#the one latching onto you for warmth under the sheets

[2-dsimp]

Yooo, kiss marry kill? Sign me up! I'll even throw in fuck for the fun of it. The Hitman Team Kiss: Danny the Boss Reason: He's a cutie, but I wouldn't want to marry him. The way he practically worships darling would throw me off after a little. But he's cute enough to get the smooch. Marry: Koji the Medic/ Moros the Torturer Reason: 1. I am clumsy. I will fall over air if I'm not careful, and even though he may tease me about it, I think Koji would still be happy to lovingly scold my reckless self whilst patching me up. 2. I like baking, so me and Moros could make cute couple things. Also, I think Moros is adorable because... because. Kill: Idk.. Ossian the Sniper? Reason: I don't really know much about him yet, and he seems like the peeping tom kinda guy. Fuck: Yujin the Hacker Reason: Goofy lil man deserves to be fucked like the goofy lil man he is. The Monster Gang Kiss: Xavier the Poltergeist Reason: I like seeing people flustered because of what I do. This little goober seems like the type to get flustered with a forehead smooch. So he gets 2 forehead kisses. Marry: Rivius the Archdevil. Reason: I'm taller then him. But, he also seems like a very warm(body temp wise) person, and I will cuddle with him and fall asleep. He also seems like I'd have some freedoms with what I do, as long as I remember I chose to marry him. Kill: hhhh No one. Reason: I am a monster fucker through and through. They're all adorable. Fuck: Fredrico the Devilbat. Reason: Man is a silly tall boi. He's cute, but not cute enough for me to marry. He can get it though. The Spin Offs

Kiss: Covu the Photographer. Reason: I hate my photo being taken, so he's crossed off the marry list. But he can get a smooch for attempting <3. Marry: Nokka the Husband. Reason: I can deal with traditional/sexist views cause I grew up with it from the males in my family. Also, he seems like he can attempt to take care of me and my emotional baggage. Kill: Adonis the Hero Reason: I just don't like heroes, even if they're the most despicable human on earth. Sorry my dude. Fuck: Quio the DILF Reason: Man is (sorta) husband material. But I would be a horrible mother for Peina. I would muck up so much, and accidentally ruin her childhood. But I also love Quio's personality, so he can get the fuck spot.

Ooo A fellow monster lover!

I see youuuu ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

[januaryembrs]

THE KID SWINGS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]

Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.

Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)

Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.

authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.

previous chpt | next chapter

‘If you take a swing, the kid swings back,

she say I’m not your punching bag,’

The one where Emily comes back.

She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. She’d experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. She’d tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart. 

She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful she’d feel the next day, she probably wouldn’t have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all. 

The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didn’t care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar. 

Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night. 

Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her. 

Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down. 

“Fuck,” She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit. 

“Alright, up we get,” There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasn’t a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasn’t until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, “Of course you wake up the second I turn around,”

“Sencer?,” She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, “Spencer?” She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy. 

“Good morning, to you too,” His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, “Did you sleep well?”

“Morgan- where’s Morgan, I thought we…” She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water he’d got her and two advil. 

“Morgan’s safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,” Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didn’t catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as he’d suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine he’d given her, “Drink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, you’re probably dehydrated.”

“I did…” She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, “You know,” 

He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow. 

“Spence-” Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than she’d initially thought.

“Let’s get you breakfast, and then we’ll talk,” He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didn’t fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.

-

“God, I am truly pathetic,” She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye. 

“You’re not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,” Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldn’t help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, “You’re safe, that’s all that matters,” 

She sighed, and Spencer didn’t actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, “Spencer, look at me,” He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, “I’m a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I can’t just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I can’t even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,” She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup she’d created on the plate, “And the fucking bedframe won.” 

He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, “Bug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, I’ve seen pathetic and you’re not- why are you crying, Bug, don’t cry,”

He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff. 

“I’m crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-” She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. “How could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, I’ll show them how we settled things in Russia-” 

He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat. 

“It wasn’t all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,” He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him. 

“You know, you never have to be alone again, right?” Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I promise I’ll never leave you again. That was… selfish of me, I’m sorry I was so selfish.” 

Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her god’s honest words would be ‘Anything for you, Spencer, I’d do anything for you.’ He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close. 

“You’re my best friend too. And you weren’t selfish, you were grieving,” He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. “I have to tell you something,”

She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges. 

He cleared his throat, “When I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasn’t entirely true, and I’m sorry I lied to you,” Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldn’t find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, “There was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his father’s shed,” 

She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire. 

“He was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,” His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldn’t look at her for what he was about to say, “Tobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his father’s beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,” 

“Spence,” She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ because she hated those two words with a passion, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” 

“No, I want to, it’s just a little… fuzzy in parts,” He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, “After the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,”

“Did anyone know?” She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didn’t care if she asked questions, “Did Emily know?” 

He nodded gingerly, “Everyone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and I’d be forced to leave the team,” 

“So no one helped?” She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. He’d be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didn’t curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when he’d sobered up, when he’d got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldn’t diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers. 

“There was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I aren’t going to say a word about what happened last night,” He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway. 

She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself. 

“You’re never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,” 

And he believed her with everything in him. 

–

Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotch’s insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself. 

It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right? 

Sure, walking past Emily’s desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sister’s things had once been on. 

She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasn’t there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didn’t bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Pen’s lair at lunchtime.)

She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emily’s picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day she’d been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass. 

There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasn’t Penelope’s cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasn’t Beth’s runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasn’t Rossi’s insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because ‘he had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meat’, and it wasn’t even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it. 

No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge. 

Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either. 

And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadn’t gone after him first. 

Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think they’d get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.

And now it was Bug’s turn to reciprocate the favour. 

The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt. 

Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasn’t until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than she’d thought.

The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue. 

“We got him,” Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days. 

They had found Doyle. 

She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips. 

“You’re sure you’re alright to do this?” JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girl’s leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyle’s apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in. 

Only, when they’d arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor. 

“Put it this way, JJ, I’m going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,” Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyle’s neck. 

The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice. 

Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours. 

Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyle’s apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours. 

“He’s in there, someone’s in there,” Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open. 

JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, “We got movement on Doyle, we’re heading up to search his apartment,” 

“Be careful, keep an eye on the kid,” Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nanny’s house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsy’s mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle. 

But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossi’s head off for suggesting it even. 

–

She’d seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasn’t going in alone, but she didn’t listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded. 

She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morgan’s steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment. 

He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup. 

Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine o’clock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away. 

“I heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,” She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile they’d put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, “Truth is, I’ve been wanting to see you too,”

She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself. 

But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didn’t ache, didn’t matter, because she had him in her reach. 

It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure. 

He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye. 

“You recognise me?” She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee she’d seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.

She wasn’t the only enemy he’d made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one.  

He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl he’d had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed. 

This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had. 

“Do you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?” She asked, and her voice wasn’t calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, “Your mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,” 

She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyle’s pathetic existence was the solution. 

Until Morgan’s hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than she’d expected to her ear. She’d barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt. 

“Don’t do this, kid,” 

“He deserves it,” She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand. 

“I know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we can’t do that without him,” Morgan’s voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him. 

Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor. 

“I got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,” Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morgan’s rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell. 

She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, “Don’t worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.” She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, “I wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?”

His smile wiped clean off his face at that.

-

“How’s it going?” Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight. 

“He won’t talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.” She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, “Just another dead end,” She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.

Hotch’s face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run. 

Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way. 

He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsy’s hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her. 

She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth. 

“Everybody have a seat,” The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsy’s frown.

“Why?” Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, “What’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,” 

Bugsy’s ears started ringing just hearing her sister’s name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief. 

And that hadn’t even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her. 

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,” Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror. 

No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying. 

Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all. 

“What?” Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the world’s worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark. 

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock. 

“But we buried her,” Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly. 

“As I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,” And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth. 

He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someone’s face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew that’s what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her. 

He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong. 

Garcia’s head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morgan’s face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself. 

Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything they’d been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well. 

She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze. 

But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her. 

She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself. 

Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her. 

“Oh, my god, it’s real-you’re real- like I can actually touch you and you’re safe and not in that god awful box-” Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the woman’s shoulder. 

That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy. 

She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyle’s financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time. 

And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod. 

“I am so sorry, I really am,” Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. “Not a day went by that I didn’t-”

But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest. 

Bugsy was laughing. 

Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadn’t heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged. 

Hotch’s head snapped to her, Emily’s too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadn’t so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in. 

But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back, she believed it was called. 

“She never made it off the table,” Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girl’s nasty smile hadn’t let up, “You are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesn’t work out then acting is alway an option for you,”

“Bug-” Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didn’t seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle. 

“And you! I didn’t know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,” She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, “But then again, you are nothing if not professional, aren’t you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,”

“I think you need to calm down and let’s talk about this for a second,” Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her. 

But she didn’t; didn’t even look her way as she approached, and it wasn’t until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step. 

“Stop, let’s just talk,”

“Let go of me,” Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.

“Listen to me, we had no choice here,” Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And that’s what he was; he was losing her. They all were. “And I would have thought you’d be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-”

Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat. 

Penelope gasped. Spencer’s eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp. 

“Bugsy!” Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sister’s eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful she’d expected.

“I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, don’t even speak that name, I don’t want it from you anymore,” Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, “You left me. You left me.”

With those three choked words, the other’s could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.

–

She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust. 

She couldn’t really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell. 

She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.

“Spencer, if you’re going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-” Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a woman’s voice. 

“I was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,” Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap ‘I <3 Virginia’ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her boss’s boss to light the tip, “I heard you gave Aaron a shock,”

Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.

“Bit of an understatement,” She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, “Did you know?” 

“Are you going to slap me too if I said yes?” Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, “Would it matter if I did?”

 “No, I guess not,” She replied, breathing in through her nose, “I want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just … empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didn’t think to tell her own sister?”

“Probably because you’re the one she loves the most,” Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, “It was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,” 

 “She left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,” Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them. 

Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either. 

“Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.” Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. “Paul Pearsall,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.

“It means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, you’re going to need her, or she’s going to need you, and you’ll wish you never pushed each other away,” 

2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.

Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sister’s head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that. 

She wouldn’t tell her anything. 

It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so they’d have something to talk about at least.

She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum she’d thrown. 

She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadn’t been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldn’t fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive. 

In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for. 

Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people she’d considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors. 

Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. She’d always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him. 

Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldn’t even stand to look at her without remembering how hard she’d cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash. 

“Good Morning,” Emily’s voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them. 

Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her. 

But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I don’t want your charity. 

Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didn’t care she was hurting too.

Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. “Better in the trash than thrown over my face, right?”

She moved away from the woman’s desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured ‘thankyou’ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back. 

Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word. 

He hadn’t brought up that night, hadn’t spoken about the way she’d pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadn’t brought it up either, he assumed she didn’t want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place. 

He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didn’t think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness. 

Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didn’t want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didn’t ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each other’s solace, then he wouldn’t fight it. Because he didn’t want to ruin it either. 

He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods. 

“You okay?” He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, “Pretend like you don’t forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if that’s what you want,”

She’d noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emily’s gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine. 

They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sister’s noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on. 

“But you’re upset with her?” Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, “I’m upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. I’m essentially hurt by proxy,” 

She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossi’s office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, “I appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and she’s my sister. It’s different for you guys. And it’s not like we’re dating, because then I’d be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,” She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips. 

She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didn’t make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close. 

She just wished she hadn’t made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever. 

He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, “I’ll never understand the rules,” Though he hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact she’d brought up whatever it was between them too. 

Because he wasn’t entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didn’t understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her. 

-

The press was calling him “The Circle of Eight killer,” no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush. 

“Eighty eight dollars, the UnSub’s getting generous,” She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victim’s body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, “There’s more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didn’t have to see the victim when he did it,”

Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. “There’s less rage here, an undoing,” Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victim’s pockets for anything off. 

When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victim’s families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily ‘died’. 

“There’s no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,” Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way. 

“Is it even the same guy?” Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face. 

“The ritual’s too similar to discount,” He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought. 

“The change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didn’t work so he’s back to the drawing board.” Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement she’d seen all day. 

“Two eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,” Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful. 

“In ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,” She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, “And the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,”

He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadn’t stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years. 

