's sake; but it takes a larger toll on him than anyone could have imagined. Until one day, he just can't take it anymore.

A/N: inspired by this post. Angst ahoy <3 I had too much fun writing this. Maybe I like writing emotions. Enjoy <3

—————————————————————

No contact. That’s what Chan was told was best for you. That’s what was going to help your healing process. 

No contact whatsoever. No texts, no calls, no little surprise visits. No fucking contact. None. 

He was told it would just hurt you if he talked to you— that he would just make it worse. That you would only become more confused and upset. It would be absolutely detrimental for him to see you.

Hell, it might even make you worse. 

It’s killing Chan slowly. Every single day feels like torture for him. The days get exponentially worse. He feels like a hollow shell of his former self, like the wind goes through him when he steps foot outside. It feels like his shoulders are permanently sagged forward. 

But the worst part is that you don’t even know it. You don’t know how he’s collapsing inwards like a dying star. 

It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen in years. A friend was driving you home that night; Chan had begged to be the one to pick you up, but no, you said it was fine, the friend was heading that way anyway. Why make the unnecessary trip?

You told him he needed sleep. Always putting his needs before your own. You always did. 

He should’ve put up more of a fuss. He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve already been outside the house in his car with the passenger seat warmer on by the time you left that stupid party. 

He should’ve gotten out of the car and opened the door for you and had a cold bottle of water waiting in the cup holder. He should’ve kissed you on the cheek and asked you all about your time. He should have been there.

But he wasn’t. 

A drunk driver slammed into the passenger side of your friend’s car at a speed that you shouldn’t have even survived.

Miracles do happen, though. But what a price to pay for a miracle. 

For as long as he lives, Chan will never forget the sheer panic and terror he felt when the call came in from your mother. You were already at the hospital undergoing emergency surgery.

He was the last to know. 

After all, he wasn’t your emergency contact. He’s only your boyfriend.

Was. Was your boyfriend. Was? Is that the right word? He isn’t. But he is. There was no breakup. 

Is that what he’s going through right now? A breakup? 

You’re not on a break. But what is this? What is this loss? This severance is so horrible. 

It’s fucked up. It’s a fucked up, amnesia induced breakup. 

Memory loss is a funny thing. Doctors scratch their heads and shrug their shoulders without any answers. The brain is a tricky thing. 

Chan did what he was allowed to in that hospital. He sat in that stark white room under those harsh LED lights and he waited until you were awake. He even waited much longer after that because only two visitors were permitted inside your room at a time— and he wasn’t about to force his way in and kick one of your parents out. 

He let your sister go in first. He even let your cousin go in before him. But when it was finally his turn… 

He never got to see you. 

“The last five years?” Chan asked with a tight throat. Did he even have any more tears left to cry? How is there any liquid left in his body?

“She says doesn’t remember anything, Chan.” Your mother’s voice was just as hollow as his. “She was asking about her freshman roommate.”

A doctor stood in between him and your mom. “It’s best if we don’t throw everything at her at once. Amnesia victims rarely never get their memories back, but we’ve found that it needs to happen organically. Seeing her will overwhelm her and that could stunt the healing process.”

Chan’s mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out at all. His heart may have stopped. 

Does that mean…?

No…

“He can’t see her at all?” Your mother asked quietly. “Not even to visit? He doesn’t have to mention he’s her boyfriend, he can just say that he’s a friend, or a coworker, or—“

The doctor cut her off. “No contact. Not until we’re a bit through recovery and she’s starting to get her memories back.”

Chan was suddenly in a chair. 

When did he sit down? The Doctor’s hands were on his shoulders and he was looking down at him with a sympathetic stare.  

“It’s not forever, son.”

Chan was only able to nod. His mouth was so dry, the back of his neck felt clammy. His head was spinning.

Books often speak of moments as ‘Earth-shattering’. Of moments so catastrophic that the planet stops spinning on its axis and time stands still.

He gets it now. 

The doctor spoke a few more words to your mother before walking away. She looked down at Chan sadly. 

Your mother sat on the chair next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. His world was falling apart around him. You were slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t even see you.

Hot tears poured down his face while he sat there with his head in his hands. Why does it feel like he’s losing you? Why is this the only way? Why are these the cards that are being dealt?

Why didn’t he pick you up from that fucking party?

“She loves you, Chan… she’ll come to her senses, I promise, I promise.”

It’s been two months, one week, two days and eight hours since he’s talked to you. That long since he’s known peace. Since he’s known any sort of comfort. 

You’re the last thing he thinks about before he closes his eyes at night and the first thing he thinks about in the morning. No matter how many times he wakes up and feels the cold bed next to him, it never dulls the ache in his chest.

It’s not a healthy mindset, he knows. And it’s not that you were codependent on one another, that’s not it at all. You were just… ripped away from him. 

Food has no taste. The sky isn’t as blue as it used to be. Clouds don’t make fun shapes like they did with you by his side. The stars are still in the sky, he thinks, he hasn’t had the guts to look at them. 

God, you love the stars so much. You always talked about how pretty they are— how absolutely breath-taking you think the universe is. Chan would simply listen, he would always listen. All he ever wanted to do was listen.

How is he supposed to look at anything the same way? How is any day supposed to be normal when half of his life is suddenly missing. What’s the point of making music if you’re not there to listen to it?

5:00 PM is the hardest hour to get through. You don’t open the door to his apartment when you get off work. You don’t tell him about the things that happened during your shift. 

He can’t leave little snacks out on the counter for you to eat when you get home like he used to. 

Mice would get to it before you did. 

His lonely apartment is slowly losing your smell. He could spray your perfume, sure, you keep a bottle at his place, but it’s not the same. You somehow made the scent sweeter by letting it linger on your skin. 

All of your old toiletries are still there where you left them. Your spare toothbrush has been bone dry and untouched since 9:28 AM that morning. Your shampoo bottles are still half full and waiting for you on your shower shelf.

It had rained a few days before your accident. You had started a puzzle on his dining room table that day– you told him it was the perfect rainy day activity. It was a picture of different comic book covers. It’s now collecting dust. Unmoved and unsolved. 

Just like him.

It was a battle and a half to throw away your leftovers from two nights before your car accident. He felt like he was throwing away your normal life, your tiny domestic traces. 

He didn’t want to cleanse you from his life, but you were washing away. Your ghost was eroding with time. 

Your spare car keys are still hanging on the key ring. Your rain coat is on the third hook draped right over your work bag. Even your phone charger is still plugged into the wall on your side of the bed.

Did you know you forgot to put your favorite gold earrings on that night? You left them on the nightstand. They’re still there, don’t worry. Right next to the glass of water you drank half of. 

Do you even remember them…? He got them for you for your first Christmas together. 

There are so many signs of a life interrupted integrated so deeply into his. 

You’re a clock whose hands stopped suddenly at 1:24 AM. 

This sort of haunting is unbearable. You’re not a phantom in his life, though. You’re something so unattainable that he had once but it was taken away with empty promises of return. 

It’s like you’re a shiny diamond hidden away beneath lasers and traps like in those stupid, cheesy spy movies you love so much. 

Do you know what he would give to watch one of those with you in his arms right now? 

Chan feels like he’s banging on the glass of a one sided window, screaming for you to remember him. Meanwhile you’re on the other side only staring into a mirror, trying to pick up the pieces from before. 

Your mom sends him updates on your condition all the time. He knows that you started working at the local library about three weeks ago. 

You had worked there in college before graduating and getting your last job. It was one of your favorite jobs you ever had. That library was so special to you. 

To him too. 

It’s the library where he first met you. 

The same library Chan finds himself in front of now. 

He shouldn’t go in. He can’t go in. He absolutely should not go inside. 

Bang Chan you should not and cannot go inside this library. Under no circumstances should you step foot inside this building where your other half is working. 

Absolutely not. 

The door emits a soft ding when he opens it. Electronic. Quiet. Peaceful. 

There’s a certain type of silence that sits in a library. It’s closer, thicker— warmer. It’s an expected silence. They’re supposed to be quiet. 

Chan can hear his sneakers take every step on the carpeted floor. There’s no one sitting behind the front desk; that’s where you usually were. 

His eyes look all around, but there’s no sign of you anywhere. A few people toddle around the shelves. 

There’s more soft beeping coming from the self checkout. That’s new. They didn’t have that when you worked here years ago. You probably hate it. 

On the day he met you, you were wearing a pair of dark green pants and a black long sleeve shirt. Your hair was clipped behind your head and pieces were falling over your face. 

Chan was only in the library to look for the bathroom. He was on his way to lunch with a friend, but he just had to stop somewhere. The library was the closest option. 

When he had heard the sound of books falling, he investigated and found you in the center of the carnage, the glasses on your nose sat crookedly and you rubbed your head. 

Your eyes met. He was a goner. 

How disgustingly poetic that he finds himself here now. Where he really shouldn’t be. He was quite literally prescribed a restraining order against you. 

Chan meanders around with his hands in his pockets, the silence getting louder and louder the further he gets inside.

Maybe you’re not working today? 

No one is anywhere to be seen. He’s checking down all the aisles but he doesn’t see you anywhere. 

Maybe it’s for the best that you’re not here. He’s not supposed to see you anyway. He’s breaking the doctor’s rules by doing this anyway. 

He needs to leave. He needs to get out of here. 

His feet stop in front of the very aisle where he saw you for the first time. 

Empty. 

You-less. 

If he thinks hard enough, Chan can picture you in front of him, laughing quietly with the most adorable, embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 

What a moment. 

Is it possible to spend eternity in that moment? Obviously internal clocks can be rewound, paused, flipped every which way; can he go back to that day? Can he go back to the day where every single poem suddenly made sense?

He would take any day, really, any day that had you in it. Birthdays, holidays, late night dates, Hell, he’d even take a day where he only saw you when you dropped off a drink for him in his studio. 

Anything, he would take anything just to see your smile bloom on your face while he watches.

“Can I help you find something?”

His breath catches in his throat, it feels like he’s physically punched in the chest. That voice. That beautiful, melodic voice. He hasn’t heard it in person in months, only in videos he had on his phone. 

Slowly, Chan turns to face the source of his favorite pitch. 

His throat immediately tightens. 

There you are. You. Beautiful you. 

Standing right there. Looking at him like a complete fucking stranger. 

“I…” his voice is hoarse. Chan can feel the tears in his eyes begin to form. He didn’t think this through, did he?

You’re staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything. You’re waiting, come on, Chan. Speak up. Say something. 

Looking up at the shelf, you look back down at him with a smile. “A history guy, hm?”

No.

“Yeah.”

You giggle. “I always had a thing for History.”

He knows. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm.” You respond with a grin. 

Specifically Ancient Rome. He knows. 

You continue. “Specifically Ancient Rome.”

Chan nods and clears his throat. His palms feel so sweaty. His chest is almost panting. Every single cell in his body just wants to lunge forward and wrap you in a hug. 

He wants to bury his face in your neck and sob while you hold him. He wants to tell you that he missed you so much. He wants to tell you how your pillow is losing the scent of your shampoo. He wants to tell you that he’s been DVR-ing your favorite show so that you can watch it later. He wants to tell you about his day. He wants to kiss you until you’re breathless. He wants you to hear the new song he’s been working on.

But—

“If you need anything, let me know.”

You start to walk away.

Chan feels his heart physically break. It’s happening again. He’s on the other side of that one way mirror. It’s happening again! No, no please. 

His eyes widen, the words get caught in his throat. Fuck, Y/N, please!

“W-Wait!” he says quickly. 

You turn around with a curious look. 

“The Odyssey,” he blurts. “Where uh… where can I find it?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, I love The Odyssey.”

He knows. You collect different translations of it. 

“I collect different translations of that book, here I’ll show you where it is.”

With a little hop in your step you lead him towards all the classics. 

He watches you like you’re an oasis in the desert— maybe it’s because you are. You’re what he’s been crawling towards for two months. 

You lead him all the way to the shelf where the Odyssey lives. Your nimble fingers reach forward and grab one of the copies. 

Green nail polish. You still paint your nails green. You picked that habit up a year after he met you. 

The memories have to be there, Y/N, they have to be. Chan bought you that first bottle of green nail polish as a joke on Saint Patrick’s Day. 

Y/N, please. 

“This translation is my favorite,” you whisper and hand him the book. 

Chan smiles sadly and takes the book from you, unable to meet your eyes. He knows if he gazes into those gorgeous eyes that he’ll lose it. He’ll fall to his knees and cry. 

“Thank you,” he whispers back. 

You stand there for a moment, he can feel your eyes on his face. He always has been able to tell when you were looking at him, it’s a little, secret superpower. 

From foot to foot, your weight shifts. 

You only do that when you’re confused. Why are you confused? Y/N, are you confused?

“I’m sorry…” you start, sounding so unsure. “You remind me of someone…”

It feels like a defibrillator was hooked up to his chest. Chan’s eyes widen and he finally looks up at you. 

You’re looking at him so carefully. He can see the gears turning in your head. Your tongue pokes out of your lips and wets them. 

Y/N, please. 

“I just… I can’t figure out who. Do I… do I know you? I was—” You stop yourself. 

Fuck. Fuck! What was he supposed to say? Fuck! 

Chan wants to scream. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and cry that he’s your soulmate, that he’s the person that knows you better than anyone else in this world. 

Yes, you do, you do know him. And he knows you. He knows how you take your coffee, what movies make you cry, what color jell-o is your favorite. 

He knows that you never wear matching socks and you always lift your feet when driving over railroad tracks. 

He knows that when you were 6 you ran into the corner of a cabinet and that’s how you got that scar next to your eyebrow. 

Chan knows that your entire life you wanted to be an author but you’re so scared of failure that you decided not to chase after it. 

He knows everything. 

“I just have one of those faces, I guess.” It comes out of his mouth so strained. 

You stare back at him so carefully. Do you see right through him?

“Maybe,” you say slowly. You don’t believe him. He knows that tone. You absolutely do not believe a word he’s saying. “Are you sure?”

Chan swallows, he grips the book in his hand tighter. The lump in his throat almost doesn’t go down, more tears prick at his eyes. 

“I would never forget a face like yours,” he chokes out. 

Your eyes widen and you blush, looking to the side with a smile. You always were a sucker for cheesy compliments. 

After thinking for a second, you reach into your pocket and take out a little slip of paper. 

��Here,” you say after scribbling something down. Holding it out, Chan sees it’s your phone number. He has it memorized. “If you ever need more books to read… or find… call me.”

Chan takes the paper with a racing heart. He gives you a smile, his dimples showing. “I think I will,” he whispers to you. 

Another few moments pass of you just staring at him before you nod and giggle nervously. “Well, I gotta get back to work, so..”

Chan nods and moves to the side. You walk past him. 

Your perfume curls around him like a blanket and he craves that sweet serenity he finds when he holds you close and breathes you in. 

Three steps after you pass him, you turn around. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”.

“Chan,” he answers softly. 

“Chan,” you repeat. It goes right through him. 

Your voice. Your sweet, beautiful, melodic voice. Finally, he heard you say his name again.

“I’m Y/N,” you whisper to him with a friendly smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Chan has to physically force the word ‘meet’ out of his mouth. 

“You too, Chan.”

And with that, you were gone, retreating back into your fortress of papyrus. 

—————————————————————

A bad idea was going into the library that day. 

An even worse idea was texting you the day after to ask how your day is going. 

And then an absolutely fucking idiotic move was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him. 

And the worst part? You said yes. 

So, now here Chan was, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom getting ready for what you thought was a first date, but to him was just a dinner date. 

How is he supposed to do this? He’s not, that’s how. 

Chan fiddles with his bracelet right before his phone rings. 

His heart drops when he sees the caller ID, your mother. 

“Ah, fuck…” he whispers before grabbing his phone. Of course you were going to tell your mom, you tell your mom everything. 

“Hello?” he asks warily into the phone. 

“Hi, Chan,” she says slowly, she sounds nervous, why does she sound nervous. 

“How are you? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Y/N…” Her voice lowers. Chan’s heart drops. “Before you panic, she’s okay! It’s um.. she’s getting ready right now… for a date…”

Chan isn’t moving. Yes, he knows you are. He knows it. But words won’t form in his mouth. 

“Channie.. I’m starting to wonder if that doctor isn’t right.. I can’t stand the thought of her finding someone else when you’re waiting for her… I tried to talk her out of it but she just seems so floaty and happy. God, I feel sick to my stomach.”

His jaw clenches. Now or never. 

“It’s with me,” he blurts. 

Your mom goes silent. Then a huge sigh comes out of her mouth. 

“I wish I could say I’m angry,” a little laugh follows it. “I think I’m only angry that you didn’t say something.”

He tells her everything, down to the way he pretended not to know you. 

“Well, you’re going to have to tell her eventually.” Your mom sounds unsure, herself. 

“Or maybe she’ll remember me.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

Chan sits down on the edge of his bed. His eyes are staring at the wall, unfocused. 

She’s right. What if you don’t? 

“Then, I’ll just … do it all again.”

Silence greets him on the other side of the line. Another tiny laugh comes from your mom. “I always knew you two were perfect together. Just like two magnets, you always come towards one another.”

—————————————————————

“I’ve never eaten here before,” you say with a chipper smile on your face from across the table. 

Yes, you have. 

“Really?” Chan asks, taking a sip of his water. 

“I pass it all the time and always wondered how the food was.”

He looks back down at the old menu. 

This restaurant was more than special to him. It’s where he took you on your first date. It’s an old fashioned burger joint with the greasiest, most delicious French fries in town. 

The first time you guys came here, you talked and talked until the place closed. And even after that, you drove around and talked until it was late. 

“I’ve been here a few times, it’s really good. The milkshakes are some of the best I’ve ever had.” Chan’s sweaty hands fiddle with the menu. 

He’s more nervous now than on the first date. 

“What’s the best one?” you ask with a smile. 

A small laugh comes out of his nose. “The peanut butter one.”

It was your favorite. 

“Yeah but then you can’t have any,” you say so nonchalantly, looking down at the menu. 

His eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“‘Cause of your allergy.”

He stops. 

You stop. 

He has a peanut allergy. Chan has a peanut allergy. 

His lips purse like he’s going to say something but you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I… I don’t know why I thought that.” Your hands grip the menu a little tighter. “Maybe I’m thinking of someone else?”

Chan shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I… I do have a peanut allergy. Maybe I said something before?”

You stare at him for a long second before looking back down at the menu once more. “Yeah… um. Maybe.”

He definitely did not say something. 

Dinner continues on. Chan listens to you talk and pretends he’s never heard your stories before and he tells you ones he knows he’s said before. 

The entire time, you were beaming at him, just like you used to before the accident. Your face never loses its constant happy glow. He’s not sure that the muscles in your face know how to frown.  

You’re the last two people in the restaurant. The staff doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe they recognize you both. Maybe. 

A lull dips into your conversation. Both of you know you should leave. Neither wants to. Especially the broken man sitting across from you. 

Chan takes the last sip of his drink. The bill has been paid for about an hour at this point. You’re looking down at your lap with a pink flush on your cheeks. 

You bite your lip and look up at Chan carefully. 