That, and he’d always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of. 

“Why would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?” Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sister’s fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy. 

“There’s been another killing,” Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, “A guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,” 

“Same ritual?” Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.

“No. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.” Goslin replied, shaking her head, “Strange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,” 

“Money isn’t his motive here,” Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, “Atleast, not that guy’s money,”

“Garcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?” He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone. 

They heard a quick clatter of typing, “Uhhh, No casinos per se, but there’s a private gambling establishment right around the corner.” She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard. 

“Is it legal?”

“Yeah, but it’s ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,” She paused for a second, “Today being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,”

“Or no coincidence at all,” Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.

“What’s the buy in?” Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer. 

“Yikies, $50,000,” And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, “But, it’s a million dollar guarantee if you win,”

“What time does it start?” Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do. 

“Later this evening,” Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene. 

“So, if anyone’s got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,” Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government. 

Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another. 

–

“Any luck?” JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily. 

“No, they don’t want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, I’m still working on it,” Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed. 

“Well, I can’t imagine why not, we’re only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold ‘em,” Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo. 

“Hey, what about you?” Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.

“What about me what?” David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment. 

“You could stake us the buy-in,” She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossi’s palling face. 

“You’re a best selling author,” Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag. 

“No,” Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in. 

“Why not?” 

“One, it’s against regulations and I’d like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.” David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas. 

“It’s a minor administrative violation,” Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay. 

She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.

“And, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,”

“Poker chips are things!” Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face. 

“Maybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?” Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAU’s youngest members. 

“At my what?” He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencer’s forearm with a gentle squeeze. 

“Reel it in, reel it in,” She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, “What he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,”

David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds. 

“All right. Fine.” He sighed heavily like he’d seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, “I’m a decent poker player, but I can’t promise that I can stay in the game long enough to…”

“You know what? I bet you’re a great poker player,” Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, “But what if we sent in Reid?”

“I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,” Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes. 

“They can’t ban you for maths, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, “They hate to see an underdog win, it’s Rocky all over again,” 

“Tell me about it,” He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her. 

“Look I know I’m not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. It’s about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.” Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsy’s shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, “The kid does not have a poker face.”

“Which is why we’re going to send him with someone who does,” JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did. 

“Huh?” She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands. 

At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly. 

–

“I swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me who’s charging fifty thousand per head,” Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else. 

It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund. 

They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patron’s clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out. 

“Only fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,” Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslin’s task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness. 

He wished his cheeks didn’t feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadn’t made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didn’t like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that. 

He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasn’t real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him. 

The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket. 

Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress. 

Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasn’t the only one, she’d already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didn’t leave until sundown, primped and primed for their player’s delight. 

They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off. 

She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends. 

The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills. 

“You wish this was you, huh, baby?” She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didn’t give him away as quick as he reckoned it did. 

He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection. 

The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didn’t, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket. 

He produced the medical looking device, one they’d already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, “Halitosis,” 

The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dad’s bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didn’t care about his medical condition, he didn’t know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief. 

“You want a drink?” He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips. 

“My treat, to get you started,” Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done. 

At least that’s what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadn’t caused her heart rate to spike. 

She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldn’t want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively. 

“See anything yet?” She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room. 

He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed. 

Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw. 

“No one looking particularly suspicious,” He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, “You are getting a lot of attention however,” 

And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there. 

She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman she’d had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, “Not from anyone that matters, boy wonder,” 

And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they weren’t Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba. 

He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him. 

He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.

Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldn’t have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else. 

It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time. 

But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win. 

A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub. 

She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway. 

It wasn’t until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once they’d been dealt. 

From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hour’s sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple. 

Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.

She quickly looked back to Spencer’s cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that she’d seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture. 

The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door. 

Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, “Nine O’Clock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,” 

Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsy’s as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age. 

He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know he’d seen him. 

They moved in tandem, just like they always had. 

A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance. 

“I’m going to go get another drink, honey,” She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, “Don’t forget to wait for your lucky charm,” 

He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, “I wouldn’t dare,” 

Because her message was clear. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m updating the team. 

She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product. 

Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencer’s that would give them the signal to enter. 

She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up. 

Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile. 

“So, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?” He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in. 

She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more. 

“I’m spoken for in advance,” She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,” 

And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then. 

The guy wasn’t their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision. 

She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards.  Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencer’s right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door. 

It didn’t shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencer’s shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him. 

“Is she part of the winnings?” The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house. 

She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the man’s drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening. 

Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, “Sorry, boys. Only person who’s taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,”

One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, “Lucky fucker,”

And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run. 

Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldn’t blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better. 

“I’m calling,” The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling. 

“I’ll raise,” The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, “Eight thousand,”

What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencer’s shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks. 

“$8,000, that’s fifty six months’ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,” Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, “Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart. 

“Look, it’s eight thou’ to you, are you in or are you out?” The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold. 

“I am in,” He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, “And I raise,”

“Three raise,” The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat. 

“That’s too rich for my blood,” He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over. 

“Sir, are you in?” The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsy’s where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencer’s maths, she would stake her life on it in fact. 

“I’ll call,” The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure. 

Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. “Straight.” 

Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSub’s face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice. 

He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight. 

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore, will you honey?” Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guy’s hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning. 

“Don’t,” He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsy’s mind there was no doubt this was their guy.

Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security second’s later. 

“You’re going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,” Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, “Real tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,” 

“Relax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,” The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, “Don’t shit your pants, I’m kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,”

Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door. 

��

“Spencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,” After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress. 

“I want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,” Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night. 

She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they weren’t. 

“Except he’s not murdered anyone,” She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, “He’s just some dumb asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself and- it’s him,”

The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen. 

It wasn’t until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face. 

“Hi sweetheart,” She smiled viciously, “I told you I’d see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,” 

3. The one with the bank explosion

The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless. 

“Okay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?” Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her. 

“Absolutely!” Spencer chimed in, “Do you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?”

“Obvs,” Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, “Thanks for coming with me,” 

“Ofcourse, I’ve been knitting this scarf for weeks,” Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay. 

“Who are you going as?” She’d asked, the minute he’d asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her. 

“The Fourth Doctor,” Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, “Tom Baker’s Doctor, he’s a fan favourite,” 

He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest. 