“Are you… are you sure I don’t know you, Chan?”

He stares at you. Did you know that you always bite your lip like that when you’re confused? 

“I just… I really feel like I know you. There’s just…” you pause, trying to find your words. He knows you want to tell him about the accident. He knows you want to say it but you don’t want to weird him out. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to tell you? 

“Something happened to me a little while ago, my brain’s been… fuzzy since then,” you explain shyly. “I know you said you don’t know me but I just… I can’t help feel like that’s not true.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, his knee bounces anxiously underneath the table. His head turns to the side in his typical nervous tick. 

Your mother’s words echo in his mind, his tongue suddenly feels like it’s swelling to the size of his mouth— making him unable to speak. Should he tell you? Is it now or never?

“I don’t mean to make it weird, Chan.”

He licks his lips and opens his mouth. 

Your phone rings. 

A sigh of relief comes from deep within Chan’s chest. 

Reluctantly, you pick up the phone and hold it to your ear. “Hello? …. No, I didn’t know…. Yeah, of course…. Sure… Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Just as quickly as you answered the phone, you hang up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Someone called out of work for tomorrow, they need me to come in.”

“Do you need to get going?” Chan asks, looking down at the time. It’s well past 10 o’clock. 

A sad smile crosses your face. “I mean… probably.” The time on your watch flashes back at you. He can tell you don’t want to go home yet. 

“Come on, Y/N, I’ll walk you home.”

Chan’s already standing up from the table, picking his jacket up off the back of his chair. You watch his movements and slowly get up, your movements screaming reluctance. 

—————————————————————

It’s three dates later when the two of you are walking down the street towards your house. It’s only a few blocks from here, but you both decide to take a tiny detour through the local park. 

“I have to say I’m a little excited to meet your friends,” you giggle. “I hope that’s not weird.”

You already have. 

“It’s not weird at all. I’m sure they’d like you.” Chan nudges your arm with his elbow, his hands staying in his pocket. 

“Changbin sounds like a blast.”

He was your favorite before.

“The two of you…” Chan thinks over his words carefully. “The two of you would definitely cause some mischief.”

And you have. 

A tiny lull of comfortable silence falls over the conversation. 

Both of you meander towards the swings. A cold wind blows through the air but neither of you react to it. 

With a tiny giggle, you sit down on one of the swings and hold onto the chains on the side. 

You are just so… you. You’re just your authentic self. Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed a bit. It’s so charming.

“I can’t remember the last time I went on the swings.” You start to move your body back and forth, not too much but enough to get the tiny thrill the toy brings. 

Chan walks up and stands next to you, his hand coming out and grabbing at the chain of the swing next to yours. 

The brightest smile stretches over your face. 

God, it really doesn’t take a lot to make you smile, does it? He guesses that means it doesn’t take a lot for him either since he smiles when you do.

He can’t help it.

He watches you move back and forth, the cold breeze kicking up a bit more and blowing dead leaves across the sidewalk. 

“What’s wrong, Chan? Allergic to swings?” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “No, I just far more enjoy watching you have fun.”

Your cheeks flush. If he didn’t know you, maybe he would’ve chocked it up to the cold. But he knows the difference between your blush and the elements now. 

“You’re a smooth talker, Bang Chan.”

“It comes easy with you, Y/N L/N.”

Another laugh from you. 

“Shameless flirt.”

He puts his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch! I just speak the truth, that’s all. Not my fault I like seeing you blush.”

Every word that comes out of his mouth feels so natural. If he really thinks about it, he’s in a weirdly unique situation. Not many couples get to start over, to feel those butterflies again. But here he is, his palms starting to get sweaty as he imagines kissing you. 

Would you call it a first kiss? Maybe. 

It has been four dates. It wouldn’t be.. inappropriate to kiss you, would it? The two of you kissed on your third date a few years ago. 

He wants to kiss you so bad. 

Should he? Shouldn’t he? God, why is this so hard?

Chan reaches out and grabs the chain of your swing, pulling it to a very gentle stop. 

“Uh oh, fun police,” you tease and look up at him with a grin. 

Looking down at you, Chan allows his eyes to look over every detail of your face that he already had memorized. You haven’t changed at all except the new scar on the side of your forehead from the accident. 

It’s the same eyes, same nose, same chin that he fell in love with so long ago. 

The same asymmetrical eyes that you’re so self conscious of but he loves. Your hair is wind blown and splayed every which way. It adds a childish charm to your features. 

Very carefully, Chan moves his free hand down to cup your cheek. His warm palm soothes your ice cold face. He hears your breath catch in your throat at his touch. 

His thumb swipes over your cheek, fingertips run down the soft lines of your jawline. Eventually his thumb ends up under your chin which he tilts up. 

Your eyes sparkle. They somehow capture the light of the lamps around the playground. But they’ve always done that. 

You’re always so enchanting.

Is this a good idea? 

Is kissing you the best option? 

But does he even have the strength to stop himself now?

Almost three months without feeling your lips on his has been torture, and here he is, with you in his hands and there’s still this nagging feeling that he should stop. 

One look into your eyes quells that anxiety. 

Your eyes keep flickering down to his own lips, the shaky breath you let out is hot against his fingers. Everything feels warmer compared to the air outside. 

He can’t take it anymore. 

Chan leans down and presses his lips to yours. They’re warm and slightly chapped.

But, my god, he’s never felt anything this heavenly before. It’s like his entire body unwinds. Like a fire was lit inside his stomach. 

He moves his hand to the back of your head and keeps your lips pressed against his. Your head tilts to the side slightly. It’s just like he remembers. 

It’s just the first kiss, he can’t let himself get carried away. He can’t. 

He can’t let his fingers wind through your hair. He can’t melt into your touch on his cheek. He can’t let himself drown in your lips. 

But he is. 

He’s letting you consume his very soul in one kiss. 

How can something feel so healing yet hurt so badly at the same time? It’s like you’re ripping open a wound and bandaging it at the same time. 

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring his lips away from yours. Your hand slides down to caress his jawline with those soft, manicured fingers. 

Your lips open and close over his like mirror images. The feeling shoots straight down into Chan’s gut. It’s like the first time for him all over again. 

Those butterflies are going insane in his stomach. Your scent kicks up in the wind and he can’t help but take a large breath through his nose. 

God, he can’t stop himself. It feels too good. 

His hand moves from the back of your hair to cup your cheek and bring you closer. 

He immediately stops. 

Why is your face wet?

Chan pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with concern written all over his expression. 

You’re crying. Why … why are you crying?

Your eyes open and you look at him confused. 

“Chan?” you whisper. You’re confused too. What?

“Why are you crying, Y/N?” he asks with a thick voice.

Your eyes widen and your own hand comes up to swipe at your cheeks. Sure enough, you’re met with tears. 

“I… I don’t know,” you say so quietly. “I-I’m not sure.”

Chan starts backing away, your eyes snap to focus on his. Your hand shoots up to grab at his to keep him there. You’re still so confused. 

Emotions are flying through your eyes. It almost looks like someone is clicking a light switch on and off in the back of your mind. A lightbulb is flickering in your soul like a dying neon sign in an old shop window. 

Every muscle in your face is twitching.

What’s happening?

“Channie—“ your own voice cuts off by a sob. 

Chan’s heart jumpstarts. You haven’t called him that… not in two months… that’s what you and your mother called him before the accident. 

Are you…? Are you remembering? What’s happening?

Please. 

Slowly, your hand falls from his. 

Chan stays there, unmoving like a statue. What’s happening inside your mind right now? It looks like you’re reaching and reaching for something that you can’t quite put your finger on. 

He's watching you struggle. It’s like when you can’t remember a word. It’s right there. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

You gulp, your eyes leave his and you look down at your lap. The dirt crunches under your feet as you shuffle your shoes around.

Chan swipes his thumb over your cheek, brushing away the tears. He’s biting back his own. 

“It’s okay—“ “I’m sorry—“ are both said at the exact same time. 

He knew it was coming. He knows you. But you don’t know him. Not anymore. 

But you do.

“It wasn’t the kiss. I—“ 

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You know him. 

“Chan, I really loved the kiss.”

Chan. Not Channie. 

He brushes his thumb over your lips. “It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “You don’t have to explain.”

His other hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes slide shut at the sensation. 

Your bottom lip quivers and you pull it into your mouth and bite it. With a tight swallow, your throat bobs. 

“It happens sometimes,” you whisper. “It’s from the accident I had.”

Chan continues to soothingly rub your skin with his thumb. Slowly, he kneels down to be in front of you rather than leaning over. 

The dirt is cold on his knee. It seeps through the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he whispers back to you. 

You shake your head gently, your hands folding in your lap. “No, no. I… I want to tell you. I need to tell you. It’s been happening more and more whenever I’m around you. It’s like every touch, every word you say bounces around my brain and makes me feel the worst case of deja vu.

“Every time I’m with you I feel like I’m trying to recall a dream I had last night but I just can’t remember what it was.”

You’re rambling. You only ramble when you’re overwhelmed and scared. 

“Chan, every time I’m with you it feels like some part of me is screaming to be let out.”

Your eyes open and you stare right through him. Chan feels his heart squeeze and almost stop completely. Despite your best efforts, the tears keep coming. 

“I was in a car accident a few months ago. I had such a severe concussion that I lost the last five years of my memory.” 

How is your voice so even?

Chan’s jaw clenches. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He knows. Yes, Y/N. He knows. Fuck, does he know! If anyone fucking knows, it’s him. 

“I—“ he starts but you cut him off. 

“Please,” you choke out and take a deep breath. “And since then I’ve been getting bits and pieces of my memory back. Sometimes they’re in large chunks, other times they just … come back.

“When I try to think about my life before the accident. There’s this… person there. Someone important. Someone so, so important that it physically hurts me to think about how I don’t know who it is. They’re a constant. And I love that they’re a constant.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at your jacket right over your chest. 

More tears come out of your eyes. The whites get more pink the more they flow. 

“But I know them. I do! I know them like I know the back of my hand. I-I know they love music. I know they take milk and sugar in their morning coffee. I know they don’t get enough sleep at night.”

Louder and louder your voice gets as you grow sadder and sadder. The sobs between thoughts wrack your chest. 

Him. You’re talking about him. 

Chan’s hands hold your face gently. His thumbs can’t keep up with how much you’re crying. 

Nothing has ever hurt this bad. 

You know him. You just don’t know it’s him. 

Nevertheless, you continue. “I remember that they have the most obnoxious phone alarm in the morning. I remember the passcode to their phone is 032518. I know that they have this one black sweatshirt that I love to steal even though it’s their favorite.”

Chan’s own eyes begin watering, he can’t stop it. You know him. You know him. You’ve remembered him this whole time and you didn’t even know it. 

You reach up and grab one of his hands and place it on your heart. Underneath your jacket, he can feel your heartbeat thudding violently against your chest. 

That same heartbeat he’s been dying to listen to while you play with his hair and tell him about your day. The heartbeat he would give anything to hear as he falls asleep. His throat gets tighter and tighter. 

“I’ve been surrounded by bits and pieces of a ghost and no one wants to help me. No one will tell me anything, and I’m so confused, Chan. I can tell that there’s something that everyone is avoiding telling me.”

A gust of wind picks up through the playground. It nips at his cheeks. It’s now he realizes how many tears are falling. 

A sob tears from his throat. 

You grip his hand tighter. 

“Tell me It’s you, Chan.” You’re begging. You’re actually begging while keeping his hand pressed against your heartbeat. 

“Tell me that you’re the person that I see in my dreams. Tell me you’re the one that loves when I draw hearts on the bathroom mirror after I shower. Please tell me that you’re the one that loves the smell of lemon cookies but can’t stand the taste.”

Oh, god, Y/N.

“Tell me that you’re the one that wanted to pick me up from the party that night but I said no.”

He breaks. 

He breaks right down in front of you. Every single ounce of self control leaves his body and he grabs you out of the swing, yanking you towards his body and holding you against his chest. The emotions that were being kept at bay come out like a raging storm. 

He falls backwards into the dirt, you come crashing into him. Your arms wrap around him at the same time he wraps around you. 

Chan buries his face in your neck, one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly around your waist. 

Wails leave his mouth as he holds you to him. They’re deep and come from the very depths of his soul. The wound that’s been open for months is bleeding.  

Every lonely night. Every dinner where he cooked for two instead of one by accident. Every long day he came back to an empty apartment. It’s all coming out. 

You’re crying just as hard as he is, both of your hands gripping the back of his hoodie like a lifeline. 

Your body in his arms is like a piece of a puzzle. Like he’s the dusty one sitting on his dining room table and you finally came in and finished it. 

Weeks and weeks of grief come crashing down on him. He can’t lie anymore. Not to you. Never to you. 

“It is me,” he cries into your neck, his hand running over the back of your head, feeling your hair slip through his fingers. It’s just like he remembers. “It’s all me, Y/N, It’s me.”

Your cries get louder, your body starts shaking in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he cries harder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I missed my girl. Oh my god, I’ve missed you.”

Chan can’t pull you close enough, he can’t get you close enough to his body. You shift around and press yourself into him. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick you up that night. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry you got hurt.” 

Every ounce of grief is surfacing and clawing its way out of his throat. 

“I’m sorry I had to lie to you these last two weeks. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so broken without you. I broke the doctor’s orders. I needed to see you, Y/N.”

Despite how hard he has you gripped against him, you manage to pull away slightly. You sit up in his lap and look down at his red, tear soaked face. His eyes are puffy and his chest is sputtering with sobs. 

Both of your hands cup his cheeks and swipe away the tears the same way he did for you only a small bit ago. There’s a sad smile on your face. 

“Please don’t apologize, Channie, it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Channie. You called him Channie.

He cries harder and buries his face into your chest. Your arms immediately come around him and keep him there, fingers threading into his hair. 

You’re still crying. Both of you are. 

“I know you were just doing what you were told to,” you whisper into his hair. He can hear your voice reverberate in your chest. 

All he can do is cry. 

Months of build up led to this moment. Endless days of going through the motions just for the next to be as dull and tedious led to him falling into you in the middle of a playground at night. 

The only thing you do after that is hold him. You press kisses to the top of his head and whisper that you forgive him over and over. 

Each one adds a stitch to the wound, shutting it.

You’re finally in his arms. You’re finally back where you belong. 

“I missed you,” he says again, his cries dying down. He doesn't know what else to say. There's so much he wants to tell you, but everything dies on the tip of his tongue.

“I missed you too, Channie. My heart missed you so much.”

He sniffles and looks up at you. You pull your sweatshirt sleeve up and wipe away his stray tears gently. 

“Every day it just felt like something was missing. It was you. You were missing.”

Chan can’t find any words to say. He just stares at you. 

"I don't care how long it takes to remember, or even if I never do. I need you by my side for it, Chan."

His eyes sparkle at you for a moment but he leans up and captures your lips with his once more. It feels even better than the previous one.

The two of you relish in the contact, holding each other close and clinging to the closeness of it all.

It's taking everything within Chan not to start crying again. He's worried than any moment now, he'll wake up and this will all be some cruel dream.

But when you pull away from his lips, and he opens his eyes-- you're still there. You're still in his arms and smiling at him like you always did.

The burn is soothed.

“If you think about it,” you start with a tiny smile. “We��re lucky— in a way.”

His entire face screws up, even more confused. “Lucky?”

“How many people get to say they fell in love with the same person twice?”

Chan blinks twice before it feels like his entire body thaws. 

You and your glass half full attitude. He’ll never fucking get enough of it. 

His arms wrap around you again, bringing you down into his chest. You let out a breathy giggle 

“You’re never leaving my sight,” he breathes out. “Never again, baby, never.”

“I don’t ever want to, Channie. I never will.”

[yndrgrl]

bullies! kiribaku x reader headcannons <3

headcannons for your azz. fem! reader. soft! yandere, hardcore! fuckers. college! au.

warnings: nsfw, threesome!!, degrading, praise, blackmail, sending pics, possessive, lowkey cnc???

a/n: so i originally had this as a long one shot, but i ended up straying too far away from the actual "bully" trope, so this is just to reel it back & get my thoughts all in one place :) lemme know if i should make this a longer fic !

-

✩ bullies! kiribaku were notorious around campus; if you came across them, know not to look into their eyes, keep your head down, & do whatever they say. those are the rules when you see the duo wandering around.

★ they were shocked when, while bullying one of the pricks that decided to spread rumors about them, you appeared out of nowhere. you shoved bakugo off of the shaking boy & put your body between them & their victim. "what the hell do you think you're doing!?" you shouted at them. you put on your bravest face & puffed out your chest. they've seen you around before, always silently admiring from afar until now.

✩ their first thought was, "how stupid is this chick?" they were -at least- twice your size & could scoop you up with one hand. then they took you in; you were ethereal, like a guardian angel sent from the pearly heaven above. kirishima looked at bakugo, & bakugo glanced at him. kirishima gave him a fang-filled grin. they were nothing more than demons who were feigning for a chance to taint your sweet charm.

★ bakugo, expressionless, responded, "what does it look like? i'm teaching this little asshole a lesson-" you cut him off with your hands clenched in a white-tight fist, "you're pathetic! picking on someone so much smaller than you, have some fuckin' self-respect." god, you were irresistible, they thought.

✩ kirishima, who is nothing but an instigator, snickered & whispered in the blonde's ear, "i think she's the one we have to teach a lesson to, don't you think?"

★ kirishima turned towards you, his grin would've been unnerving given any other circumstance. his sharp teeth were on full display as he teased, "well aren't you a good samaritan? it makes me wonder how far you'll go to stop us."

✩ "i'll do anything! you people make me sick," you shouted at them, & that's when the realization sunk in. shit... you've made a mistake.

★ the guy you were so-desperately trying to defend was just a coward who ran away without looking back. now you were in the hot seat, & your heartbeat was thumping in your ears. it felt like there was a drum in your head. adrenaline was flowing through your veins. you swallowed the lump in your throat. they were just staring at you with their sharp ruby eyes, piercing straight through your facade. "so what now? gonna beat up a girl 'cuz you have nothing better to do?"

✩ everything after that was a blur. you somehow ended up in their shared dorm, your throat fucked by kirishima & your pussy filled with bakugo. tears streamed down your face as you felt a whiplash of emotions all at once. they were such assholes, but, god, you felt so good. while kirishima sang you praises, bakugo gripped you so tightly, spanking your red-flushed ass. "you like that, huh? dumb slut," bakugo growled. he kept thrusting in & out of your dripping hole harshly. you hummed in disagreement, but it only made kirishima fuck your throat more.

★ "aww, bakubro, be nice to her. she's being so good f' us," purred kirishima, it seemed like he was on your side, but the tight grasp he had on your hair told you otherwise.

✩ by hour two, your pussy was still stuffed, this time with kirishima. a mixture of your climax & both mens' cum seeped out of your overstimulated hole. you sat in kirishima's lap, bouncing yourself on his thick cock reverse-cowgirl style. bakugo flooded your mouth with his cum, & he demanded, "don't fuckin' swallow, got it?"