“Who’s that?” She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts. 

“That’s Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. She’s one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctor’s companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,” He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest. 

“So like, is she his girlfriend or-”

“No, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctor’s third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,” He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head. 

“Well, can I be her? For your convention?” She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, “You know, since you saved me from my wedding?” 

He paused, because she’d never really spoken about that day she’d jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next. 

“S-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.” He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, “I didn’t really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,”

She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, “You all saved me, I don’t know what I would have done if Em-” She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes. 

If Emily hadn’t been there. 

Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasn’t any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move. 

But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer. 

“Hey, listen, next time I promise I’ll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,” Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or she’d unravel into self hatred. 

She chuckled aghast, “Next time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,”

He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, “Sorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS I’m afraid,” 

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together. 

“Well, I mean if those are the rules,” She simpered, snuggling under his chin, “Does this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?”

She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot. 

He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice. 

“Oh my god,”

“Penelope?” 

Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelope’s ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bug’s opinion he didn’t have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform. 

“Kevin, hi, you came,” The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, “And you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?”

Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, “I’m fine, uh, you?”

Bugsy gripped onto Spence’s arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it. 

“I am also fine,” Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. “Okay, well, see ya,”

“You’re not gonna go in?” Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy genius’ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women. 

“Actually, we just went in and it’s super lame,” Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. “So we’re leaving,”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentiss’ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, “Well, great costumes,” 

“Yeah, you too,” Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasn’t quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.

Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip. 

“Well, that was awkward,” Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry. 

He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules. 

He hated girl rules. He never understood them. 

“Oh my god, we used to come every year, I can’t believe he brought someone else,” Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows. 

“Well you brought someone else,” Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Pen’s back with a bite in her tone. 

“Girl rules, Spencer, girl rules,” He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes. 

Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart. 

“Yeah, someone I couldn’t possibly be attracted to,” Penelope stated, “Besides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks I’m your guys third-”

“Woah, woah, what?” Bugsy asked with wide eyes, “He thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?” 

Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldn’t even look at him without stumbling over her words. 

“Well he knows we’re- like I mean we’re not even each other’s seconds so how could you be our third you know?” She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot. 

Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didn’t want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her. 

It wasn’t until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up. 

“And I mean Kevin shouldn’t have just assumed- oh sorry,” She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, “Oh, Rossi?” 

David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning. 

He sighed, hard. 

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencer’s side with an incredulous look on her face. 

“Are you here for the convention?” Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today. 

“Who schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?” Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, “What is that, a robot dog?” 

“K-9,” The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second. 

“Kevin brought another woman, I’m plotting revenge. Do you want to help?” Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance. 

“Know where we can get any horse heads?” Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, “What? I’m thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-”

“I’m taking that as my cue to leave,” Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, “Now you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so I’m going to love you from afar,”

He ruffled Bugsy’s hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye. 

They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, “So are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because I’m sure I know a guy in college-”

“No, Bugsy,” Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, “Definitive no,” 

–

They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene. 

She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest. 

“It’s definitely them,” Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Will’s partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach. 

So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby. 

“I only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queen’s inside too,” He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building. 

“The media's calling them the face cards,” Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, “Seven bank robberies in seven months. They’ve killed one person at each robbery,” 

“MO?” Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.

“Single gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,” Hotch replied, and it wasn’t until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement. 

Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready. 

“Serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and we’re only just hearing about this now?” Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units. 

“Headquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away. 

“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for them?” Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse. 

“I disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,” Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily. 

JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasn’t for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged ‘Buggy’ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well. 

“Why are we here now?” Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaron’s frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

“What do we know about them?” JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together. 

“They’re organised, they're efficient,” Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, “Each strike lasts about two minutes,”

Derek’s face scrunched in confusion, “They gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why haven’t we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?” 

“They hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watch” Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers. 

Bugsy’s eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows. 

The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life. 

“Why haven’t they cut the feed now that they’ve been cornered,” Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, “Letting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,”

“Unless they want the audience,” Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, “Although the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,”

“The masks add to their narcissism,” Spencer input with a nod, “Their personas are the royalty of poker,”

“JJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology,” Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer. 

This was going to be a long day. 

–

“I can help,” Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest. 

It hadn’t even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage. 

Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre. 

“What do you mean you can help?” Emily said with a scathing tone, “Bug, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way if you have no clue what you’re-”

“I did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,” Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than she’d had in months. She preferred it when they weren’t speaking at all. 

“Because you were bored?” Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old they’d plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, “Did you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?” 

She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information. 

“Can I speak to you outside please?” Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite. 

Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasn’t the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen. 

JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters.  

“Do you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?” Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sister’s throat was something nasty. 

“Oh, please, don’t make yourself sound so important.” Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, “I’m not doing any of this to get back at you, I’m trying to save those hostages in there-” 

“So I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?” Emily laughed, laughed, in her sister’s face, and Bugsy saw red even more, “I thought you were a better liar than that,”

“Maybe if you’d bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasn’t being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like you’re my mom or something,” Bugsy’s voice was getting louder, and Emily’s smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. “Same with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-”

“Do not speak about him like that,” Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her. 

“Why? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?” The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, “Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest given your track record-”

Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girl’s throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves. 

The three of them hissed when Bugsy’s hand swiped against Emily’s cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were. 

Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken. 

Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsy’s eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together. 

“Fucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-”

“I would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-”

This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit. 

Because they didn’t want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never. 

“Get the fuck off me or I’m punching you in the crotch,” Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sister’s freakishly strong arms with a frown, “EMILY- I SAID-”

“I was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-” But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance. 

She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her. 

She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmaster’s office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves. 

But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsy’s lip bleeding where Emily’s ring had caught it on the corner, Emily’s cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up. 

She didn’t want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies. 

He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest. 

Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.

Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

“Bugsy?” The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, “I’m so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sister’s solemn face, “You told JJ and Hotch but you couldn’t even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?”

Emily’s brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too. 

“No, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to come home to you,” She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, “I had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,”  

Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, “Well, I don’t know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,” She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, “But I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe don’t love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, he’s real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your you’re not, like you can’t just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesn’t deserve that,” 

Bugsy’s lip was quivering by the time she’d finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together. 