★ he pulled out of your mouth, & you listened. your obedience didn't go unnoticed because, while bakugo went to go fish his phone out of his pants that were on the hardwood floor, kirishima groaned, "so perfect, you know that, don't you? just such a good girl, takin' us so well. you're too pretty for your own good, we're just gonna keep you to ourselves~ you'll be ours, won't you, sweetheart?" you were lost in foggy pleasure, so you nodded your droopy head.

✩ bakugo came back & held your chin. his touch was gentle for the first time. he guided your face to look up at him with your pretty, teary eyes. his phone camera was pointed at you. "open up, angel," he said, stroking your lip with his thumb. he was so soft spoken that it shocked you & kirishima, you felt obligated to listen. he was so sweet all of a sudden. you opened your mouth, his hot, white load dripping onto his wrist. he snapped a picture then told you to swallow & clean him off.

★ "you got him all pussy-whipped, (y/n). can't really blame him though. you're too good~" that night, an arrangement was made. bakugo's gentleness must've run out because, when you went back to your dorm, you received an image from an unknown number, the caption read, "if you know what's good for you, you'll listen to us."

✩ bullies! kiribaku who are so intimidating that they somehow got you, the campus' fire cracker, to not only turn a blind eye to their antics but also do their bidding. what dirt did they have on you, everyone wondered.

★ whatever you did, their other victims were thankful because bullies! kiribaku have left them alone. instead, they now target any man who thinks they can hit on you. a guy at the club is sauntering towards you? kirishima grabs you by the back of the neck, turning your face towards him & captures your pouty lips in a steamy kiss. a man on instagram starts talking dirty to you through dms? all you have to do is tell bakugo, & he sends them a mirror selfie of him sitting on his bed while you're on your knees in front of him.

✩ at some point, everyone knew that you belonged to bullies! kiribaku, but you were just as bad as them. oh? someone's trying to seduce your bullies? not on your watch. they found it so fuckin' sexy the way you'd immediately rush to their side. if a woman tries to feel bakugo's bulging muscles while he's at the gym, you'll be there, marking his neck & glaring at her. kirishima's fan girls are getting too close? you'll sit on his lap & whisper how much you wanna beat them up.

★ "you're not gonna tell anyone about this, right?" kirishima purred, as if everyone was unaware of your guys' relationship. it added to the fun-- sneaking around & pretending like you have no other choice. you were sucking his cock while your skirt was flipped up, your thong down by your ankles. your legs were spread, & bakugo buried his face in your juicy ass. bakugo responded between pants, "'course not, don't be stupid. we got those cute lil pictures of her, she's not gonna do shit."

✩ bullies! kiribaku who will throw you into the nearest janitor's closet & fuck you so hard. their fingers in your mouth to act as a makeshift gag.

★ bullies! kiribaku who are never hesitant to treat you to whatever you want, but they're always so awkward about it. after all, they're not used to having such a graceful angel by their side.

✩ in the end, bullies! kiribaku corrupted you, not that you cared. you loved their nasty teasing, the manhandling, & the secret touching moments shared between all of you.

[astonmartinii]

into the arms of another part two | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

part two to this !! part three

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 661,230 others

yourusername: winner winner chicken dinner !! congrats maxy i’m so proud of you always

view all comments

user1: i know charles’ head is hot right now

user2: i hope netflix are taking notes cause this tea is steaming hot

maxverstappen1: thank you baby, helps when i have the prettiest cheerleader in the world

yourusername: i am the sexiest sargent in all of the orange army

maxverstappen1: too right you are

user3: i miss when y/n was the head of the tifosi the red monochromatic fits ate so hard

user4: i need charles to pull his head out of his ass and apologise so we can reclaim her before monza

user5: do not even bring up the fact we may not have custody of her for monza

danielricciardo: leave some for the rest of us maxy

yourusername: no actually i think it’s illegal for max not to win sorry

danielricciardo: will that change if charlie apologises?

yourusername: considering that hasn’t happened and doesn’t look to be happening any time soon - no.

user6: CHARLES PLEASE DO SOMETHING

user7: he doesn’t have to do anything, she’s just bitter cause she’s always been the bridesmaid and never the bride. we ALL know she’s always loved charles and she can’t handle that she’s not the centre of his attention it’s kinda pathetic

maxverstappen1: what made you think you know any of us enough to comment something like this? what told you that you even had a right to talk about y/n like that? she’s everything you could ever wish to be and more and she will never ever deserve the things you people are saying about her. charles would be lucky to have y/n in his life platonically or romantically but it’s his loss

user8: boyf of the year right here

user9: charles take note ^^^ this is how you’re meant to defend your best friend

landonorris: i am once again asking for photo credits i’m not gonna be your personal photographer for free

maxverstappen1: i literally paid for your dinner

yourusername: you’re literally a millionaire

landonorris: i don’t care a man still likes to be wined and dined

yourusername: just to make it clear we are not looking for a third

user10: i promise i can change your mind give me a chance

f1tea

liked by user11, user12 and 2,349 others

f1tea: charles leclerc caught liking this tweet about the situation between him and y/n. seems like he won’t back down on this. what do you think?

view all comments

user13: i need this mans head on a spike i’m so serious

user14: i want to play pinball with the single marble in his head

user15: i think ferrari have genuinely caused real head rot in him cause no way he thinks this is a serve

user16: let's be real charles' biggest rivals are ferrari and himself

user17: not this man at his BIG AGE is liking shady tweets about his best friend

user18: i think it's safe to say they're not best friends any more

user19: also "biggest rival" my ass max and charles are fucking friends now so this whole narrative is complete horse shit

user20: i'm so bored of charles playing the victim bro YOU ARE THE INSTIGATOR YOU ARE THE PROBLEM

user21: the way charles is liking shit like this but max is writing whole ass essays in the comments defending her

user22: and that''s why i'll always back that she ended up with the right man

user23: max is so far in the lead in the championship i need him to take charles out for the narrative

user24: are we in high school? like seriously this is so fucking petty i cannot wait for media day this weekend

user25: he's either gonna be the funniest man in the world or he's gonna bite someones fucking head off

user26: and i'll back it either way

user27: i know y/n is about to have her revenge dress moment in the paddock someone get kym illman ready STAT.

f1wagsupdates

liked by lilymunhe, carmenmundt and 4,530 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: REVENGE DRESS MOMENT !!! y/n y/ln enters the paddock in monza in this stunning black dress, showing the world what a catch she is, oh and that is max holding the umbrella for her, what a gentleman.

view all comments

user28: mother came to slay i cannot even

user29: this right after max came for charles in the press conference is PERFECTION + NO RED IN MONZA !!

user30: i see lily and carmen in the likes in knew they'd be on the right side

user31: girl i don't think anyone is on charles' side

user32: yall see the stink eye from the red bull garage when charles walked past they have y/n's back LOL

user33: the red bull garage been ride or dies for max so it defo makes sense that they would extend that to y/n

user34: christian was defo waiting for a question about it in the press conference

user35: someone on twitter got a clip of him putting his arm around fred going out of the paddock and telling him to get his driver under control

user36: yall are we on the kardashians what the fuck is going on

user37: people may hate christian but he defends his driver so much that he's inserting himself in the relationship drama

user38: i don't even follow f1 but whoever this is this serving oh my

user39: this is so exhausting like i need charles to just apologise so we can get cute y/n x max x charles content

user40: torturing myself thinking about how cute that dynamic could be

f1

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,203,457 others

f1: max verstappen clinches his tenth win of the season at monza, joined by sergio perez and oscar piastri. home heroes charles leclerc and carlos sainz came together at turn one, awful showing for ferrari in monza

view all comments

user41: this narrative is so so poetic

user42: i feel bad for the tifosi at this point y'all get your hopes up every season

user43: charles you aimed the wrong way if you wanted to take max out

user44: the way max kissed y/n after winning god they're so cute

user45: also the way christian got everyone to move so y/n could get to the front to see max

user46: even marko looked happy about it what is going on?

user47: y'all we knew it was gonna be bad for ferrari y/n wasn't wearing red, call me superstitious but every time she's worn red charles has either won or been on the podium

user48: well that's just what he gets for not appreciating her

user49: as fernando would say KARMA

user50: someone check charles' blood pressure please

maxverstappen1

liked by christianhorner, yourusername and 1,304,662 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: winning on and off the track, some of you can't relate.

view all comments

user51: parents omg

danielricciardo: fighting words maxy, not pulling your punches

maxverstappen1: i do my fighting on the track, not my fault people can't get past turn one to give me a real battle

danielricciardo: i need to be inside your brain

maxverstappen1: no there's images of y/n in my brain that no other man will ever see

danielricciardo: you crack me up maxy

yourusername: woah who's that fine ass piece of woman

maxverstappen1: she's taken sorry

yourusername: that's a shame, i hope that man is taking care of her

maxverstappen1: i don't believe she's got any complaints

yourusername: wow you sound like a gentleman, she's a lucky woman

maxverstappen1: believe me i am the lucky one.

yourusername: awwww maxy you're literally the sweetest person in the world

user52: if i was charles and i saw this after that race you'd have to restrain me i'm so serious

user53: i'm happy for y/n and max but i need them to stop being happy in my face

alexalbon: ur welcome for that first picture btw

yourusername: lily taught you well

alexalbon: so no thanks?

yourusername: i joke thank you very much sir albon

user54: so like all of the twitch quartet are on y/n's side? awkward.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, 706,835 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: charles and i have been best friends since i knew what the word meant and it really hurts that is has gotten to this point. when charles got his first girlfriend i chalked it up to the excitement of the experience, but when he routinely got in and out of relationships and falling back on our friendship once scorned, i started to question what he really felt about our friendship. i overlooked it every time even when it made me doubt my worth and hoped our friendship meant more. however, the cycle continued and after being left stranded at a beach in a country i do not know i decided it was the end. i have reached out to you so, so many times and want nothing more than our friendship to work and so we can be life-long friends that we can tell our kids about. but i guess it's not worth that much to you and that's something i'll have to reconcile with. the only positive coming from this the fact that it pushed me to the love of my life, so thank you for that.

comments are turned off.

charles_leclerc

liked by joristrouche, pierregasly and 1,305,783 others

charles_leclerc: i've already got my trophy, sorry not sorry.

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user56: WHAT THE FUCK

user57: my brain is actually scrambled

user58: charles' must be as well cause no way he thought this was a good idea

landonorris: so this is a low blow

charles_leclerc: since when were you the reference point for morals

landonorris: damn dude, you're in the wrong but go off i guess

user59: why do i actually want to cry for y/n right now? she did this whole ass heartfelt post with no comments so people wouldn't be able to speculate and he replies with a pic of his gf's ASS

danielricciardo: not cool dude

charles_leclerc: i see you all took her side and our friendships mean fuck all

danielricciardo: kinda ironic you bring up respecting friendships

charles_leclerc: spare me the lecture

maxverstappen1: you're a child. but this is the closure she needs. cheers to being an asshole.

charles_leclerc: so you managed to get some of my sloppy seconds, you're welcome

maxverstappen1: she's not sloppy seconds and i can't believe you'd refer to her as that. but if you wanna talk sloppy seconds you can hold the 100 point gap between us in the championship. and y/n will never say this so i'll say it for her GO FUCK YOURSELF

user60: SHOTS FIRED

user61: men are so confusing

yourusername added to their story

[caption: taking some time for myself. thank you for your kind words and know i have an amazing support system around me now]

f1wagsupdates

liked by user65, user66 and 5,430 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1wagsupdates: charles leclerc spotted outside y/n y/ln's office with flowers this afternoon. idk at this point, any time i report on this man i lose more brain cells.

view all comments

user67: lol even wag page admins are done

f1wagsupdates: he gives me a lot of content but damn he needs to sort his head out

user68: lol this is gonna be an all time apology tour i can't wait

user69: i honestly don't want y/n to forgive him he doesn't deserve it.

user70: yeah max has proven ride or die for y/n so i know who she should stick with

user71: i need him to donate his brain to science cause in what world is a measly bouquet of flowers gonna cover all of this shit ?

user72: legit he's systematically ditched his best friend, let randomers on the internet drage her name through the mud and then liked it and then flaunted the fact that he didn't care about their friendship for everyone to see

maxverstappen1: lol nice try

user73: my petty king i love him so much

user74: i know y/n is taking a break from social media but i hope she knows how much love she's getting

user75: for real we're all on her side i hope she slammed that door in charles' face

user76: i hope that bouquet ended up in the bin

maxverstappen1 added to their story

[caption: special delivery for a special girl]

note: i know this was heavily requested so here it is!! i really like it and it's defo open for a third part if yall want charles and y/n to reconcile? thank you for reading xx

[xxchumanixx]

heyy love, could you do a tim bradford x fem reader (she is a officer) where they are married and he is totally whipped for her like he does everything she asked him without hesitance.

like one time (this take place when lucy just had become his rookie not a long time ago) for some reason tim, lucy and reader were patrolling together (lucy or reader was sitting in the backseat of the patrol car) and tim was being kinda harsh on lucy like he always is, so reader told him to be nice and scold him. lucy was trying told back her laugh the whole time.

hope this makes sense 😭

Nice for a price

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, Tim being grumpy Word count: 482 Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! I really like the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it. I'm sorry that it's a little short, but I'm a little sick at the moment and I really did my best.

Enjoy!

Sitting in the back of the shop was... weird, to say the least. But Grey had asked you to accompany Tim and his rookie, Lucy, so you didn't have another choice.

Tim was his usual grumpyness, an attitude that you hated. When you were alone together, at home, he was different, like he was another person.

He would be all fluff and cuddles, doing everything you wanted - you just had to ask. Not that you would have let him do everything, but he would have done it without asking questions.

Now, telling Lucy that she should listen more carefully and not frivolously promise a victim to find the bags that had been stolen from her car - a crime that had a solving rate from 0.2% - his voice rose.

"You can't just tell them that you'll find their belongings!" he told her harshly, all the while looking at the street. "To promise a victim something means that they'll be even more disappointed when you can't actually solve the crime, causing them to blame us for it!"

Rolling your eyes you sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest.

You knew how he was with his rookies - hell you'd been his rookie at some point as well - but that didn't mean that you liked his attitude towards them.

"If you-" he wanted to continue, but you cut him off.

"Tim." you warned him, looking at him through the rear view mirror. "What?" he gave back, brows furrowed, as Lucy followed your interaction with great interest.

Giving him a pointed look you crossed your arms above your chest. "She's new, she can't know everything that we do." you told him, brows furrowing as well.

"Maybe, but she has to eventually learn It!" he gave back, shaking his head. "Yes, but you can't expect her not to make mistakes during her first days. So be nice and tell her nicely, to not promise something to a victim and you might get a price for it."

That you meant yourself - naked - as a price, you kept to yourself, even though you knew that he knew what you meant.

Lucy smirked, biting her lip to hold it back, though.

Rolling his eyes Tim huffed and you hit him through the seat. "Ouch!" he made, looking back at you in anger, though it slowly faded at the look you gave him.

"Okay, okay!" he gave in, shooting Lucy a look as she snickered. Covering it up as a cough she tried to avoid another speach.

"But I want my price."

Biting your lip you shook your head at him.

You could see how hard it was for Lucy to hold back the laugh that bubbled up, when Tim looked back at the street.

Smiling you looked out the window, silently laughing to yourself.

You just had to push him a little sometimes.

[pathologicalreid]

the archer | S.R.

in which a trip to your hometown leads to an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angst

content warnings: normal cm violence/death. mentions of sexual assault and physical assault. mentions of miscarriage and dv. arson/fires. please take care of yourself while reading <3.

word count: 5.96k

a/n: if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, the US hotline is 800-799-7233. be well and be safe.

can you see right through me?

Emily had called you into her office fifteen minutes before the briefing began to let you know that the case was in your hometown. “There are some things that may come to light in a small town, and I wanted to let you know that you can stay behind if you need to,” she told you, having shut the blinds to her office to give you the most privacy she could.

Giving it a moment, you thought about it before you met her eyes, “if someone tries to say something, I’d rather be there to clear things up than let them say anything.” You wiped your clammy palms on your plants before standing up, “and besides, who better to work on victimology than someone who knows the town.”

You stepped out of the office, holding the door open for Emily before the two of you made your way to the roundtable room.

The two victims had been killed a week apart, they were both women who you had gone to school with. The first was in your graduating class, Victoria Reynolds, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The second was a year ahead of you, Melanie Baylor, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The team had been called in by the lead detective on the case, Charlie Platten, and he had likely made the call without telling the police chief.

It had already been three days since the second body was recovered, and Emily didn’t want to waste any more time. You left the roundtable room to grab your go-bag, smiling when you felt a familiar presence next to you. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, leaning against your desk while you reached underneath it for your bag.

Stepping in front of him, you looked up at him, “I’m okay, Spence.” You plopped your go bag on top of your desk, “it’ll be okay,” you whisper.

“And if at any point it’s not,” he prompted, placing a hand on your waist.

You simpered up at him, “You’ll be the first person I go to, love.”

He reached over and grabbed your bag off of your desk, carrying it to where the rest of the team is waiting for the elevator. “I’ll admit, I am interested in seeing your hometown,” he told you, letting you step into the elevator before him.

“Yeah, Y/N, maybe you can show us some of your old haunts once we solve the case,” Luke chimed in from the back of the elevator.

Laughing breathily, you turned your head to face Luke, “Do I really strike you as the kind of person to have ‘old haunts’, Alvez?”

A few of your team members chuckle. You faced forward, wondering how long it would be before one of them saw through you. When working with profilers, it was always a risk.

'cause all of my enemies started out friends

Emily sent you and Luke to the latest crime scene while she and Spencer set up at the precinct. JJ and Matt met with the latest victim's family while Tara and Rossi met with the medical examiner. Your stomach felt unsettled as soon as the plane landed, you had a bad feeling about this case. Spencer tried to ask you what was going on with you, but you just brushed him off.

You would tell him. After this case was over and you went home, you would tell Spencer everything. He deserved that.

“Did you know her?” Luke asked, using a gloved hand to inspect a shard of glass he found on the concrete.

Blinking rapidly, you snapped out of your stupor, “Melanie? Yeah, she was a year ahead of me in school. I graduated with Victoria though.” You used the toe of your boot to clear some dirt off of what looked like some sort of plaque. “I wasn’t all that close with either of them, but in a town this small, you kind of know everyone,” you explained.

Standing back up and walking back over to Luke, you looked at the building, it’s an abandoned factory on the edge of town. “Is there any significance to this building?”

“It was a functioning factory in the eighties,” you explained, looking at the vines growing up the side of it. “This business was the entire economy of the town, when the factory went down, so did the town.”

Luke nodded, taking a step back and eyeing the entire decrepit building. “And the church? Where the first body was found.”

You pursed your lips, “Only church in town, I was baptized there, when it burned down people had nowhere else to go, so they stopped believing.”

“How did the fire start?” He asked, turning the knob on the factory door, and looking surprised when it opened.

You shrugged, “lightning strike, I thought. I wasn’t much of a believer, especially once my mom died.”

Alvez nodded in understanding, “Would you say that both of these locations are important to the town and its history?”

Nodding, you followed Luke back to the SUV, leaning back in the passenger seat as you mentally prepared yourself for the scene your arrival at the precinct was about to cause.