“Are we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-”

“No, we’re definitely talking about Sergio,” She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emily’s face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sister’s gaze that wasn’t so full of vitriol hatred anymore. 

Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, “Right, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,” She held up her hand, stroking down Bug’s cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, “Well, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that there’s nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though I’m not his mom, he’s still always going to be my kid, you know?” 

Bugsy’s face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emily’s eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her. 

“Really? You promise?” Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, “Well, I’m sure he’ll love to hear that, I’ll tell him when we’re home-”

Emily laughed, kissing her sister’s forehead, and pulling her into a side hug. 

“Alright, tough guys. Let’s get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,” Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another. 

Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didn’t understand she needed.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

–

Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again. 

Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that they’d identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brother’s death. 

They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.

Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed. 

“Did you see where he was shot?” JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street. 

Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation. 

“Is he alive or dead, Bug?” JJ snipped, but she knew she didn’t mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws. 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Bugsy replied, Emily’s hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelope’s personal lair for better coverage on the BAU’s resources. 

“He was wearing a vest,” Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, “He might be okay,”

“Might be?” JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, “Alright we need to get inside,”

“JJ, it’s too risky,” Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, “We don’t have eyes in there anymore,”

Jennifer’s eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. “Aaron.” 

Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, “Let’s go in,”

Bugsy leapt for the medical kit they’d kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless. 

She refused to feel like that again, not now she’d been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did. 

Will wouldn’t die if she had anything to do with it. 

-

“Seeing what’s going on outside doesn’t help us inside,” Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Pen’s office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side. 

He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.

“Kevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?” He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emily’s SWAT team moving slowly towards hers. 

“Sure, what are we looking for?” The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelope’s keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter. 

“The female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasn’t looking for an escape, what was she doing?” 

Spencer paused, because he couldn’t help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was. 

The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere. 

This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing. 

If he wasn’t already dead, he would be any minute now. 

Spencer’s chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsy’s mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears. 

He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.

So what was she doing?” 

Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers. 

“Gas mains,” His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, “Garcia, get them out of there now,”

But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsy’s figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them. 

But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard David’s frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, “ABORT, ABORT!” 

Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover. 

Spencer couldn’t truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.

The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadn’t figured it out fast enough, hadn’t warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would. 

Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartment’s little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him. 

Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards. 

And Bugsy went down with it. 

Taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred

[poebot]

good for me. | sub!ellie williams

tags: sub!ellie, dom!reader, cunilingus (e!recieving), over stimulation, nipple sucking, praise

a/n: dude i saw a pic (first one) of ellie that filled my mind with brainrot about nipple sucking like all i could think about was rolling her pretty tits under my tongue and agsjej- anyways. we need more sub!ellie in this damn community.

you had her pinned down by the wrists against your pristine white sheets, straddling her hips and watching intently as her chest rises and falls with each shaky intake of air. her long fingers flex and squirm beneath your grasp as she starts to turn pink under your intense gaze, heat swarming in her lower stomach. she worries her bottom lip with her teeth making you tsk unapprovingly. a gentle hand reaches down to caress her warm cheek before you grasp more firmly at her jaw, your thumb swiping her pouty lip out of her mouth. its flushed and wet with saliva and the soft gasp ellie lets out from the subtle dominance of your actions has you leaking into your underwear.

“look at you. my pretty girl. being so good for me.." you lean forward to whisper into her ear. your tits press into hers as you place lingering open mouthed kisses against the sensitive flesh of her neck right below the sharp angle of her jaw. she squeezes her eyes shut and her mouth hangs open slightly. shes panting out sharp little breaths of anticipation. “nngh- please touch me..need you so bad." ellie sighs out the words like they're a secret, and a vicious smile spreads across your face at her little confession. she was enjoying this. enjoying being toyed with, completely at your mercy. the contrast was striking; like night and day. all the snark was gone from her voice. you wanted nothing more than to satisfy her wish and reward her obedience, but not before making her truly desperate for it.

“where do you need me, els?” your voice is sultry and low, almost unrecognisable to yourself. the innate power of having her in this vulnerable position enflames something in you, makes you slippery between the thighs. you want to make her work for it. to beg you to let her cum. you barely register the way your own hips begin to rock slightly against the front of her jeans. ellie gasps, bucking up into you. the subtle friction of your heat against hers makes her needy and anxious to feel you. she struggles slightly against your restraint, yearning to hold your hips. to grip your flesh in her hands and grind you down onto her, to coach you both to a release. “fuck- please baby, i’ve been so good. i can make you feel good, just lemme-” she’s babbling now, groaning as you increase the speed of your grinding.

“hey.” your tone is sharp and authoritative as you grab her by the chin again, diverting her attention. she’s instantly silent, staring up at you with eager eyes and furrowed brows. it almost breaks you. “relax. lemme take care of you.” your smile is sickly sweet as you lean down to connect your lips with hers in a chaste kiss that has her chasing your mouth when you depart. you finally release her wrists with a curt “stay.” that makes ellie swallow a whimper. but she’s such a good girl, staying perfectly still for you, watching as your hands slowly inch her tank top up to expose her perky breasts. your mouth waters at the sight of her soft pink nipples and you’re quick to latch onto one with a groan whilst palming the other.

ellie’s breathing increases rapidly as she watches you flick her nipple up and down with your tongue until it pebbles in your mouth. your lips are gentle, sucking the flesh softly and overwhelming her senses with the feeling of warmth. “uhhn- feels s’good baby, ffuck” ellie hiccups out, moving her hand to lace through your hair. you pop off of her nipple and blow cool air onto the flesh just to make her shiver, giggling cruelly at how cute she looks. her hair is a mess and her body shines with a sheer layer of sweat, a pretty flush spreading from her face down to her neck. she looks utterly fucked out and you haven't even ventured between her thighs yet.

you make quick work of unbuttoning her jeans, sliding them down to reveal her freckled legs. her boxer briefs are slick with her arousal making them almost sheer. the pretty outline of her pussy is on full display. you sigh contently, reaching under her knees to hike her legs up and spread them. “you’re adorable, you know that?” your voice is breathy as you take in the erotic sight below you, reaching a finger down to swipe through her wet folds over her underwear. “so wet.” ellie instinctively bucks into your touch, whining. “sh-shut up n’ fuck me already”

on a different day, you’d be crueler. punish her for speaking out of line by denying her your touch. but you’re just as desperate for her, and all you can offer is a non-committal “say please” which shes quick to relinquish before your diving forward to swipe your tongue up her pussy, desperate for a taste. “fuck!” ellie yelps out, her head thrown back against the sheets. she tastes tangy and sweet and you moan deeply before sucking her slick through the thin fabric.