When you got there, you immediately spotted the police chief ripping the lead detective, Charlie, a new one outside the front door. He saw you and did a double take, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Sir, we’re members of the BAU, our-“ Luke started explaining, obviously confused at the chief’s combative nature.

He held up a hand, “I wasn’t talking to you, agent.” Turning to face you, “You don’t show your face at home, leaving in the middle of the night ten years ago and now you’re what? A big bad FBI agent?”

You stiffened, pushing your shoulders back as you faced him. Stand tall, stay strong. “It wasn’t the middle of the night, and the FBI is only big and bad to the people who deserve it, Frank.”

The man in front of you scoffed, “I’m talking to your supervisor, you’re not working on this case.” He pushes past you, causing you to stumble back against the wall.

“What was that about? Who was that guy?” Luke asked, looking at you as you got your bearings back before walking into the precinct.

Bowing your head, you grumbled, “You just met my father.” At that moment, you were glad to be facing away from him, because you weren’t sure you could face any of it.

You’re still the newest member of the BAU, technically being a profiler but Emily pulled you in to help with public communications, since the old unit chief had been handling it along with Garcia, Emily did the same. When Spencer went to prison, she found she needed extra help, so you were snagged from your cozy office in sex crimes and sent to the BAU.

You fit in well with everyone, and you never really felt the need to prove yourself. Even taking the initiative to write letters to Spencer, because you didn’t want to be a stranger to him when he came back. So, when you met face-to-face last year, he thanked you. When you kissed him eight months ago, you both agreed to move slowly.

Seven months ago, he showed up at your door and told you he loved you.

Emily gave you an understanding look when she saw you walk into the police station, she, of course, knew everything about your situation.

“We don’t have enough for any sort of geographic profile yet,” Spencer said, standing in front of a whiteboard with a map over it, along with pictures of the two victims. He turned as soon as he saw you, smiling in a silent greeting. You winked in response, sitting down in the office chair next to him.

Luke stood in front of you, blocking your view of the whiteboard, “What do you mean that was your father? Why wouldn’t you say that your dad was the chief of police here?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “I may share DNA with the man, but I haven’t seen Frank Burris since I was twenty years old.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? Did she tell you?” Luke asked Spencer, who was still looking at the whiteboard, entirely unbothered.

“What did you find at the crime scene?” Emily asked, effectively ending Luke’s questioning. You had no idea if she had heard any of the previous conversation, but either way, you were grateful for the change in subject.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and faced her, “The dump sites are all places that are former symbols of the town, maybe the unsub wants to further desecrate these locations.” Emily nodded, prompting you to continue. “These kills are angry, the overkill and sexual assault definitely lean toward a male offender, I think the unsub is angry,” you said.

“Angry that his town is no longer what it once was,” Spencer suggested, taking his eyes off the whiteboard. “Are there any other locations that could fit that general description?”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Probably, I haven’t been here in ten years, it might help to talk to a local. Charlie could probably help.”

“Charlie can’t help with anything; the chief took him off the case. It belongs to me now,” a voice behind you said. Immediately, you straightened up in your chair, earning a strange look from Spencer. “Y/N, I’m looking forward to working with you,” the male voice said.

Swallowing thickly, you turned and faced him, “I wish I could say the same, Johnny.” You stood up, needing as much ground as you could get. “Do you know any places that would fit the description? Somewhere that used to be a symbol in the down, but is abandoned now?”

“The school burnt down about eight days ago, but you’d know that if you gave a damn about us,” he said indignantly, looking down at you.

You felt Spencer stand behind you, “do you have some kind of problem?”

Johnny eyed your boyfriend and you hoped he didn’t catch on to your relationship, “If I’m being totally honest, I’m not completely comfortable working with Y/N.”

“Our team was called in to help solve these murders and Agent Y/L/N is a part of that team,” Emily defended you. “If you have a problem, I suggest you suck it up until this case is solved.”

Angrily, Johnny stalked off. You turned around and grabbed a file off of the desk, glancing over at Emily and silently thanking her.

help me hold on to you

Later in your shared hotel room, Spencer looked at you curiously, “Was he an ex-boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the bed, it wasn’t the worst bed you’ve slept in since joining the BAU, but it certainly wasn’t going to be winning any awards any time soon. “Don’t be jealous, Spence, it’s unbecoming," you deflected.

Spencer climbed on top of the bed and kissed your forehead, “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned.”

That made your heart clench, you sat up in the bed and cupped his face with your hands, “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You studied his face, the small crease in his forehead that told you he was overthinking the situation made you sigh. Gently, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “If I think you need to be concerned, I’ll tell you,” you whispered, allowing him to gather you in his arms.

“Okay, angel,” he whispered back.

You sighed and laid back against the pillows, “I have a bad feeling about this case,” you told him softly. Spencer doesn’t believe in intuition the way you do, but he’d never discredit your feelings.

He reached over and swept your hair behind your ear, “Me too.”

Pulling away from him, you looked at him curiously, “Why?”

He shrugged, “Both of them look like you. You’re the same age as them.” The victims, he was saying the victims were too similar to you for his own comfort. You hadn’t really given it much thought. If you start comparing yourself to the victims, you’d freeze up. That was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you comforted, curling up next to him.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey

The call came at five in the morning, only four hours after you had gone to sleep. Splitting up into two SUVs, half of you went to the precinct while the other half of you went to the crime scene.

“Katherine Meadows was dumped in front of the school,” Emily said, leading you, Tara, and Rossi into the precinct. You were still pulling your blazer on over your tank top, having been given approximately five minutes between waking up and getting out the door.

You stopped in your tracks; your mouth went dry. You knew of the other victims, but you were friends with Katherine. She helped you pay for your plane ticket out of here. You owed her your life, and now you’d never be able to repay her.

“What kind of school is it? Elementary? High school?” Rossi asked, flipping through a file that had been left on a desk.

Snapping out of your daze, you shook your head, “It’s K-12 all in the same building, that’s why it’s such a big deal that it’s gone.” You looked at the whiteboard, there weren’t any pictures of Katherine up yet, but you could imagine it. She looked more like you than the other victims, and you silently cursed Spencer for putting those thoughts in your head.

“Agent Y/L/N,” you heard Johnny call from behind you, he and your father were charging toward you at an alarming pace. “Are you armed?”

Your head snapped up, “yes,” you answered, putting your hand on your holstered weapon, watching as Johnny and Frank pulled their guns out.

“Please hand over your firearm to Detective Klein and put your hands up,” Frank commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you handed the weapon over to Johnny, facing him directly. It gave you tunnel vision, and you couldn’t even hear the protests of your team as you raised your hands level with your head.

Johnny grabbed your wrists, and you hissed as he cuffed you, the metal cutting into your skin when he made the handcuffs too tight. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murders of Victoria Reynolds, Melanie Baylor, and Katherine Meadows. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” He shoved you in the direction of the interrogation room, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

An officer opened the door, and he pushed you down into a metal chair, hooking your handcuffs to the table in front of you.He continued reading your rights, “If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you will still have the right to cease answering at any time until you are able to talk to an attorney.” Johnny said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Do you understand your rights?”

You glared up at him, “What the hell are you doing, Johnny?”

He slammed a palm on the table, “Do you understand your rights?”

Pursing your lips, you looked away and peered right at the glass window ahead of you, “Yes, I understand my rights.”

“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” He asked, leaning far too close to you, you could smell the cigarette smoke on his uniform. That smell was on you for years after you left, you were convinced you’d never be able to fully wash it off. Maybe you hadn’t.

You seethed up at him, “fuck no.”

Johnny nodded assuredly, opening the door to the interrogation room, and slamming it shut.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull the handcuffs away from where it was pinching your skin, you winced when it tore your skin. You set your head down on the cold table and sigh, knowing you should’ve taken Emily’s offer to stay behind when you had the chance.

Another officer came in later and told you they wanted your jacket and shoes for evidence, you didn’t fight them, numbly watching as he unlocked the handcuffs and took your jacket before putting the cuffs back on, just as tight. You kicked off your shoes for the officer and sat back down. Before he left, another officer came in and dropped an evidence box on the table.

It was an FBI scare tactic to leave an empty evidence box on an interrogation room table, but your box wasn’t empty.

They wanted to humiliate you in front of your team, and it was working. 

all the king's horses, all the kings men, couldn't put me together again

The next people to open the door were Charlie and Tara, they sat down across from you. “I’m really sorry about all of this Y/N,” he muttered to you, pulling some files out of the evidence box.

You shrugged and shook your head, “Nothing Johnathan Klein does to me anymore really surprises me.” You looked at the files.

Charlie was hesitant to open the files, “there’s some rough stuff in here if you’re okay with going over some of it with us.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at the file, “I don’t really have a ton of choice, do I?”

You hated both of them for pitying you, but more than anything you hated your father and Johnny for doing this to you and wasting time while there was a serial killer on the loose. He opened the file and placed pictures of the three victims in front of you.

For a couple of minutes, he asked general questions. Do you know them? How did you know them?

Then Tara finally asked a question, “Y/N, how old were you when your mother died?” She asked you, placing a photo of you and your mom in front of you. You were probably seven in the picture.

“Ten,” you answered, looking at the picture. You wondered if you could keep it once this was all over.

“When you were ten, you started a string of hospital visits that lasted until you were twenty years old. Broken ribs, concussions, fractures, and… a miscarriage,” Tara said, your eyes snapped up to look at her.

Your mouth went dry “You had Garcia unseal my files?” You couldn’t help the hurt in your voice.

The way Tara looked at you, you could tell she understood you in a whole new light now, “we had to. She felt horrible doing it.” That you didn’t doubt, the whole team had a mostly unspoken rule on inter-team profiling. You nodded understandingly.

“Y/N, do you have an alibi for the murders? We already cleared up that you weren’t working, but can anyone account for your whereabouts?” Charlie asked impatiently, he knew you didn’t do this, and it might not be his case anymore, but you could still tell he wanted it solved.

Looking directly at Tara, you answered the question, “No, I wasn’t with anyone.”

Your coworker set her jaw as Charlie got up and left.

“How did you get those injuries, Y/N?” Tara continued her line of questioning, setting a packet of medical records in front of you. You were still cuffed, so all you could do was touch the papers with your fingertips.

The paper read of chromosomes and a D&C, you couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes, “I- uh. I don’t want to look at that, please.”

Quickly, Tara pulled the papers away, “who hurt you?”

You bit your lip to stifle a cry, “Tara, please.” You knew what was going on, the only person who knew everything was retaliating against the precinct. They humiliated you, so she was going to humiliate them. She repeated the question and this time you answered, “My father.”

“Was your father also the father of your baby?” She asked, looking down at the papers. Honestly, she looked just about as uncomfortable as you were.

Solemnly, you shook your head, “That was Johnny. We were together from when I was fifteen until I was twenty. My dad-“ Your voice broke off, “Frank never touched me like that.”

“Can you tell me more about Frank?” She asked softly, the way she spoke to victims. The one thing you had tried to avoid.

Blearily, you looked up at your friend, “Can we take a break?”

Nodding, Tara stood up. When she opened the door, you heard shouting. People asking if your cuffs could be taken off. You just let your tears fall for a moment. Charlie came back and unlocked your cuffs, looking at the dried blood on them and the still bleeding wounds on your wrists, “I- I think we have a first aid kit somewhere.”

You brushed him off, waiting for him to leave and for Tara to come back. She did, draping a sweater over the table, and you tentatively grabbed it. Sighing when you recognized it as Spencer’s, “Has everyone seen the paperwork?”

She nodded slowly, “are you alright to talk to me about Frank now?”

You used your newly freed hands to wipe under your eyes before pulling the cardigan on. “It was my mom, she took everything he threw at her to protect me,” you whispered. “He hit me when I was ten, I had gotten a bad grade in social studies. So, my mom and I planned to leave, but he figured it out,” you said, furrowing your brows at the memory. “He strangled her, and she died. He told everyone she hung herself. The whole town believed him because he was the chief of police.”

Tara wrote something down, “he killed her in front of you?”

You nodded, “He needed someone else to take his aggression out on after that, so he beat me.” You told her, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s sweater. “So, when I was fifteen and I met a boy, I thought I had found the answers to all of my problems, but I really had just discovered more.”

“The boy was Johnathan Klein?”

Affirming her question again, you continued your story, “he was a horny fifteen-year-old boy, and he had sex with me even when I begged him not to. He told me he had to because he loved me, and I believed him.”

Tara leaned over and looked you in the eyes, “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” You asked meekly, tilting your head to the side. “He proposed to me the day we graduated from high school. I had already accepted the fact that I was never getting out of the town, but what I didn’t know was by getting engaged to him I was very nearly signing my own death certificate.” You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in your chest, “I found out I was pregnant when I was nineteen, and looking back at it now, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Tara didn’t speak, she just listened. You supposed that was the psychologist in her, letting you take the lead in your own story.

You furrowed your brows as you tried to bring memories that you had spent so long burying to the surface. “I knew I couldn’t make my baby go through the same thing I went through, so I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He found me, he beat me, he brought me to the hospital, and he told me I killed our baby.” You could see the story was bothering Tara. When you told Emily, you told her in pieces over the span of a month. “The only people I was allowed to see after that were my dad, Johnny, and Katherine.” You wiped tears from your face, “the judge wouldn’t grant me a restraining order, my only option was to run. So, when Kath showed up with a plane ticket and an envelope of cash, I took the opportunity and left.”

“Y/N, do you think these murders could be somehow connected to your upbringing here?” Tara asked, flipping through another file.

You looked back at the glass that separates the observation room, having no idea who was on the other side listening. “I didn’t until Reid said the victims looked like me,” you confessed. It felt too convenient, victims looking like you, you being framed for their murders. Yet, you still made sure not to call Spencer by his first name, afraid of giving yourself away. “Do they have any evidence?”

“They found soil from the factory crime scene on your shoes, but your jacket is still being processed. Without an alibi, we can’t get them to release you,” Tara said.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in the chair, “Of course, they found soil from the factory crime scene on my shoes, I was at the scene yesterday.”

The door opened and Frank stepped inside, “Your alibi spoke up.” He sounded irritated, but not as irritated as he’s going to be once the BAU is through with him.

i see right through me

Spencer had settled you down on a desk in the corner of the precinct, disinfecting the cuts on your wrists made by Johnny’s handcuffs. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as he cleaned the debris from your torn skin.

He didn’t respond, he just shook his head. You could tell he was thinking, as clearly as if you could see gears physically turning in his head.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, bending your neck to try to catch his eyes.

He shook his head again, “I’m not upset, not with you at least.”

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “Then stop getting so lost in thought. What’s bothering you?”

He clasped both of your hands in his own, setting them in your lap, “Does it feel like a coincidence to you that the same night Johnny told us about the school the woman who helped you escape an abusive relationship was found dead at that school?” Spencer dropped your hands, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out bandages before gingerly wrapping your wrists. At work, you tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, but you felt like these were extenuating circumstances, which was why you had secluded yourselves in the corner.

“I need to look at the crime scene photos again,” you said, trying to get off of the desk.

Spencer firmly placed both of his hands on your hips, effectively keeping you in place. “Once I’m done,” he whispered, securing the bandages on your wrists. “Are you alright?”

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sadly, “Everyone learned a lot about me today. Some of it I had never intended on telling them. I just feel… exposed? Raw?” You searched desperately for the right word to use to describe exactly how you feel.

Hanging your head low, your eyes traced patterns in the carpet when Spencer hooked a finger gently under your chin and lifted your head, so you were looking at him. His honey-colored eyes searched your face, and you felt like he was looking right through you. “You know nothing that happened today makes any of us see you differently, right? I don’t think of you as any less of a person because of what I learned today.”

You shook your head, “You don’t learn those things about your girlfriend and look at her the same.”

“You’re right. I don’t look at you the same, I’m even more in awe of you now than I was before. The fact that you’ve been through what you’ve been through and you’re this bright, shiny person sitting in front of me is astounding, but…” His voice trailed off.

Here it was, he couldn’t want who you were. He didn’t want the heavy history that comes with you. You shut your eyes.

He cupped your face with his hands, “it makes me worry that maybe I haven’t been there for you enough. Not in the same way you’re there for me.”

“Spence,” you whispered, swallowing back your emotions, and looking up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “I love you, and I have to make sure that you know that I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

Nodding rapidly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, “I know.” Your voice was little more than a rasp, “I know, I love you too.”

After assuring Emily and Tara that your friendship was intact, you turned to the team. “I think I play a bigger part in this case than I realize.”

“We were just coming to a similar conclusion, once we saw what Katherine Meadows looked like, it just confirmed our suspicions,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard, which now had Kath’s picture on it, as well as yours. “The whole town seems to have it out for you, though. How do we narrow down the suspect pool?”

You stepped up to the whiteboard, “Because it’s not about the locations and their relation to the town, it’s about the locations and their relation to me.” You pointed to the factory, “When I was fifteen, this was the first place Johnny ever assaulted me.”

“You said he proposed to you at your high school graduation, right?” Tara said, “That’s the connection to the school.”

Nodding, you continued, “And we were going to get married at the church.”

Spencer wrote this all down on the whiteboard as you fit the pieces of this puzzle together. “Is there anywhere else that would fit in with these other locations?”

Flipping through a file, you set papers down on the desk in front of your team. “That’s our house, it was set on fire not long after I left,” you pointed out. “That’s where he’s going next.”

“But who will his victim be? If we can get to her before he can, then we can stop him before he gets to her,” Matt mentioned.

Slowly, you turned around and faced your team, “I don’t intend on letting anyone else get hurt. This is between me and Johnny.”

who could stay?

You sat yourself down at the dining room table. Nothing in the house had been moved, its charred remains were left defenseless against Mother Nature. You knew this table, there was blood ground into the wood grain. It was your blood.

You wished they had torn the rest of the structure down.

Spencer didn’t like the idea of you going alone, but you were armed, and you had an earpiece in. You weren’t alone, the team was nearby in case things went wrong.

“Incoming, blue pick-up pulling into the driveway,” Luke said through the radio. “Suspect’s getting out, it doesn’t look like anyone’s with him.”

Realistically, you knew nothing was going to happen to you, but there was some small voice in the back of your head that told you something was going to go awry.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the floral-patterned chair. Part of you was grateful that the team had enough faith in you to send you to get a confession on your own, but another part of you wished someone would’ve asked you if this is really what you want to do. Sure, you wanted Johnathan Klein to be put away for a long time, but you didn’t want to be in this house. When you left, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot in this godforsaken town ever again.

Sitting up straight, the front door opened. You’re not sure why he opens the door when there’s a hole in the wall leading right to you. “I thought you might come looking for me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I always knew you’d come back to me, baby,” Johnny spoke to you in a low voice, but you knew the team could hear.

“I didn’t come here for you, Johnny,” you whispered, keeping your voice steady. “I came for the girls who were murdered. I knew them, we both did,” you told him. That was the truth, you felt like you owed them because they died while you got to live.

He sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. It was all you could do to not flinch away from him. “Then why did you bring that guy? If not to make me jealous, then why?”

“Johnny, if I go with you, will it stop?” You asked, turning to him, reaching out your hand, and placing it on his arm.

Humming, he reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear, luckily not the side where you had your earbud in. “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’ll have to spell it out for me,” he said, pulling you to your feet abruptly. You didn’t see the knife when he first walked in, you didn’t even know he had it until it was to your throat.

But you weren’t twenty years old anymore. You had grown up. You had learned self-defense.

So, you caught him off guard when you hit him, causing the knife to clatter to the ground. “You bitch!” He growled, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You won’t kill me,” you said, planting your feet on the ground. “You had five years to kill me, Johnny.”

He stood up, “No, but I killed a part of you. Didn’t I? When I killed your baby?”

After all these years, he knew how to get under your skin. He got one hit off, across your cheek, the strike so hard that your earbud went flying across the room. “You killed the part of me that you created, that’s not who I am. I recreated myself, a version of myself without this godforsaken town.”

“But I got you here, back home. I killed all those girls for you to come back to me,” he said, running straight at you.

You hit him with your gun, you physically struck him with the butt of the gun. You could’ve shot him, it would’ve been clean, but you didn’t. That would’ve been easy for him. He dropped like a ragdoll and the rest of your team came rushing in. Someone was calling your name, but you couldn’t hear.

Matt ended up being the one who cuffed him, you slowly walked away from them. Backing yourself into a wall, you watched it all happen.

When you left your hometown, you never quite felt like it was over. He was always still going to be around. But this? This felt final.

It made your chest ache.

Gently, Spencer took your hand and led you outside. “It’s done?”

He nodded rapidly, “It’s over, angel. Emily and Luke are at the precinct taking Frank into custody. They’ll both go away for a long time.”

“Spence, I want to go home,” you whispered, looking down the road and seeing houses that you recognize from your childhood. This whole town was filled with your own ghosts. “Can we go home?”

Spencer didn't answer, he just pulled you into him and held you tightly. You let him inspect the wound on your cheek before you went back to the hotel and put everyone’s belongings in an SUV.

On the jet, the two of you sequestered yourselves in the back where it’s darker. He offered to let you lie down, so you rested your head in his lap. He used one hand to hold his book and the other to smooth your hair back. Your eyes were shut, but you were vaguely aware of the rest of the team as they took turns peeking back at the both of you.

you could stay

please remember to like, reblog, and comment

[zeppelinlvr]

Kiss Your Eyes Again

Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you and Sam head home from the bar before dean, the two of you get ready for bed but you find yourself wishing you had gotten a room for just the two of you.

Notes: Like half of this got deleted and I had to rewrite it and I almost cried. Also, the fic literally has nothing to do with the song Anything by Adrianne Lenker I was just listening to the Songs album while writing this. I want to thank all of you for the continuous support, I appreciate it so much. Also feel free to send in requests because I'm running out of ideas 💔

Warnings: Cursing, this gets frisky but there's no actual smut, making out, fluff.

w.c 1.4k

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You placed two beers for Dean and Sam down and a seltzer for yourself, on the small table at the bar. Sam, Dean and you were in the middle of a case, Dean and Sam had done interviews with victims and visited the morgue while you looked at autopsy reports, symbols they had found, and the contents of the hex bags they had discovered. You knew the three of you were dealing with a powerful witch as the spells you found being used were from around the 15th century.

“This witch is hardcore, her end goal looks like she wants to be possessed by or summon a demon, we need to get to her before she can even attempt to do that” You told the two as you sat down.

“Why the hell would someone want to be possessed by a demon?” Dean asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“No clue” you shrugged “Some witches have sex with demons too, they use it as a way to seal the pact they made with the demon”

Dean scrunched his face “I’m glad you're smart but you don't have to share everything you know”

Sam was watching you with interest in what you were saying “so we’re not just dealing with some everyday pagan?”

“Nope, this bitch is crazy” you told him with a giggle.

Sam gave you a soft smile, the two of you had been dating for a while but he always looked at you like it was the first time he’s seeing you, his eyes wide, taking in how beautiful you are.

The conversation carried on, the two boys sharing about the people they had met and how a few seemed off their rocker.

You finished your drink then said to the two “I’m tired, I’m gonna head back” You gave Sam a look, wanting him to join you, not only because you didn't want to walk in the dark but you missed the two of you being alone together and you were hoping to get some time with just him.

“I’ll go back with you, I’m tired too” Sam responded.

“Don't be gettin’ your freak on you two, I’m not gonna be out all night, I’ll have a couple more and head back” Dean told both of you, a smile on his face at your reaction of embarrassment.

“He’ll be done before you even finish your next drink” you joked, earning a laugh from Dean and Sam quick to defend himself with statements about how it wasn't true.

You and Sam headed out of the bar, the motel was only about a 5-minute walk away. You gave a dramatic shiver in hopes to get his jacket.

“Sammy, I’m so cold” you giggled and rubbed your arms dramatically

“You don't deserve my jacket after that comment” he replied, rolling his eyes as he shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders.

“We both know it isn't true and that's all that matters” you told him, putting your arms through the sleeves and cuddling into it, his smell engulfing you.

Sam laughed and brought his arm around your shoulder, his larger frame completely overshadowing you. You brought your arm around his waist and began to gently scratch his back. He placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m not really tired, I just wanted some alone time with you” you admitted “I love Dean but I want to be alone with you sometimes”

“I know baby” he told you “how about we get ready for bed then we can cuddle and watch some desperate housewives”

You smiled at the mention of the cheesy show the two of you had gotten invested in, it started off as a background show that you’d turn on when you waited for the boys to come back to the motel, or when you and Sam were trying to fall asleep, but you quickly became invested and so did Sam.

“That sounds perfect” you told him

The two of you had returned to the motel, Sam unlocked the door and you made your way over to your duffle bag, changing into your pajamas, Sam did the same. You made your way to the bathroom Sam close behind, you brushed your teeth at the same time as him, unable to hold back your giggles at the toothpaste that dripped down his chin and how aggressively he brushed his teeth.

You washed your face and he watched you closely, eyeing the products you put on your face.

“Why do you have so many potions for your face?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

“Sam, its three things, and it's so my face doesn't break out and get greasy” You explained

He was nothing short of intrigued by your explanation “But why is your face wash called la roach pussy?” he asked, reading the bottle

“Its probably french or something” you shrugged “I don't know how to actually say the name”

When both of you were ready for bed, you turned on the current episode of desperate housewives that you were on.

You snuggled into Sam, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you leaned into his shoulder. Both of you attempting to cuddle while still being able to see the show.

Sam placed a kiss on the top of your head “I’m sorry we don't get a lot of alone time, I wish I could give you a white picket fence life, but I think we both know that's out of the question by now”

“Sammy don't apologize, and I’m okay with not having a Stepford Wives style of living” you paused “It’s more interesting to research monsters and see you come back sweaty and covered in dirt, its hot” you giggled and poked his chest, he shook his head in response, but a small laugh escaped.

“Sam, I really do love you and I wouldn't trade the life we have for anything, I like knowing we helped people at the end of the day” you added earnestly.

A smile played on his face as he brought you in for a kiss. It was slow and loving, he brought a hand to hold the back of your head, gently toying with your hair. You scratched and rubbed his shoulder, your other hand on his neck playing with the tufts of hair.

The kiss became heated when Sam picked you up and set you on his lap, doing it with such ease it felt as if you weighed nothing. He worked kisses along your collarbone, a soft moan escaping your lips at the sensation. He placed a few kisses on your shoulder before pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your bare chest, running his hands along your sides a few times, tracing your figure, before grabbing one of your breasts with his large hands, he began to gently toy with your nipple. Your incoherent encouragement and praises followed, you were unable to speak properly, it had been a while since you had been able to be so intimate with Sam.

“I know baby, it's okay” he said in response to your babbling.

You ground down onto his lap, earning a groan from him, you had your hand around the back of his neck tugging on his hair more desperately now, your other hand holding on to his large arm. You felt his growing erection against your core, your arousal pooling at the overwhelming sensations you were experiencing.

Sam brought his lips to yours again, his chest heaving as he harshly breathed while kissing you. His hand on the back of your head pushed you into him, holding you close. You continued to grind down onto his lap, Sam swallowing your soft moans and letting out groans and soft whines of pleasure.

As Sam was beginning to pull off your pants you heard a knock at the door. You sighed, not wanting this moment to be cut short. You threw your shirt on quickly and climbed out of Sam’s lap, giving him a sweet kiss.

“Are you two decent” Dean yelled through the door

Sam was uncomfortably shifting around, pulling the blanket over his lap.

“Yep, just watching tv” You yelled back

You heard the door unlock and Dean entered the room, laughing at Sam’s messy hair and your disheveled shirt, he chose to keep his comments to himself and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Sam pulled you into him, his chest flush against your back, he wrapped his arms around you, and you snuggled into him. You could tell he was still aroused, his erection poking you. You giggled at his issue, and he sighed but also laughed.

“We’ll get our own room next time” he told you and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

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[enwoso]

request for reader struggling/acting out because of their adhd or like teen!reader always in trouble with older members of the team for something because of going along with KCCs antics and pranks

HYPER — arsenal women x reader

this has been a long time coming! but it’s finally here!! BUT i do wanna say thank you for 600 followers. i appreciate each and every single one of you that reads and interacts with my blog — forehead kisses to you all<33

masterlist

being the youngest on the team had it's benefits like you were basically everyone's honorary little sister and you always had your teammates looking out for you. however with every benefit came with a bad thing like you always had your teammates looking out for you and watching your every move.

this meant that sometimes your fun got cut short by one of the older members and the lecture would begin. it was like being back at school again and being told off for flicking a pen at someone.

it's not like you liked being in trouble it just seamed to follow you for some reason.

"are we gonna have a good session today, y/n?" kim asked her eye brows rising slightly as you both walked out to training side by side, you smiling innocently, "i always have a good session kimmy!"

you giggled rushing off, kim sighing saying her prays for the day in her head that everything would run soomthly today. although that innocent- or non so innocent smile you just flashed the captain told her everything she needed.

you running ahead to find your right hand, in the name of kyra cooney-cross. or as the rest of the squad would call her your partner in crime.

"hey kyra!" you yelled jumping onto her back, your arms wrapping tightly around her neck as the australian's knees seemed to buckle and within seconds you were both on the ground kicking at each other as you rolled along the grass in fits of giggles.

"y/n get.. off of me!" kyra got out in between laughs as you defended yourself back, "no krya you get off me!"

"girls! get up off the floor now!" the stern voice of leah williamson yelled over your giggles as her shadow covered you both. quickly breaking up knowing not to really push your luck with the blonde, although sometimes you liked to just to see how far you could push until the frown on her face became permanent.

you both mumbling a quick sorry before being called over by the coaches so that the outdoor session could actually begin. the frown on leah’s face staying in place.

the outdoor session went over quicker than you thought it would, the slight drizzle of rain making an appearance towards the end meaning your kit was slightly sticking to you but nevertheless it was lunch time, you and kyra were walking at the back of everyone else discussing you next plan of action.

“today’s been well boring! wanna cause some havoc?” you questioned a smile on your face as kyra almost immediately nodded, you never needed to ask kyra twice.

“who’s the victim?” kyra asked as you hummed, trying to rack your brain on whose buttons in a while. “oh i wouldn’t say victim, let’s just say we’re checking their alert!” you grinned.

“um well we can’t get katie cause she’ll probably hang me upside down on the ceiling, we got vic last week with the fake apple” you listed off, krya saying names quietly to you.

“steph will definitely rat us out to leah and lessi is still annoyed at us for the hot sauce so- oh i know” you were still listing off names before having a light blub moment light up in your head, a loud gasp coming from you as kyra looked on at you in confusion.

“who?”

“beth, of course!”

"right whose hid my shoe!" beth complained as she huffed, her other shoe hanging limp by her side in her hand.

the room filling with 'i don't knows' and shrugs as majority went back to getting a drink before getting ready to head into the gym for the afternoon session. beth looking around the room for her shoe, peering at kyra's side.

"kyra, where's y/n put my shoe? i won't tell kim if you just tell me where it is" beth raised an eyebrow trying to try the bribe game, the older girl knowing you both never liked to have a lecture from either kim or leah.

cause in your eyes, your weren't causing trouble. you were just giving people a little bit of entertainment.

kyra gave a small smile to beth before shrugging, beth trying again to pry and answer from the young australian but getting no where.

beth huffing loudly, as she moved closer to you. "y/n where is my shoe?" she spoke with sweet tone as you finished zipping up your bag turning to the blonde.

"bethany your shoe is in your hand?" you pointed to the trainer as beth rolled her eyes blowing a sharp breathe of air out of her mouth pinching her nose.

"y/n i know one of my shoes in my hand, but i don’t have only one foot, and i know you know where the other one is!"

"nah i don't sorry" you shrugged your shoulders turning back to what you were doing hearing beth scoff, "i'll be telling leah!" she mumbled under her breath, it was just a empty threat. beth wouldn't snitch, right.

you put your own trainers on as beth still wondered the room looking for her shoe as you made you way to the gym for your session.

your gym session went over quite quickly and thankfully it was home time, you limbs were aching and you couldn't wait to just lie in your own bed. however, during the session you couldn't help but notice the stern look leah had been sending your way the entire time.

and even though leah would usually always have a stern look on her face this one you'd seen more times than you'd like to admit.

it was never a good sign.

"your in trouble kid!" steph whispered as she walked past you, patting you on the shoulder before walking in front of you.

"what, why! i haven't done anything!" you huffed a frown appearing on your face as steph turned around and shrugged before walking ahead to catch up with lia. you had done something but that was harmless, and it was the only thing you’d done today!

you decided that the best way to stay out of trouble was to avoid leah like the plague. that way if you didn’t get the lecture from the older blonde then really it never happened! at least that’s how your brain worked, call it a form of girl math!

however, you hadn’t been lucky in escaping the blonde as she cornered you in the locker room meaning there was no way out you were going to have to listen to her lecture.

huffing you sat back down on the bench, leah sitting down beside you. now not blocking off the entrance, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about making a run for it but that would have made it ten times worse for yourself so you stayed rooted to the bench in the changing room.

“y/n you know i hate having this conversation with you, both me and kim get bored having to tell you the same thing-“ leah began as you played the string of your bag, leah looking at you with softened eyes.

“don’t get me wrong i want you to have fun, and enjoy training but you need to learn the limit” leah carried on as you nodded, okay maybe sometimes you would take it a little far but harmless jokes were fine, surely!

“cause do you still wanna make the senior squad for the euros?” leah asked as your head perked up, that was the goal. you had your eyes on the prize and you were willing to do anything to make sure you could be there. wanting to create history with the lionesses like they did at the last world cup and euros.

“yeah, i wanna be there”

leah nodded, “well you’re going to have to start and be a bit more mature y/n because not only what your like on the pitch but sarina takes into account of what a players like off the pitch”

you understood that but sometimes you could help it, it was as if sometimes when trouble happened it wasn’t you. it was someone else — it may sound silly to the average person. but you weren’t always the silly childish person.

“cause the senior team won’t stand for that, does that make sense” leah finished as you nodded, a sad smile on your face.

“heard you loud and clear!” you looked up letting go of the string of your bag as leah sighed a breath of relief.

“good now let’s get you home and we’ll have a better day tomorrow?” leah asked as she stood up first, picking up her bag as you nodded following the same actions as leah swung her arm around your shoulder as you both walked out of the training facility.

“your life would be so boring with out me!” you giggled as leah pressed the unlock button on her car keys, you already having put your training bag in the boot before getting into the passenger seat.

“maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing eh?” leah mutter as a small gasp came from you, “hey, i’m not that bad”

“whatever helps you sleep at night kiddo!”

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝚄𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚑𝚊 𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚎 - 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

Ft Aquarium|Enclosure; ft tail, teeth + claws, claiming|mating(heavy mentions of future claiming), knotting, kind of insinuation of Size Kink??, cunnilingus, bit of pervy!Sasuke, breeding, creampie

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own Naruto or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 7,648

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Includes Human/non-human romance/sex, minimal use of Y/n, 3rd Person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Merman Sasuke Merman Sasuke Merman Sasuke Merman- get ready for some Sasuke fish dick(with a knot 😏),,, HOLY FUCK Y’all it took me over 3 weeks to finish this fucking chapter. Longest chapter thus far and probably the longest chapter in this whole damn book- My brain is fried. Istg I’m gonna be recovering from this one for d a y s.

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

Sasuke swam to the edge of his tank and rested his arms on the edge, resting his chin on his crossed forearms, staring at his caretaker through the open separations of his shelter and the next one over. She always wore simple clothes overtop of her swimsuit which consisted of a skirt and a translucent long-sleeved crop top. She cycled through swimsuits, sometimes wearing one that showed off her midriff. Sometimes one that covered everything up to a high neck. Occasionally she would wear one that dipped deliciously low into her cleavage. Then, on special days she’d even wear a 2 piece.

Today she wore a new one. It was a new two-piece with a simple high hip bikini bottom. It had a tie-back wrap cross-style top with two straps that crisscrossed over her ribs and tied together in the back that showed off the centre underside of her breasts. As she bent down to grab the bucket of food for his neighbors, the Aquatic Water Serpents, he saw how tightly her swimsuit clung to her body.

More specifically, he saw how tightly it clung to her cunt and ass as her skirt lifted up enough it was entirely on display. He bit his lip at the sight and he felt his cock stirring in its sheath. He waited patiently, though. He’s her last stop for the day so he always gets to spend the most time with her.

He could wait. She was on her second to last stop anyhow. She scritched under the serpent’s chin and smiled at the youngling before heading off.

“Be good for Iruka, little one!” She cheerfully called back to all the hatchlings and closed the separation before heading to the one that led to the last Silvertip Shark Mer. The rest of his kind had been either poached or fallen victim to his elder brother who had been sent into a cannibalistic frenzy before he regained his sanity long enough to see what he had done and sacrificed himself to the poachers who stayed circling their cove.

The Search and Rescue facility he was currently residing in, Konoha, had found him as a pup and had taken him in. Apparently, they searched for another of his species, hoping to find a female, but couldn’t find even a sign of them. He didn’t mind, not in the slightest. So long as he could appreciate the beauty of his caretaker day after day, he was certainly happy. Of course, he would love to do more than just look at her, but he could wait. Luckily, though, it seemed he didn’t have to wait much longer from the conversation he’d overheard the night before.

The Research team that was tasked with replenishing extant species, particularly ones that they could not find viable mates, like Sasuke, had seemingly made a discovery.

‘We found something groundbreaking, Ma’am! It means that we can replenish the Silvertip Mers’ Species without needing a female Silvertip.’

‘Well, what are you waiting for, Shizune?! What did you find?’

‘It seems because Mers share nearly 50% of their DNA with humans, they can breed with Humans. Though that means it’s about a 50/50 chance if the offspring comes out as a Human or a Mer, though it seems it would be like any other Parent-to-Child Genetic Trait, one child could come out as Human but the next could be a Mer, it just depends on which DNA prevails.’