“lets get these off of you, yeah?” you pant before shoving her wrecked briefs down the plush of her thighs. sticky webs of her arousal cling onto the fabric, and fuck she looks so pretty like this, all wet and pliant for you. her hole pulses around nothing and you’re quick to shove your face back in, sucking her puffy clit into your mouth. ellie’s hands fly, grabbing chunks of your hair in a fist as she humps mindlessly against your tongue. so greatful to finally feel some sense of relief. she’s letting out whiney cries of your name, practically fucking your face. her free hand grasps the sheets when your tongue prods into her entrance, gathering her precum onto your tongue.

“holy f-fuck baby ‘m gonna cum- fuckfuckfu” you’ve never seen her this needy, so close to release this soon; her voice is high and she can barely form full sentences as you feel her pussy pulse and her strong thighs trap you, warm liquid spilling into your eager mouth. you continue to eat her out through her high until shes tearing up and pushing you away, completely over stimulated.

“hh- shit…” shes huffing out, collapsed onto the bed with her arm covering her eyes. you crawl up ellie’s body to kiss her softly, the lingering taste of her cum still fresh on your tongue. a warm hand reaches down to massage the tense muscles of her thighs and you hold her face with the other, staring at her hazy expression. “you okay?” you whisper to her, pecking the tip of her nose lovingly. ellie smiles warmly, basking in the after glow of her orgasm, her eyes closed. “more than okay. fucking amazing.”

[guardianofnightmares]

Sunrise

Faint beam of artificial light from a surface danced off yellow armor of an Autobot, giving it a color of a newborn star. Bumblebee graced the Decepticon with a broad smile, its warmth making the hostile gloom around his facial features to dissipate.

To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.

A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.

----------

Alright, fellas, next entry to the @blitzbee-week event is finally here)). The prompt of the second day was "Sunrise" and I decided to go more figuratively with it rather then depicting a literal "appearance of the sky" at a particular part of a day. As you can guess by a provided description, Bee basically becomes a "leading star" for a brooding Blitzwing, who, as it seems, is not that thrilled by discovery of his partner.

Just as a previous entry to a mentioned event, this picture is dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". Here's a [link] for the series "folder" which also includes an existing teaser (future prologue) for a story if anyone wants to give it a try. Again, can not thank you enough for all the support you've shown for it so far, I will try my best to come up with updates soon enough.

As it usually goes with such works of mine, I will provide the full snippet of one of chapters, which a depicted scene is taken from, under a cut line for anyone wishing to read more about the scene. Hope you'll enjoy it)

To the surprise of many comrades he’d worked with, the Triplechanger proved to be the most patient mech on a team when it came to long lasting missions. Usually he didn’t find it difficult to lay low and wait for orders to come, even if it meant to stay idle for several solar cycles. It was a useful trait of character which Decepticon rightfully prided himself of. 

Yet, even a seemingly boundless patience had its limits. 

“Can you see anything of use out there?” Blitzwing finally asked his unfortunate “partner in crime”.

A brightly colored mech slipped on the spot upon hearing Con’s voice but managed to regain his balance. 

“Not yet, Blitzwing, give me a klik!” A minibot shouted over his shoulder, holding on the steel bar for dear life. “Climbing is not as easy as I’m surely making it look in your optics.”

If Bumblebee planed to cheer up a Warframe with such a comment, he failed miserably, for it only seemed to sour up an already bad mood of a tall mech. 

To a Decepticon, it felt like forever since the minibot began his ascend up a steep scarp of a crumbled wall. One would think that, thanks to his light frame, he’d manage to reach the top level in no time. But even this uneven terrain, made of torn sheets of metal and broken cables, proved to be a challenge to an agile Autobot. 

The damned energy chain, which linked limbs of both mechs to each other, clearly was the greatest obstacle for Bumblebee, barely giving him a chance to move as far away from a somber mech as possible. Not to mention that a Decepticon was forced to stand on one pede in order to accommodate his companion’s slow conquest of new heights. 

Admittedly, a Triplechanger considered an option of tearing the bug’s pede he’s bound to off. But that type of cuffs always latched onto anything in their vicinity (while being activated). Meaning, the chances of getting tied to a nearby wall, as a result of said actions, reached more than 90%. 

Tearing his own pede off was not part of a Warframe’s plans. 

“If you haven’t noticed it yet, Bumblebee Prime, we don’t have plenty of time left to hide in these tunnels,” A “former” convict grumbled in response while surveying his surroundings for an up-tenth time. He didn’t notice how a Bot winced at the mention of his new title.

Minibot knew he deserved that snide remark. But it did not make him feel better about his recent promotion to an Elite Guard. Or about a decision to become one for that matter. The decision which led to a situation where an Autobot and a Decepticon got lost under an Iacon city. 

They had to hide in maintenance tunnels from the times prior to a Great War. Tunnels built by Decepticons for Autobots’ use, and left by them to slowly rot in an utter disrepair after the said War was officially ended. Sealed off since the banishment of Warframes from Cybertron, eventually the structure turned into an urban myth not many of currently living mechs remember or even know about.

An old complex Blitzwing and Bumblbee were currently navigating in was once part of the major supportive structure. Meant to protect veins and tubes once full of energon, that section was made of sturdy materials which stoically passed the test of time. 

The Decepticon would’ve lied if he’d said he’s not pleasantly surprised by that discovery. 

But it did not bright up his mood by much - they still needed to find a way to the surface level of a planet. 

“Foolish of me to expect a scout with no field experience to do a Warframe’s job,” the mech muttered under his breath, words bitter on his glossa. “Perhaps I should have been the one to search for an exit after all”.

Blitzwing had no intent for the last sentence to be heard by his peer, but an aforementioned scout, apparently, had nicely tuned audials. 