‘That’s perfect, Shizune. Now we just need to find a viable candidate. If the Silvertip mating process is anything like our other Shark Mer species, we should present multiple candidates and see if he takes a liking to any of them.’

‘Yes, Ma’am! I’ll start compiling a list right away!’

He smirked at the memory and swam to meet Y/n, his Minnow as he had donned her, at the edge of his tank. She pulled the separation closed for the evening as she entered.

“Good afternoon, Sasuke. How are you feeling today?” Y/n had her wonderful smile as she always did when she greeted him. Sasuke always liked to think that it was different from the smiles she would give to the other Mers she took care of.

“Spectacular now that you’re here,” He smirked up at her as she giggled at his flirting.

“Well, I am very happy to see you, too. I’m always glad that you’re my last stop of the day.” She smiled kindly at him and as much as he didn’t want to fully admit it, it made his heart skip a beat.

“Well, have you heard the news?” He had to stop himself from jumping on her that very moment as he spoke.

“Oh? What news, pray tell?”

“Seems they found a way to repopulate my species even though they couldn’t find a female.” A huge grin split across her face at the news and set the bucket of feed down beside her.

“Sasuke! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!!” She called, leaning down and hugging him around his shoulders.

“Believe me, not as happy as I am…” He smirked as he slid his hands around her frame to return the hug, though he made sure to place his hands down low enough to finger at the edges of her bikini bottom’s leg seams. She pulled back from the hug but his arms only shifted to stay resting around her hips. His fingers still lightly toyed with the seams and he was only spurred on by how she didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how are they gonna do it? Artificial Womb? Another species of Shark that’s compatible?” She questioned happily, innocently.

“They figured out that I can mate with and breed a human. So they’re finding me a suitable mate. It’s still a 50/50 chance, like most other kinds of genes, if it’ll be a Mer or a Human. At least that’s what they think. They don’t exactly have a bunch of research to go off of to see whose genes might be stronger. Yet, at least.” He chuckled at his implications that made her blush. “I imagine they’ll have plenty of research by the end of this, though, since as of right now, it’s my job to repopulate my whole species.” Even with his hope and excitement to finally have the opportunity to breed and possibly even claim the caretaker that he’d been watching and yearning for since day one, he let out a rueful chuckle at the reason he even had this responsibility in the first place.

The— rather oblivious— subject of his affections sent him a small, sad smile to soothe him and immediately her kindness brought him back. It reminded him why he liked her in the first place— other than her magnificent body that was practically on display for him day after day in her little swimsuits. He returned a cocky smile and leaned closer to her, his form leaned in enough that she was forced to open her legs to let him settle between them. She still didn’t seem to see anything off about the position even when Sasuke took a deep breath through his nose. He could smell her cunt so close to him and he felt the supple skin of her ass where his fingers dipped under her swimsuit.

He decided to be bold and flexed his fingers to gently knead at the flesh, wiggling his fingers deeper into her suit. Subconsciously, she moved her thighs to try and close around him, just a bit, but it was enough to spur him on.

“I have an idea of a good mate candidate, though. In fact, I’d rather like it to be her. Even if she’s not on the list, I might even request her.” He spoke with a sultry tone, lids hanging low as he let his gaze slide over her form, taking in the swell of her tits in the tight-fitting swim top, up her neck, lingering on the empty canvas of her shoulders and neck, lingering for only a moment on her lips, before meeting her eyes once again.

He was instantly taken aback by the look in her eyes. She tried to hide it but her eyes had always been unwittingly expressive. Especially to Sasuke, he could tell how she was feeling with but a glance even as she did her best to disguise it with a contrasting expression. Even with the happy smile she had on, her eyes shone with a quiet disappointment. Just moments before, before he let his gaze wander over her body, she was truly happy for him and the situation. Happy that he could rebuild his species and bring it back from the brink of extinction.

“What’s wrong, Minnow?” He asked gently, delicately rubbing his thumb over the space where her hips met her ass.

“What? Nothing! Don’t worry!” She tried to smile reassuringly but her eyes still gave her away.

“Minnow, don’t lie to me. You know that I know when you don’t tell me the truth.” His voice turned just the slightest bit stern, just to encourage her to tell the truth. And it worked, her fake smile dropped and she bit her lip nervously with a defeated sigh, averting her gaze to the edge of his tank that still had tooth-shaped dents from when he first arrived as a scared pup, nervous around humans.

“I… I dunno.. I guess I’m kinda.. I dunno, something about you liking someone…” She trailed off and muttered something under her breath that even he couldn’t catch with his impeccable hearing.

“What was that?” He leaned in, head slightly turned to bring his frilled ear closer to her.

“Someone… Someone else…” She muttered again, this time just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“That I like someone else? What do you mean, Minnow?” He had immediately put it together and figured out what she meant. Elation filled his entire being at the revelation that she liked him, too. But he absolutely could not pass up a chance to tease her. It was immediately rewarding when her face flushed with heat and her facial muscles tensed in a way that indicated just how embarrassed she was.

“I-I.. Well.. I mean… It’s just that… Uhm…” She stuttered out, not able to get a single coherent sentence out. If he hadn’t absolutely loved teasing her and flustering her beyond belief, Sasuke would have been pained by the awkward sight. Taking mercy on her when it started to seem like she’d rather be anywhere but there, he put a stop to her sputtering by pushing forward and silencing her with his lips on hers.

She was stunned and frozen, eyes wide and calculating. He pulled back and looked at her with an amused smirk, a brow quirked as if silently asking ‘Do you get it now?’ She remained frozen for a moment, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“I-I… What? But… what about who you li-?” He cut her off with a flick to the forehead and a scoff whilst she yelped at the sudden feeling.

“Dummy. I was talking about you.” Sasuke said with an eye roll, still quite amused at her oblivion. Her eyes widened with the revelation and lit up with joy. Before he could tease her again, she launched forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him into a deep kiss as she was too stunned to return the first one. With the sudden movement, Sasuke was forced to pull his hands away from her ass to stabilize them before she fell into his tank with the force that she shot forward. He wrapped a strong arm around her middle and grabbed onto the edge of the platform to hold them in place.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm and hummed against her lips as he hoisted her back onto the edge where she was sat. Eventually, she had to pull away for air but kept her arms around him and their foreheads nearly rested against each other.

“So… What do you say, Minnow?” He asked with a husky purr in his voice. Her eyes were glued to his lips, a haze around her mind after a kiss like that.

“Wha..?” He smirked teasingly at her and lifted his hand from around her to lightly grip her chin. Forcing her to look at him, she finally seemed to return to the moment, though she still looked vaguely confused.

“About the scientists’ little discovery?” He reminded her, his Minnow’s eyes lit up with recognition before her cheeks flushed with searing heat.

“I- uhm.. I really.. really like the sound of it…” Her blush somehow increased as her voice trailed off, though he heard her just fine. His sharp teeth peak out when he grins wolfishly at her.

“Well, then. Since I’ve already decided who I want my partner to be, might as well get started, right?” His words were husky with veiled excitement and sent a shiver down her spine, but she still managed to nod bashfully. She quickly glanced back at the separation to make sure it was closed before she carefully scooted towards the edge, making sure that she wouldn’t fall in. Willingly and consciously, she opened her legs even more, a clear invitation. Happy with her compliance, he hoisted himself up and slotted where his fleshy upper half met his scaly tail against her hips with his face just an inch or two above hers.

Without wasting a second, he dipped down to capture her lips again as he ground his genital slit against her awaiting, though clothed, sex. Shifting his weight onto one hand, he moved his other to the hem of her swimsuit bottoms just next to her wet pussy. His clawed fingers teased at the edge, never quite dipping in. He positioned his hand to fan his four fingers over the top of the inside of her thigh, his thumb at the hem. The tip of his finger, careful of his claw, lightly traced the sensitive skin just under it, teasing her even more. She whined into his mouth and just as he began the motion to give in and slide his thumb under the fabric and reach her weeping little cunt, the separation loudly slid open, announcing the arrival of someone else.

The two pulled apart in a panic, though the damage was already done. Whoever had walked in had caught them, though even if they hadn’t, the flushed faces and the way her thighs clamped together like a steel trap would have given them away.

“Well!” Tsunade declared with a single loud clap of her hands. “That makes things easier!” She approached the edge of the pool, pointedly ignoring that she had almost caught the two in the middle of his fingers buried in her cunt had she walked in even a minute later. “Sasuke, I have news for you. We found a way that you can-” She began, about to go on a long-winded speech about their discovery.

“Save my species. Yea. You and your assistant aren’t exactly the most quiet, y’know.” Sasuke cut her off and grumbled, clearly less than pleased that he had been interrupted. Tsunade looked surprised for only a moment before her mind caught up with the events. Sasuke knew about the discovery— that he could breed a human— and he had clearly chosen his future mate and he was ready to get started with the whole process. Perfect.

“Well! In that case, it would be in the best interest of the Research Team to watch you in the act, to help with future cases like this one, and to learn more about your species.” She explained, not leaving room for debate. Great. First, they got interrupted, now they have to wait for those Science Nerds to show up, and they’ll have an audience. Well, That last one Sasuke didn’t mind as much. He could show off that his little Minnow was his. They could watch as he bred her good and full, stuffing her with his cum and plugging her up with his knot to make sure that it took. To make sure that she’d be full with his offspring.

To his— and his Minnow’s— pleasure, it didn’t take too long for the rest of the Research Team to show up. At first, it made her flustered and shy but she was quickly distracted when Sasuke pulled himself back up between her thighs, level with her face.

“Don’t worry about them, ‘kay? Just focus on me. Focus on how I’m gonna breed you full…” His husky voice growled, nosing at the underside of her jaw. He nipped lightly at the skin there and reveled in the tremor it sent through her, even moreso the sweet gasped little moan she rewarded him with.

She nodded and turned her head towards him to recapture his lips. With a pleased rumble, he intertwined their tongues and nipped at her bottom lip with his sharp teeth. His Minnow hummed into the kiss and wrapped her legs around his hips. Gladly, he began grinding against her and appreciated the slickness that was dampening her swimsuit bottoms and soaking through onto his genital slit. They felt the eyes of the Research Team but chose to focus on each other instead. At least, she did. Sasuke kept an acute awareness of them watching them, watching him take what he wanted, what he had been wanting for months.

He reveled in her little moans that he captured with his lips, muffling her even more with his tongue invading further into her mouth. He shifted his weight onto one arm again and quickly moved back to the position he had been in when Tsunade walked in. His fingers toyed at the edge of her swimsuit then switched directions to rub his fingertips over the growing wet spot on the fabric, coating his fingers and claws in her slickness. He hummed against her neck and nibbled the skin to leave a mark on her skin. Gods, he wanted to mark her so badly. Wanted to claim her and make her his forever after but he supposed that would have to wait until after he bred her full.

That was a very efficient claim in its own right. Her moans flowed freely into the air as she tossed her head back and gave him more space to mark up and lave over with his long, rough tongue. He couldn’t wait anymore, he decided, and shifted his hand to the edge of her bottoms again, deftly wiggling under the seam and reaching her bare cunt. She let out a squeak at the sudden, though very much not unwelcome, intrusion, his fingers directly stimulating the sensitive skin.

“Sa-Sasuke…” She whimpered, suddenly aware of how empty she felt, her wet hole spasming around nothing.

“My good little Minnow…” He hummed and pressed kisses down the column of her throat until he reached the top of her translucent coverup. He quietly growled at the layer of separation and reluctantly pulled his hand away from her dripping cunt to rip through the thin material with his claws, eliciting a gasp from his girl. He didn’t pay attention to the little pout she sent him, though he did silently appreciate it, making a mental note to make her do it again.

Quickly enough, he hesitated for only a moment about tearing her bathing suit since it made her tits look so pretty. He compromised with himself to tug at the crisscross straps showing off her cleavage first, watching the way it shifted her breasts and made them jiggle when he released it. He tugged the fabric down over her tit slightly and shifted his hold to cup her breast and manually pull it out the rest of the way, seeing the way her nipple stiffened in the cold air. Only then, after appreciating the sight and locking it in place in his memory, did he hook his clawed finger into the strap once again and snapped it easily enough, letting it unravel until it hung loosely around her neck, the bottom half falling to the ground behind her back with her coverup top.

“Sasuke!” She yelped, “I could have just untied it you know!” She huffed, making him chuckle at her.

“But where’s the fun in that, Minnow?” He teased, cutting off any more complaints by dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth, swirling his long tongue around the hardened bud.

“Should we prompt him to get to the actual mating? Or-” A member of the Research Team spoke up, sounding flustered at just watching the foreplay.

“No. Let it happen naturally, we would only rush the process if it was detrimental to getting it done as quickly as possible. That would be more likely with a female specimen since most species’ females have only a short fertile period. Males are usually constantly fertile unless they lose potency with old age, but with Sasuke, we clearly don’t have to worry about that. Leave him be.” Shizune reprimanded him, cutting him off sharply and trying to keep her voice down to prevent disturbing Sasuke.

He appreciated the thought but couldn’t resist the eye roll at their discussion, talking like he wasn’t even actually there. He must have accidentally released an unconscious growl because his sweet little Minnow reached her arms up to hold him, tangling her fingers into his hair, encouraging him to switch his attention fully on her again. He sent a grateful look up to her and pressed a soft kiss to her breast before he lowered himself further into the water, moving his hands to hold both of her thighs.

At first, she was confused until he pushed her skirt further up to her hips and tugged at the waistband of her suit bottoms, generously offering her to not rip them to shreds. She let out a breathy chuckle and leaned back on her hands to lift her hips for him. Before he pulled them off, he pressed a kiss to her clothed core, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine. She whimpered when he pulled away, taking her bottoms with her, exposing her dripping cunt to the cold evening air.

He smirked at her reaction and didn’t give her time to readjust before he dove in and shoved his face between her thighs. He lapped at her cunt hungrily and sucked headily on her clit. Immediately, the sensations had her squirming and whining, her hands buried in his hair, unsure if she wanted to push him closer or tug him away from the immense pleasure almost immediately overwhelming her senses. Sasuke hummed appreciatively at the taste of his little Minnow. She really lived up to her name with the way he was devouring her. The slurping sounds resounded all around the shelter around his pool and filled the ears of his good little Minnow, Tsunade, Shizune, and the rest of the Research Team. Most of them shifted in their seats, unsure if they were aroused or envious. A mix of both, they decided.

Letting up on the suction on her clit, he dipped his head down to wiggle his tongue into her, squirming against all the sensitive spots in her cunt. He replaced the stimulation on her clit with his thumb, pressing on it and rubbing rough circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensations overwhelming her cunt before she could even adjust to the temperature had cries of pleasure soaring out of her throat into the air. When his tongue shifted in just the right way, in just the right spots and his thumb teasing her clit with just the right pressure, she couldn’t hold back the scream of ecstasy or the sharp tug of his long hair as she creamed around his tongue, her juices flowing into his mouth as he kept up his movements. He moaned against her and happily swallowed her liquid pleasure.

He kept lapping at her cunt until she was practically sobbing and pulling at his hair to escape the overstimulation. Granting her mercy, he finally pulled away and pressed an apologetic kiss to her inner thigh, though she could tell he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. She panted to regain her breath from the way her powerful orgasm pulled the air from her lungs. In a soothing motion, Sasuke gently pulled himself up and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, stroking over her thigh until she could breathe regularly again. Then, with a deep kiss full of tongue and teeth and passion, he slotted his hips against hers with his member free.

The slick appendage wiggled in the cool evening air in search of warmth to bury itself in. She hummed into his mouth when the narrowed tip stroked over her glistening pussy lips. She was still sensitive from the orgasm he’d wrenched from her but the want to be filled up overpowered the overwhelm of it. Sasuke smirked against her lips and separated their kiss with a trail down to her jaw, then to her neck, then to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The empty plot of skin was so tantalizing and his teeth ached with the want- the need to sink his teeth into her and fully claim her. Mark her as his.

That’ll have to wait, he reminded himself. Now’s not the time to focus on that. Now is the time to breed her greedy little pussy. Fill her up with pups and keep on filling her up, over and over again. She’s a good little girl, so eager for being knotted and bred. She’ll be an even better little mate, he encouraged himself in his mind to wait just a little longer. Just a bit longer and she’d be his good little mate. First, he had to thoroughly breed her tight little cunt. With that thought in mind, he pushed forward, pressing his length closer to her entrance. His long, slimy tongue laved over her skin as he nibbled and sucked on the skin to leave little marks that would satisfy his urge to claim her for now.

“Fu-u-uck, Sasuke..!” She called, circling her hips to try and coax his cock into her. When it didn’t work at first, she wrapped her legs around his form and pulled him closer, her one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other working with his to hold them steadily on the edge to not fall in. His other hand still kneaded at her thigh and precisely dug his thumb into the flesh to coax it more open to her pretty little pussy.

“Don’t worry, Minnow, I’ve got you.” He muttered against her flesh before he pulled back to rest his forehead against her shoulder to look down at where they would soon be connected. Looking past her tantalizing tits, he watched as his member squirmed against her, sliding through her folds in search of her greedy hole. Finally, it caught on the edge of the convulsing muscles and immediately began slithering in. The Research Team all jolted to lean forward when she sharply inhaled a gasp. The guy from before seemed the most interested. He was leaned forward the most and his gaze was heavy. The way he stared so intently made a fire burn in Sasuke. It was a mix of jealousy and pride, though it was more cockiness than pride, really.

It infuriated him that someone would look that intently at his mate, especially when she was so vulnerable. So exposed. His instincts yelled at him to cover her whole body with his own, even pull her into the water away from prying eyes but logic, thankfully, won out knowing that it would be dangerous as his little Minnow, despite her nickname couldn’t breathe underwater. Yet, he reminded himself, once she was good and full with his pups and claimed, her body would undergo changes to properly care for the pups for the chances that it was a mer. The cockiness reinforced his reasoning, as well. The cockiness that cried out in pride that she was his mate. That the bastard could look all he wanted but his good little Minnow was his to touch. His to hold. His to pleasure and enjoy.

Nonetheless, the mer lowly growled from where his head rested on his little mate’s shoulder, side-eyeing a glare at the man with a cocky smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth. The hand around his shoulders slid up to his hair and gently carded through it, soothing him back to the moment where he was about to fuck her senseless. Almost immediately, a low rumbling emanated from his chest, it was almost like a purr. With a shocked giggle bubbling from his Minnow’s throat, Sasuke quickly diverted her thoughts to her throbbing core once again when he quickly canted his hips into hers.

The gasp she let out was rewarding and had him rumbling deeply in satisfaction. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there for a moment to let her adjust. He knew he was larger than most human males— a fact that filled him with pride— and that his phallus was greatly different from them, shape, texture, and mobility-wise. His cock squirmed inside her, satisfied with the heat, and moved in search of her pleasure spots. His instincts led him to wanting to pleasure his partner just as much, if not more, than the pleasure he received. His instincts knew that if his partner orgasmed it heightened the chances of his seed taking. As if he needed any help. His species’ seed was very potent and his thick, firm knot would keep his mate plugged up to ensure that none of his seed leaked and lessened the chances of impregnation, even if only by a fraction. With the stream of sharp, almost surprised moans and gasps coming from his mate, he could tell his phallus was doing its job.

“F-fuck- Sasuke- Sasuke, please~!” She whined, burying her hand firmly in his locks, though not tugging. Her incoherent plea was enough for him to comply and rest enough weight on the hand planted on the firm round behind her to easily use his other hand, wrapped around her hip with a tight grip, to move his hips back. The water rippled behind him and splashed quickly up against the corner wall of his pool and hitting the backs of her thighs and the top of his tail as he snapped his hips forward again. He did this a few more times, slowly pulling out until only his wriggling tip stayed inside her wet heat and thrusting his hips forward quickly and powerfully. He tried to keep up the teasing pace but he couldn’t take it anymore.

He needed to breed her. Breed her tight little pussy. Fill her up with cum and make her belly swell with his young. With surprising speed, he set a bruising pace and filled her clenching walls with his wriggling cock over and over again. He could hear the Research Team mumbling amongst themselves, comparing notes or some shit that he couldn’t bring himself to care about but the noise itself was enough to ignite his possessiveness. The hand planted on the ground clenched and scratched at the cement. His sharp claws dug into the hard surface and scraped deep lines into it, taking the rubble with it. His other hand gripped tighter and ended up ripping her skirt where it rested around her hips. He paid little mind to it— as did his good girl— and simply kept up with his pace, though he vaguely recognized that the material was essentially unsalvageable with tearing it so much whilst it was bunched up the way it was. With a growl and a fire lit in his eyes, he smashed his lips against his Minnow’s and claimed her mouth all over again. His tongue delved deep enough to almost choke her. She didn’t gag but her throat lightly convulsed against the foreign feeling before he pulled the appendage back. He only wanted it to be pleasurable for her. No discomfort.

His hips kept up the heavy pace as he buried himself to the hilt again and again. Pulling back from her lips, a thick strand of saliva kept them connected before he leaned back in and licked it away from her kiss-swollen bottom lip. As if on pure instinct, he immediately shifted to her neck and left bites and hickeys on the side he hadn’t yet marked up. All the while, he never relented on his pace, water splashing around him and creating small waves into the rest of the vast water at his back. His member continued to squirm inside her, aiming for each and every one of her pleasure spots and slipping easily into all the nooks and crannies of her inner velvety walls.

Her voice trembled as she cried out in pleasure and shifted her hips to meet his thrusts, subsequently forcing his cock deeper inside her. The pointed tip was forced all the way to her cervix. The wriggling pointed head met her cervix directly, immediately beginning a venture to enter the deepest part of her. Sasuke and Y/n both let out groans of pleasure at the feeling, hers more a surprised noise quickly transformed into a drawn-out whine of bliss while his was one of pure ecstasy at the feeling of claiming his Minnow so deeply. So deep inside her that no one would ever be able to claim her as he had. Not that anyone else would ever get the opportunity to try. No, she was his mate. And he would ensure that her body knew that by thoroughly breeding her over and over again. She would not be without pup for long, breeding her to her heart’s content.

Without much reprieve, Sasuke returned to his brutal pace, jackhammering his hips into hers as he buried his face in her neck. His claws dug heavily into the pavement, cracking it even more with his strength and his other hand kept a bruising grip on her hip, not that she minded the marks it would leave behind. His marks. Her walls fluttered around his cock as he mercilessly pounded into her. Her moans echoed around the walls and went higher in pitch when the cord in her belly was pulled taut again.

“Sasuke- Fuck- Please!” She whined and bucked her hips. The Research Team, from their positions leaning forward to see the pair better, could see his muscles contracting and his hands gripped tighter— though he remained aware and careful with his hold on her flesh. They could tell he was rapidly approaching his climax and they were all on the edge of their seats— literally and figuratively— to see it. His thrusts slowly became sloppier and his grunts and growls became more frequent, his nips at her neck did, too.

What the scientists couldn’t see and his little Minnow hadn’t noticed was the swelling bulge at the base of his wriggling cock. It was stiffer than the rest of his member and steadily grew in size and mass. As his thrusts gained more reckless force and speed it began to catch on the edge of her hole. That made her notice. When she felt the bulging knot catch on her hole a louder moan ripped from her throat. The wide eyes of the Research Team snapped to her and watched her come undone. Her back arched, her toes curled, her nails dug into his shoulder and scratched angsty red lines into the skin, her mouth hung open in a silent scream as she gushed around his member. The convulsing and contracting of her walls around him had Sasuke closer to his own end.

His knot swelled to full size and with a final rough thrust, it pressed hard against her gushing little cunt before it popped inside her. Another wave of ecstasy rushed through her and sent her into another wave of orgasm before her last one even finished. A loud, high-pitched cry escaped into the room and practically vibrated the walls. Her orgasm’s ecstasy lasted for what felt like forever as his white hot seed shot into her. His narrow tip had wiggled past her cervix and sent his cum directly into her womb. His potent seed filled her up and filled her lower belly with delicious warmth that kept her in a state of blissed-out pleasure. She shivered in her fucked out haze as Sasuke filled her up with spurt after spurt of spunk.

“You did so good, Minnow. My good girl, took my cum so fuckin’ well. Gonna be such a good momma.” He purred in her ear, licking the spot just under it.

“Is it done? Did he do it?” The guy spoke lowly to the rest of the Research Team and Y/n and Sasuke barely resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say yes.” Tsunade said sarcastically. Sasuke licked at the bites and dark hickeys on his Minnow’s neck and shoulder to soothe any aches and to help the deeper ones heal faster. His member pulsated inside her as he recovered from his powerful orgasm. He had touched himself before to the thought of her but he never could have anticipated just how good she felt around him. He felt like he was in Heaven with her so tightly wrapped around him. Her heat clenching around his cock so snugly.

In the afterglow of their orgasms, Sasuke felt his arm getting tired from holding himself up and his tail aching from exhaustion from thrusting inside his little mate while keeping himself from falling back into the pool. Carefully, he maneuvered her in his hold to gently pull her into the water with him, though making sure they didn’t go under. Her grip on him tightened and her other arm shot to wrap around his shoulders making him chuckle. The deep sound sent a shiver down her spine and a blush to her cheeks as well as a vibration through her body from where their chests were pressed together. As an afterthought, Sasuke quickly discarded the ruined fabric of her skirt to the edge of the tank before he continued on with his movements with her.

“Don’t worry, Minnow.” He cooed to her as he moved to float on the water with her on his chest, slightly swishing his tail to keep them afloat. “I won’t let you fall in. Promise.” He nosed at her temple and pressed a kiss there.

“How do you feel?” Tsunade asked, addressing his little Mate.

“Full. Warm.” She spoke dazedly, snuggling into his chest comfortably.

“Good. From the looks of it, you should be pregnant in no time. We’ll monitor your progress and stats to make sure everything is all good and we’ll set up on-site lodgings for you. Let us know as soon as you find out when you’re pregnant. Since we observed this time, we technically don’t have to observe more of the breeding and mating but if it didn’t take this time, I’d like to observe your next session just to see if there are any differences, if that's okay with you. And, I’d like to ask, is there anything that we didn’t see that happened?” Tsunade inquired, eyes flicking between the couple and her notepad.

“Well.. Right now, we’re stuck.” Sasuke’s little Mate spoke softly, almost unsure.

“‘Stuck’? What do you mean?” Shizune asked, incredibly intrigued.

“I knotted her. We’re tied together until it goes down.” Sasuke spoke up, his voice slightly annoyed like he wanted this to be over and to have time alone with his good little Minnow.

“So you’re species has a knot! Interesting!” She spoke excitedly and quickly scribbled it down in her notepad. Sasuke huffed and nuzzled into his Mate’s hair and inhaled her scent. Her scent, enhanced by the vigorous physical activity and it sent a fuzzy pleasurable haze to his brain that had his chest rumbling with a purr.

“Well, I don’t believe there’s anything else we need to observe, so let’s all head out and leave the couple be. And yes, that means everyone.” Tsunade spoke, adding sharply at the end as her harsh gaze landed on the guy that had been far too invested with the view. Sasuke, glad that the woman had realized their want for privacy, let out a small, quiet sigh of relief and watched them all file out. He glared and bared his teeth at the guy who insisted on leaving last and walked slowly to glance back at them. When he saw the Mer’s expression, he quickly filed out with the others. The raven-haired Mer stroked over his Mate’s bare back and soothed her hip where his grip had surely planted bruises.

“Gonna be such a good momma to our pups. Such a good mate. So so good.” He cooed at her and planted kisses on her face before landing on her lips. It was sweet compared to the rough, lustful, and debauched kisses from not long ago. His cock remained buried inside her with his knot plugging her up to keep his hot cum, his potent seed inside, to make sure she was properly and thoroughly bred. She hummed happily against his lips and relaxed against him as he slowly guided them to the small island trainers coaxed him onto during shows where they could simply rest.

Once they were settled, it didn’t take long for them to drift off, pleasurable heat warming them both and lulling them into a comfortable state. His knot remained full whilst they drifted and stayed as such for a while after they fell asleep. His member easily slipped out of her and back into his sheath once his knot softened enough. They stayed comfortably cuddled together until morning when the sound of the separation sliding open echoed in the otherwise silent area. In walked Shizune with a towel, clothes, and a kind smile as she approached the edge of the pool.

“Good morning. I know your clothes were, unfortunately, damaged,” she sent a teasing look at Sasuke who blushed and looked away with a small ‘hmph’, “so I thought I’d bring you a change of clothes. I’d also like to give you a small physical check-up after last night to make sure everything is all good and dandy. Afterwards, I have breakfast inside for you.” The kind woman spoke gently with a soft gaze.

“Oh, thank you, Miss Shizune! I really appreciate it.” Y/n smiled at her and looked back at Sasuke to silently communicate if it was okay for her to leave for a bit. He wasn’t quite pleased with it but he knew it was more than reasonable. To show his understanding he leaned up and captured her lips sweetly as his hands softly ran over the skin of her back and sides. Carefully, she lifted herself off of him, slightly wincing at the soreness in her hips and between her thighs. Instantly, he moved and held onto her firmly as he maneuvered them both further into the water to swim her back to the edge. Kissing him in silent thanks, she climbed out and accepted the towel with a smile at Shizune.

“See you in a bit, Minnow,” Sasuke said, he rested his chin on his crossed arm on the edge and looked up at her, admiring the view of her naked body. He was so used to staring at her in her cute little swimsuits and just imagining what she would look like without the coverage and actually seeing it was so much better than anything he could have imagined. The planes and curves of her body were so enticing that he knew he would never get tired of seeing her bare like that. Seeing her stomach as she dropped the towel to put on the clothes Shizune brought, he couldn’t wait to see it swell his child, to have physical evidence that she’s his.

“See you soon, love.” She cooed back at him as she pulled the shirt over her head after she buttoned the skirt closed. His whole face perked up at the nickname and he couldn’t stop the purr that erupted from his chest. Chuckling, she kneeled down and pressed a kiss to his forehead before she stood to leave.

Exiting the shelter, she saw that the separation to the Aquatic Water Serpents was open while the morning crew did their rounds and fed the Mers, and performed check-ups if necessary. The younglings were occupied with the feeders and if any of them needed check-ups while Iruka was freely resting in the tank. When he saw her and Shizune passing by he quickly made his way to the edge to get to them.

“Hey.” He got their attention with a hiss, though remained quiet enough to not attract the attention of the younglings, “You’re lucky the younglings were already asleep down in the cove with how loud you were being.” He hissed out with a slight glare with no real heat behind it. Instantly, her face erupted with heat as her eyes widened in mortification. With a shrill whine of embarrassment, she buried her face in her hand with a muffled apology to the serpent. With Sasuke’s separation left open for the morning crew, he heard Iruka’s words and smirked. He was suddenly smug like he had never been before. A cockiness filled his chest as he reveled in the knowledge that he had made his Mate feel so good that she was loud enough to be heard through the walls. Instantly, he made the decision to ensure that he always made her feel that good.

He’d have her screaming his name every time.

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog @hellsingalucard18

[natailiatulls07]

grid’s reaction to driver reader giving them a hug or them hugging her ?

Hugs all around

Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - How does the drivers react to you hugging them

Warning - FLUFF

A/n - 😚😚😚

-

- Okay imagine this

- You’re in your drivers room after free practice one

- And you are just mindlessly scrolling through TikTok

- Until!

- You come across a TikTok of this girl

- She’s hugging her siblings and seeing how they react

- You immediately get the idea to do it with the drivers

- Planning that you were slightly upset with something and ask them to hug it better

- First victim: Daniel Ricciardo

- He immediately recognised the upset mood

- And crushed you into one of his big bear hugs, like the ones gave everyone Abu Dhabi 2022

- “Aww what’s up?”

- Second victim: Charles Leclerc

- This Ferrari was hard to track down but you found him in the media tent

- You sneak up on him

- Fully aware of all the cameras set up around the tent

- Hugging him behind

- He jumps before turning to discover you looking upset and hugging him

- “Oh hey, everything alright?”

- You nod your head and deepen the hug

- He actually gives surprisingly good hugs

- After a few seconds, you both come back o your senses and finish the hug

- Deciding to not tell Charles, you leave

- Third victim: Lewis Hamilton

- So when you joined the formula one grid, you looked up to Hamilton and you still do

- But you were never confident enough to even talk to him

- He was this god of the sport and you were just a rookie

- Until during a media press conference we were paired together with Lando who was late

- And he made conversation with you

- “Hey, Y/n right?”

- “Oh yeah, hi it’s so nice to meet you”

- Since that press conference Lewis sort of became like a fatherly figure to you in the sport

- So when he opened his drivers room door to find you looking ‘upset’

- He became very very concerned

- “Y/n hey what’s going on?”

- Having not thought of a backstory, you just asked for a hug which happily accepted

- Rubbing your back

- You two just stood there hugging for about five minutes before you quickly nodded your head and said thank you

- “It’s okay, don’t worry”

- “Hey Y/n, next time just come straight to me we’ll watch that show you were talking about”

- Fourth and final victim: Lando Norris

- He is soo cuddly!!

- You had texted him but without your usual energy

- He noticed IMMEDIATELY

- Two minutes later there’s a knock at your drivers room door

- Your drivers room is on the different side of the paddock to the McLaren garage!

- “Let me in. Now.”

- Making sure to put on that upset face before opening the door

- He has the most concerned face imaginable

- “What’s wrong?”

- You panic, you have no backstory

- “Can I just have a hug?”

- Great save!!

- Immediately Lando crashes you into the most bone crushing hug ever!

- His hand smooths up and down your back

- In that moment, you decide that if you were ever actually upset Lando is the best person to go to

- “Thank you Lan”

- “Anytime. You know that I care for you always.”

-

[dykedvonte]

You ever just see a Mouthwashing take that makes you want to bang your head into a wall? I literally just saw someone claim Curly couldn't have been emotionally abused by Jimmy before the crash because he was in a higher position of power than Jimmy.

-Shrimp Anon

The mouthwashing fandom has shown me that people genuinely do believe that certain types of abuse are not as detrimental as other types especially when they deem those immune/resistant, ergo, believing one is objectively worse no matter how it affects the person nor the intersections of power, history and dynamics at play.

Get ready cause this is a yap session:

Cause like it's heavily implied that Curly and Jimmy's friendship was toxic and abusive, pointedly in the direction of how Jimmy uses Curly's belief/comfort in him. Curly wasn't forced to enable Jimmy but he was emotional and mentally on edge around him in almost every scene in some way. Mental and emotional abuse are not contingent on what positions you have at work. Yeah, he's Jimmy's boss but he was Jimmy's friend first and it's like getting into Psych discussion to talk about how social power tends to overshadow any perceived organizational power in the human mind. People are concerned about their jobs ofc but they tend to hang onto and put more value/investment into their personal relationships, hence why there tends to be laws and restrictions around mixing the two.

I always see the sentiments that "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" as criticisms of Curly and while I do agree that on the surface level all of these to be true and viable ways Curly could've taken more control of the situation, I often look at the parallels of Anya and Curly as victims of Jimmy pre/post crash.

The way Jimmy talks to Anya post crash is how he talked to Curly in the pre-crash segments. It's hard to pin-point mainly because we know he hates and wants nothing to do with Anya compared to his contrary but similarly handled obsessions with Curly. It's a weird sort of "honey-moon" effect of abuse Jimmy does in terms of emotional and mental victimization. He is always horrid to Anya, always talking down or questioning her abilities and thoughts in a situation, this of course includes the harassment and assault. However, he has a moment of attempted gentleness/conditioning when he question her about the mouthwash when she's contemplating drinking it at the table. The key difference is he has no personal investment in Jimmy outside wanting nothing to do with him, meaning there is no sort of romanticized version of him that he can condition her off of. He knows this, hence, why he always reverts to trying to make her to scared to oppose him.

This sort of give and take of "kindness" doesn't work on her because she knows he is just doing it to take more from her than whatever he could possibly give but it reflects even the "softer" scenes between him and Curly where he always rewords or rephrases Curly's sentiments and concerns to sound more shallow. He is feigning a deeper understanding by reworking Curly's emotions into something bad and needing to be hidden. Everything is laced with envy and resentment, an outburst just around the corner, I mean he even slams the table in the birthday party scene, a tactic in emotional manipulation to set the victim on edge and cloud their ability to respond. Even if Curly knows Jimmy won't get physical in that moment, the physical actions is intended to make him back down in the confrontation in case it does. This is something that is just not person specific. It ingrains itself into how you interact with the world and life and it shows in major and minor ways with Curly.

Post-crash, the abusive nature is more in tandem to the physical victimization Anya went through and the stripping of voice and autonomy we see take place. Like the parasite in HFIM, Jimmy speaks for Curly most of the time and puts words in his mouth, similarly to how he takes Anya's plans as his own. He very commonly, with the both of them mind you, supplements the worst aspects of himself into them; pettiness, selfishness, lack of understanding... And tries to cover himself with their best qualities; kindness, planning, initiative, etc...

These parallel are just to say that positional power has little to do with if a person can be abused and how it can even be flipped to further the abuse. There is no doubt that Curly could've picked up on Jimmy's envy of his position hence another reason he never confronted him as a Captain but as a friend as doing so would immediately put Jimmy in a space to be confrontational/combative.

I think the disdain some people have when they talk about the heavily implied if not implicitly stated emotional/mental abuse Curly experienced being Jimmy's friend is when treating it as an excuse to why he didn't do more. I can understand that completely because it is not an excuse to why he didn't do more but is a very real reason people in his position in these scenarios can experience whether in the context of a work or social environment. However, I also think the way people talk about it really does demonstrate a bigger problem when talking about abuse when somehow who is/was abused is either part of the issue or enabled it.

Harkening back to the sentiments about Curly's inaction regarding Jimmy, I think the exact phrases I used/have seen show how there is an inherent belief that it is easier to overpower the effects of emotional/mental abuse that go in tandem with the perception of Curly as someone who should be able to. There is not an age you suddenly stop being susceptible to abuse nor a set point or low where you realize how it has affected you. You don't suddenly know to stand up or put a face on to face your abuser nor admit that you inadvertently enabled them to subjugate someone else to the same treatment. Maybe it's my psych brain but their is this growing belief that direct action is somehow easy or always the best method with the game shows you instances where it is not always the case. In real life that rings true too. He should have done more, but it's not impossible to see why he struggled to find a way or didn't even if it makes us mad.