Figures. 

“And to risk exposing your Decepticon signature to raging authorities? No, thanks!” Bumblebee chirped after successfully reaching for a rod sticking out of a long abandoned structure. “It was already enough of me putting everything at risk by making stupid decisions - I don’t want to see you following my lead.”

Somehow the fact that a minibot admitted his mistakes helped to somewhat cool Blitzwing down. He said nothing in return but did glance at him once prior returning to surveying desolated surroundings. 

Bumbler’s changed since the promotion to the ranks of an Elite Guard. He seemed to act more mature, even if he’s still naive about most things happening around him. For strangers it’d be an unexpected change of character for such an optimistic and energetic Bot as Bumblebee. But Blitzwing was no random outsider, whether he liked to be on closer terms with a current companion of his or not. 

Death of a teammate has effected the minibot on a much deeper level then he’d ever admit to anybody, even to himself. Yet, despite how horrible it might’ve sounded, the Decepticon thought that that was an important lesson every soldier had to live through. And as a mech, who’s witnessed deaths of many of his comrades throughout the Great War, he had to agree that Bumbler was holding up pretty well for someone so inexperienced in mentioned matters. 

Even Blitzwing, who did not know Prowl as well as a yellow Bot did, felt the loss of a mech effecting him as well to a certain degree. No matter how secluded and cold the cyber-ninja seemed to be, he always had a special aura around him, the one that made people feel at ease in his presence. Though how he could so freely speak to a Con about importance of life and probability of peace among Cybertronians remained a mystery to him to that solar cycle.  

What was that thing black and golden Autobot’s talking about during the last conversation of theirs? 

“To have Faith not in Primus, not in The Allspark, but in each other”?

What exactly made him see it being possible back then and, especially, at a current stage of the reignited conflict between factions? Triplechanger had no answer to that question either. He didn’t view how the world should work the same way Prowl did. Could not fully comprehend the intricacies of a philosophy of an Autobot, but, at least, did not lack the courage to make it very clear during a mentioned discussion of theirs.

Blitzwing didn’t have Faith in anyone anymore, and he surely wouldn't in a foreseen future. 

For who could remain being supportive of their unhelpful, unwanted partn-… Autobot, while being lost in Allspark forsaken place with no means of escape?

…

“… -es! I see the gap in a wall!.. Blitzwing, I actually see it!”

The joyful voice tore Triplechanger from a deep melancholy state he slipped into while looking down a dark tunnel to his left. He raised his ruby optics, their faint glow barely lighting sharp features of his blue faceplates.

“Right where you’ve predicted it to be,” The Autobot added after turning around in order to face his unfortunate companion, unintentionally giving him quite a peculiar view of his small form.

Faint beam of artificial light from a surface danced off yellow armor of an Autobot, giving it a color of a newborn star. Bumblebee graced the Decepticon with a broad smile, its warmth making the hostile gloom around his facial features to dissipate.

To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.

A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.

...

Blitzwing huffed in mild annoyance at himself and his artistic side of a processor - it was not the right moment for poetic comparisons. Hope and Faith had no place in a situation he was stuck in, only cold calculations. He and Bumbler had to get out of that place, no matter the cost. And the sooner they’d get rid of an energy chain, the better.

[moechies]

Ur fav guy fucking his mom pls pls

౨ৎ ⋆ take it, mommy ! ꨄ shidou ryusei ꒰ DARK CONTENT ꒱

sypnosis: grimy shidou fuckin' his mommy :(

content warnings 𝜚 𓈒 1.4k words ꒱ ince$t, yandere themes, pwop, tons of kissing, groping, no prep, creampie, whiny needy ryu, name usage including . . mommy, mama

“ryusei ! get off me!”

“no.. i love you, love y’so much mommy. missed you soo much.” he purrs against your warm skin. his heavy body lays atop of you, keeping you still below him as he grabs at your face and pressing sloppy kisses anywhere he deems possible; like a bunny in heat.

“n-not now, ryusei, mommy’s got things to do, okay?”

“y’really can’t spend some quality time with your son?” he pouts, a sight you’re never used to seeing. it makes your heart ache, and you sigh.

“b-but, i have to cook—“

“i can help you with that later, ‘kay? jus’ miss you mama, don’t leave me.”

you shrivel under his touch, finding it hard to respond with anything other than your usual ‘yes, of course i won’t .’ he attempts to read into your expression, looking for any sign of reassurance. he sighs with relief when you smile, burying himself in the crook of your collarbone when you run a hand through the soft of his fluffy hair. because he knows, knows that you’ve fallen into his trap once again.

. . ♡

ryusei only loves you. maybe it’s the fact that you’re the only one out of thousands of individuals that he’s ever met, that has shown him unconditional love. spending the last 20 years of your life grooming him, nurturing him, regardless of anything that has happened within the span of his fucked up life, he’s never found another like his own mother.

he can’t help but love you more than a son should love his mother, clinging onto you at any moment given possible when he isn’t out solely to play soccer for his profession.

the brat almost always gets into dangerous situations after a bad game, rushing home to find comfort in his mothers presence, as well as in her sloppy cunt. you attempt to scold him, but everything simply goes in one ear and out the next when he’s desperate for some lovin’ from his mother.

“i know.. i know already, okay? jus’ missed you so much. couldn’t wait to come home..” he mumbles, pressing his hot lips against yours. it’s overwhelming, his soft hands roaming your body and groping the flesh of your tits from under your shirt, the soft fat of them falling in between his fingers. “really just missed you s’much mama. forgive me, ‘kay?”

how heartless would you be if you didn’t ?

♡ . .

“w’na make you feel good. can i , mommy ? please ? w’na have you so bad.” he whines, fingers tugging at your shirt, quickly pulling them above your tits causing you to squeal. he wastes no time listening to your complaints, whining about how he’s too crude, and how he needs to be patient, instead he quickly latches onto your swollen bud. his strained cock unwittingly humps into the sheets, the wet sticky patch that leaks from his cock head dirtying his boxers.

ones you’d have to wash later, and look back on the ‘guilt‘ of your two’s doings.

he’s messy, and his spit coats not only your puffy areola but the fat of your tit. he gropes at your tit simultaneously, causing you to arch your back away from the rough sensation.