It's not easy to suddenly gain a "back-bone". You don't immediately want to resort to aggression, especially if it mirrors the type you were a victim to. You don't want to believe you allowed yourself to be treated this bad, let it get that bad or allowed something bad to happen to someone else. It is easy to be in denial, to retreat to your thoughts or make excuses to avoid the painful truth. It's frustrating but in a way we know is relatable. It why we both hate and love Curly for it. We know we'd be better, we think we'd be better, we like to think we wouldn't falter in the same ways but it's always easier to say that from the outside looking in. It's easy to see what he was doing wrong because we are seeing it, not him, but the game really does make you picture what you would do if this was your raw reality and it's why this debate about Curly seems so never ending/contradictory. We can all say what we'd do but bottom line is that's much different when you're in the moment with all the emotions and human feelings attached.

I personally think Mouthwashing tackles the themes of rape culture, enabling, toxic masculinity, types of abuse and patriarchy in ways that are meant to deconstruct the typical straightforward views we mostly have of these concepts and how little subtilities of them are just as, if not more, detrimental than the overt/obvious parts. The game deals with the idea of little details and bigger picture in a way to show that sometimes the bigger picture is not the issue but the little details that make it up. It's why I have a personal dislike of depictions of Jimmy as the typical horrible person who would of course do something like this because the game is about noticing the little warning signs, the foreshadowing and foresight.

It's why I dislike the typical discussion of "bro code" and "boys will be boys" for the game because the game makes a point to avoid the standard depictions of such. It is about the type of men who still enable despite not condoning, agreeing or even perpetuating harmful beliefs because they can't see the little details or the ways it seeps into their everyday. The severity is not obvious to them as it was not obvious to Curly, Swansea or even Daisuke the way it was to a woman like Anya. There are little details about Jimmy that should ring alarms but if you are too naive like Daisuke, too distant like Swansea or too conditioned like Curly, they are just off markers.

There is 100% more constructive/concise ways to say "Curly was a victim of Jimmy's abuse on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario" while also critiquing on the side of "Curly still had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed to do due to biases and stigma's he failed to surpass" without the weird condemnation people give him about should've knowing better than to let himself be manipulated by a person he considered a close, if not family/best-friend and had his own reasons to trust initially. Also stop being weird about victims of abuse in general with this fandom, like sorry not everyone has a like social epiphany the moment someone's nasty to them. People are treating it like you immediately know when you are in a toxic relationship immediately or comprehend when a person is actively dangerous and either it's your fault for not knowing how to leave/cut them off or you deserve it. Like the hypocrisy of people believing how certain fans treat the story reflect their irl views but not their own is crazy.

End statement is: I honestly don't even know man, I've been writing this too long and just like no man on that ship was perfect or really helped Anya when it mattered and I feel like pitting them against each other in discussion on who did the least or most or how it was justified sucks cause in the end Anya always did the most and best thing for herself.

[multific]

The Confession Killer

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: torture, blood, violence, kidnapping

Summary: They called him, 'The Confession Killer', but to you, he was nothing but an unsub, another man who needed to be caught. But the sudden knock on your door one late evening will change your entire life.

"The unsub we are looking for is a white male 30-35. A sadistic narcissist who tortures his victims both emotionally and physically." Morgan began to give the profile to the members of the Austin Police Department.

"He makes them call up their husbands, boyfriends or even their fathers so they can confess their love before killing them. We believe he is doing this due to a rejection. His ego can't move forward, so he takes it out on women who look like the woman who rejected him. Given the time of deaths and kidnappings, we can assume that he works at a gas station or supermarket. He kidnaps them at night and then locks them up, then the next evening he makes them call and by the next morning, he kills them. This unsub hates women with a passion, and often he can't mask the hate." you continued as everyone took notes.

"Look for men who are keeping to themselves, if you talk to their coworkers they will tell you that he sometimes has outbursts at women for apparently no or very little reason. He most likely has a hidden house far from where he lives." Finally, Hotch finished and everyone went off to work.

Soon you all finished for the day and headed to the hotel. You ordered some food to your room as you continued to work.

You continued to listen to the last victim's call to her father. Even if Penelope did analyze it already, you wanted to go over everything. 

Then, there was a knock on your door.

"I didn't order anything," you said but they knocked again, you stood up and headed to open the door and tell the person to just leave you alone. 

The door flung open and all you saw was the tall man before he hit you on the head and you blacked out. 

The next morning, everyone found it interesting when you didn't show up but they didn't question it too much. Even Hotch knew that sometimes you needed to be left alone. Sometimes you come up with the most brilliant ideas that way. 

But when you didn't even call by the late afternoon, everyone grew suspicious.

Then, Spencer got a call. He barged into the room where everyone was and put it on speaker.

"S-Spencer, I'm so sorry." you sounded so desperate, everyone knew this was bad. Very bad. You cried and there was a loud bang, it made everyone jump a little before you continued.

Morgan quickly dialled Garcia so she could track the call.

"I should have told you this sooner. I should have been brave but I'm a coward. Truth is I have always loved you. Every time someone asks you to stop rambling, I just want to ask you to continue. Every day I just want to tell you that I love you but I'm a coward. I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner." there was a pause as you cried, everyone felt their stomach drop. "I do love you, Spencer Reid." you whispered the last part before the line was cut off.

"Garcia?!" yelled Hotch. 

"Sir... I lost it." 

"This is not good, we all know he kills them after the confession," said Rossi.

"Rossi," David looked at Hotch who had a stern expression and motioned to Spencer. 

Spencer's mind was visibly running at a speed and yet, his mind was blank.

He knew your words were true, he noticed the way you looked at him.

He needed to find you.

"Guys, I think I have something." Hotch barged into the room. "The victims never used the word coward before. This must mean something."

Then as if a lightbulb was turned on, Spencer understood. 

---

You sobbed as you looked up at the man keeping you hostage. 

He then threw you back into the closet he kept you in and locked it before heading upstairs.

"Whore." you heard him say before he left.

You were in complete darkness. He kept you locked and only came down to occasionally torture you.

Small cuts now adored your arms and thighs.

He called you Clara. The woman that hurt him, and now because of what happened with him, he was taking it out on you and other women. 

You knew his MO. You knew you didn't have long. 

Now you just hoped at least one member of your team understood your secret message before it was too late for you.

At least you told Spencer how you felt.

That was something.

Even if you were crying and sobbing while doing so.

The door slammed open as you heard footsteps. Your tears began to fall once again as he dragged you out of the closet and upstairs by your hair.

"You are all the same." he said. "Fucking WHORE!" he said as you lay on the floor, he was above you with a huge knife.

This was it, you thought as you cried.

This was your end.

You shut your eyes and awaited death.

"FBI! Put the knife down!" you heard Derek's voice but you were too scared to open your eyes, then you heard a gunshot and then, silence.

Silence until Derek came, picked you up from the floor and you finally opened your eyes.

He had officers behind him as he carried you out of the cottage.

You caught a glimpse of Emily as you were taken to the ambulance.

The next thing you knew, you woke up in a hospital bed.

Everything hurt, but at least you were not in there anymore.

To your left, Spencer was reading in a chair.

"For a second, I was scared I would wake up in that closet." you said and Spencer shot up, going over to you and holding your hand. "It was so dark in there."

"It's over now. You are safe." he said and you believed him.

"I knew someone would understand my message."

"You are safe now." he said and you nodded.

"You know Spencer, I didn't lie. My confession. I really do have feelings for you." you avoided looking at him, you were scared of rejection.

"I-I know that you were serious. Your tone and... sorry. I'm rambling. I'm trying to say that I also have feelings for you." this time, you looked at him.

Both of you were rather embarrassed, but the feelings were there and were real. 

All you could see was love. Pure love mixed with desperation.

"Kiss me please." you said, easing his desperation. 

He sat down on the bed next to you.

At first, he was awkward, not sure where to put his hands, or what to do, but then, he eased up and after a big sigh, his lips found yours.

You let him take the lead, even if he was a bit hesitant and careful, he found his rhythm.

He was so sweet. 

You were sure he ate some candy not long ago, but he was also perfect.

His lips moulded with yours so easily. 

It was meant to be. Even if he was rather hesitant in the beginning, he started to get bolder by the second.

He pulled away way too soon, but you might have just scared him when you started to use some tongue. He pulled back but didn't go too far, your hand was still on the back of his neck. 

"We should go on a date." he suddenly said. Then he started to ramble on and on about perfect dates, perfect places to go to and more and more and more.

"Spencer, some dinner and drinks will be perfect." you tried to help but then he started to think about different restaurants. "Let's do some Italian," you said, again, helping him.

"I know the perfect place." he said and you smiled. "How silly of me, you should heal."

"Then you can come over and we can order something," you said and he quickly nodded.

Who could have thought that you getting kidnapped and tortured would turn out so well? 

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[stayevildarling]

Olivia Benson x Reader- In Uniform

A/N: I saw this tiktok earlier and felt the urge to write Olivia smut so here we are🥲🤍

tw/tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, female reader, olivia recieving (oral, fingers), reader recieving (oral, fingers), mommy kink, authorative kink, mention of strap-on

word count: 2.2k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay, @blu3dimples

The precinct banquet hall was filled with people, conversations lingering in the air as well as the sound of glasses clinking. You stand at your table, surrounded by familiar faces, detectives from your division, your bosses and other departments. But your attention lingers on one person only, your girlfriend Olivia, standing with her colleagues from the Special Victims Unit before she takes the stage.

She is dressed in her ceremonial captains uniform and you can‘t keep your eyes off her tie, her dark hair neatly put up and the several medals shining on her chest. Her presence is commanding as well as authorative. You watch as she steps on the stage, her calm and powerful voice delivering a speech like she usually would, her eyes occasionally flickering across the room. Yet, you couldn‘t hear a single word, the way her glasses are perched up her nose and the way her uniform suits her so well, taking your breath away.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, heat travelling from your stomach in between your legs as you press your thighs together. When her eyes meet yours for a second, your breath hitches and heart stops in your chest as you have to supress the things going on in your mind.

The sound of applause after she finishes her speech pulls you back to reality for a moment as you force a smile and applaude, watching as she joins the others again and begins light conversation. You tried your hardest to keep up with what you are supposed to do tonight, keep up small talk and talk about your division, the one you had transfered to once things between you and Liv became serious .

As soon as the event begins winding down, you slip away from the others, finding Olivia‘s office as you noticed her slipping away a while ago, knowing she was bound to catch up on some work as she always does. As you step into your old unit you feel nostalgic before seeing her through the windows of her office, leaning back in her chair as she reads over notes, glasses perched on her nose the same way she had while giving her speech. Your stomach flips as you see the top button of her uniform unbuttoned and as she looks up, eyebrows raised in surprise, you feel like falling to your knees right there.

„Hi love, what are you doing here?“ she asks gently as she sets the notepad down, tilting her head a little to get a better glimpse at you. She watches in surpise as you close the door behind you, the lock clicking shut with a subtle sound before you walk over to the blinds and roll them down, giving you both the complete privacy of her office.

„Everything alright?“ she asks as her eyebrows furrow before you turn to face her. „Yeah“ you nod, thoughts trailing off as you take another glimpse at your girlfriend, feeling like you might burst any second from how insanely beautiful and attractive she looks. „Don‘t you wanna celebrate out there?“ she asks curiously as she studies your features carefully. It takes a second for you to reply as you stand almost frozen in your spot „I couldn‘t stay out there Liv“ you admit, causing her eyebrows to furrow in concern as she still hasn‘t gotten the hints yet.

„Why not sweetheart?“ she asks gently before you clear your throat „Not after watching you all night“ you murmur, barely audible as her eyebrows perk up in surprise. „Watching me?“ she asks curiously as you sigh in frustration, holding back the urge to stomp your foot too. „God Liv, I have watched you take the stage with that uniform, demanding everyones attention and I can‘t- I just wanna“ you stop yourself, usually not the one to be this direct as you are usually more subltle and shy about things. But when she looks at you with a slight smirk, understanding now, you can‘t help yourelf.

„What is it sweetie?“ she asks curiously as your eyes lock with her own. „I couldn‘t stop thinking about how badly I wanted to tear this uniform from you“ you admit, watching as her eyes widen in surprise. She was surprised at your sudden boldness but she can‘t hide the smirk that follows, liking this side of you more than she is letting on. „You usually have a little more restraint than that baby“ she teases which causes you to chuckle „Not tonight, not with you looking like.. that“ you admit, eyes trailing down your girlfriend. „Liv you are driving me crazy“ you admit before she chuckles, setting her glasses down, voice lower than before as she moves her chair back „Why don‘t you show me how?“ she asks, finally giving in with a deliberate smile.

You waste no time making your way over, glancing at your girlfriend before getting on your knees, the surprise evident in the older womans features as she locks eyes with you. The image of you kneeling for her turns her on more than she is letting on, let alone to mention how absolutely stunning you look tonight. You begin slow despite the urgency you are feeling, slipping off her shoes first before fiddling with the hem of her trousers. „Not so fast sweetie“ she chuckles before she pulls you up by your collar, making your body collapse into her lap. She pulls you in for a kiss, slow, deliberate but as her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, you can feel her urgency.

With gentle movements you fiddle with her tie, pulling at it a little to move her forward as you trail kisses down her neck, sucking at her sensitive points causing the occasional moan to slip from her lips. Once you have the brunette worked up enough, you drop onto your knees again, subtly pulling her trousers and underwear down and she almost immediately spreads her legs for you, allowing your eyes to meet with her glistening core. „Liv“ you whisper as your hands caress her thighs, travelling down her legs as you place kisses between them, travelling closer and closer to where she needs you.

„Y/N“ your name falls from her lips so casually as she leans her head back, eyes closing as your mouth ghosts over her throbbing center and without warning you begin licking through her folds, collecting her sweet juices on your tongue, the taste driving you crazy as her hands find your hair, pulling and at the same time pushing you deeper into her. The taste is intoxicating, better than you could have anticipated the entire night, watching her and these scenes replaying in your mind. But nothing could have prepared you for this view, head thrown back in pleasure, hardened nipples peaking through her white shirt.

„Sweetie just like that“ she whispers, small whimpers falling from her lips as you begin sucking her clit faster, occasionally travelling lower and entering her, taking turns as you know it drives her crazy. It doesn‘t take long before the grip on your hair gets tighter, her hips pushing into you more as she needs to feel you. You are quick to take the hint, meeting her eyes now as you silently ask for permission, something the both of you cherished and would always do, despite the urgency. She nods with a smile before two fingers enter her, slowly and gently at first to adjust. Once her eyes close and head throws back in pleasure, you pick up the pace, mouth locked onto her clit as you suck her juices, making popping sounds as you occasionally let go of it, your fingers pumping in and out of your girlfriend as her legs begin shaking.

„God.. baby.. please don‘t stop“ she begs and there is something about the way you are having her right now, on your knees, Liv begging for you to make her cum as you are knuckles deep inside her, tongue licking rushed circles around her clit. When her thighs begin trembling, hips pushing further into you and back arching on the chair, you can tell. And by the time her desperate eyes meet you, you use the last of your strength to fasten your pace, fingers moving fast in and out of her before you feel her juices coating you seconds later. She refrains herself from screaming, knowing where you both are, biting down her moans as she slowly comes down from her high. Her chest heaves, breaths coming uneven as you slowly adjust the pace and let her ride it out, your tongue travelling lower and collecting her cum before you slowly stop, letting her adjust and find her breathing again.

Once her eyes opens and find yours, you blush under her intense gaze, seeing her chest heave still as she pulls you up onto her lap, and you gasp at the sudden change in position. Her lips find yours, tasting herself on you as her tongue enters your mouth, fighting for dominance as she was usually always the one in control and on top. „Was that what you wanted all night sweet girl?“ she whispers in your ear and you nod into her, suddenly feeling your confidence wavering, despite having succeeded. „Let me return the favor“ she moans into you as she pushes you both forward with her chair, your back gently hitting the back of her desk as she stands, holding you in her strong arms before sending the contents of her desk flying, laying you down gently before standing and hovering above you.

She takes her sweet time, undressing each part of you slowly as she admires every inch of your body, mouth trailing kisses down your body as your moans errupt her office. You can‘t help but look into her eyes, pupils blown as your eyes trail off, looking at her tie and how messy her hair is. You are so caught up in it that you don‘t realize her mouth is hovering above you, eyes asking you for permission as you quickly nod. „Liv please“ you whimper as she begins licking through your folds, her fingers teasing your entrance as you buck your hips. She enters you slowly, collecting some of your juices before standing, her free hand taking your hardened nipples into her hands.

Olivia is quick to bring you close, your panties having been soaked most of the night and bringing her to her own release only adding to how close you are. But she can tell you need more, the way your hips buck, face begging her and in a swift motion she turns you around, face firm against her desk as she stands behind you. Her fingers move back into your pussy with ease as she uses her other hand to grab your ass. You meet her halfway as you move into her fingers, needing more. „Please Liv, I‘m so- close“ the words are barely a whisper as you struggle through your moans, tears stinging in your eyes how good she is making you feel. Her free hand fists your hair as she pulls it, harder than you anticipated causing you to whince.

The slight pain causes you to falter as you bite your lip hard, trying not to scream. „Liv I‘m gonna“ you moan but she is already hovering above you, her mouth close to your ear as she nibbles on it. „Cum for mommy“ she coos and that‘s enough to send you over the edge, the bliss of it all causing you to force your eyes shut. Your orgasm washes over you in waves, cum dripping down Liv‘s fingers and onto her desk as you whimper softly. Your girlfriend gives you time to ride out your orgasm before she lets go of your hair and pulls her fingers out. Her fingers trail up and down your back, nails scratching the skin gently as she helps you find your breathing again. „Breathe sweetie, you did so well for me“ she coos as she gently turns you onto your back.

When your eyes open you see her smile, causing you to blush again under her gaze, not having anticipated the evening to take this kind of turn. „Turns out I need to wear this more often“ she teases as she hands you your clothes and begins to dress herself again. You nod before putting your clothes back on, helping to pick up the contents of her desk as your legs feel a little like jelly. As you turn to her you watch as she puts on her tie and you bite your lip before stepping forward. With ease you put it on for her, adjusting her uniform incase you would bump into anyone on the way home. After you finish, she places a kiss on your cheek and you move to her ears before going on your tip toes „You know the strap you‘ve been talking about?“ you ask which causes her eyes to widen and head to nod.

„Think I‘m ready to try it“ you whisper causing her to smirk before she kisses your lips, surprised at your sudden boldness as you hadn‘t tried that before. „Okay let me take you home then sweetheart“ she whispers before biting her lip and taking your hand. „I‘m definitely going to wear this more often“ she giggles as she walks you to her car, opening the door for you before she gets in herself, beginning to take you both home before her hand lingers on you, possessively and excited. And if you both knew one thing, this was going to be a long night after all.