“r-ryusei hnn— too rough.”

“sorryyy. . didn’t mean t’mommy.” he mumbles, catching your lips in a heated kiss.

meanwhile, his hand travels below, pulling himself out of the confinement of his boxers. he sighs into your mouth out of relief, the warmth of his shaft unintentionally rubbing against your naked thigh. it makes you whine, squeezing your eyes tight.

“ryusei..” you mumble into the kiss , catching his attention. “you’re such a good boy f’mommy baby.” you coo with a light smile. his gaze softens, an ill-intentioned grin that spreads across his face. he yearns for your free hand, intertwining his bigger fingers with yours.

“can i fuck you now ? please, can’t wait anymore. it hurts , mommy.” he whines, leading your gaze down below where he fervidly attempts to rub out the ache in his cock. it’s a sight you’ve seen many times before, but one that you’re never able to get used to.

he’s heavy, and thick, the rotund tip leaking of creamy pre. his balls swell with need, desperate for any sort of release. he’s thickest around the middle, veins bulging across the entirety of his fat shaft. you find yourself salivating at the sight, quickly tidying your appearance before he has time to make fun of your expression.

“such a pretty sight, baby.” you coo, hoisting yourself onto your forearms to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

“t-thank you, mommy.” he mumbles, a light blush of pink painting over his cheeks. he’s unable to look into you, embarrassed, but doesn’t waste time to press a kiss on the tip of your nose to show his appreciation.

he rubs the swollen head against the pudgy slit of your cunt waiting for approval, shivering when he feels his pre mix into the slick of your arousal. his grip on your hand grows tighter, attempting to press further into your silky cunt.

“mommy, please—“

“mhm, be good for mommy, okay? go ahead, p-put it in, ryusei.”

you find yourself barely able to breathe throughout the the desperation, watching as his pupils grow into large black voids, shaped into hearts.

he wastes no time, quickly guiding his cock into the depths of your cunt. the arousal caused upon his teasing causes a slip, his creamy head accidently nudging over your puffy clit, making you jolt against him. he mumbles out insincere apologies, head empty other than the thought of getting in his mother’s cunt.

he nearly cums when he successfully fucks into you, your tight walls pulsating and gripping around him like no other. you squeal at the stretch, free hand coming up to push at his chest in an attempt to slow his movements.

“wait— ryu !”

“mommy,” he whines, on the brink of tears. if his eyes hadn’t been rolled back into his fucking skull, you’d very obviously see tears beading in the socket of his rosy irises.

“r-ryu,” you cry. “feels s’ good. y-you’re making mommy feel so good..”

his chest swells with pride, yearning to hear more of your honey-like praises.

he humps into you lazily, his breaths heavy and to be heard from rooms away. minimal sweat beads across the crown of his forehead, his gaze pacing back and forth from your frenzied state to down below where you two connect.

your cunt accommodates his girth perfectly, fat folds stretching to painful limits just enough to fit his cock. every thrust leaves a coat of pearlescent cream around him forming a ring, slow dribbles of cum spilling down and coating the tight rim below.

“l-love you, only you, love your pussy s’much, i— thankyouthankyouthank—“ his rambles are stopped by a kiss, but to no avail as he continues chanting against your lips. his hands rub up on every inch of your skin desperately, roughly fondling your messy tits, eager to feel more.

“wan’ you to cum, please, cum ‘round me mama. please—“ he mumbles meekly into your neck, bodies held together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

his thrusts become heavy and sloppy, leaving no room for you to squirm away as he holds tight. “hnn— r-ryu, it hurts— think ‘m g-gonna cum,” you cry, shimmery tears dragging along your dewy cheek. red painful streaks paint the back of the football player, but he pays no mind.

“cum, mommy, cum on it.” he moans breathlessly.

you’d never miss a chance to. your cunt convulses around him violently, pushing him over the edge at the given moment. creamy cum coats the insides, painting your walls white as his fat load seems to be never ending, filling your little cunt to the brim.

“ryusei, t-too much! wait !”

“take i-it, pleasee hnn—, just be still and take it f’me—“

he holds you tight, hindering your attempt to scramble away from the feeling, being sure you feel every inch, every drop of his heavy load.

he withdraws his limp cock from you unwillingly, whining at the sensitivity when your cunt clenches around his swelled tip.

he light smile spreads across his lips as he watches his load leak out of you involuntarily, painting the sheets white. he does nothing to prevent the mess, simply watching from afar dreaming of doing it again.

“love you, mommy.” he speaks quietly, gently grabbing your face on both sides to pucker your swollen lips before pressing a heavy kiss. he adores your fucked out expression, barely awoke but still conscious enough to shoot him a smile, and a honeyed, “i love you too, ryusei. ♡”

“goodnight, mommy. sleep tight. ♡”

[vixensp1ce]

fem!reader, uni au

There's a stranger in your bed, and he's fucking you better than any of your boyfriends have before.

Veritas Ratio pistons into your abused cunt, puffy and raw from his tongue, fingers, and cock. It's slender but long, almost elegant in shape, reaching so deep into you that you're nearly satisfied by him bottoming out alone.

But you're not so easily filled. And it's part of the reason why you're out on town, having finally freed yourself of your previous boyfriend, looking for a good dick to get fucked by.

But no one told you a stranger's dick would be this insane.

"Giving up already?" Everything Veritas says manages to sound judgemental and disappointed. You squeeze tighter around him, whimpering as your pussy protests, but he doesn't even crack an inch. "Slut."

He has you crumpled, exhausted, every muscle twitching from your past orgasms, and still he shows no sign of stopping.

"Can't even cum for me." Those long, deft fingers release their grip on your hair. You lurch forward with a whine of relief - at least until his hand creeps down to your cunt.

"Don't- please- ah, ah, ah~"

He rubs harsh circles into your clit. Sparks rush up into your belly, slamming you shut on his hard, hard dick, the knot ready to snap.

He groans, one of a limited range of sounds you've heard from him this night, and if it was even possible, his strokes get even faster. "Don't, my ass. Make me cum, you little bi- hrrrrrrph."

The knot unravels. "Veri, Veri, please, ah, please-"

A syrupy warmth spills out over your back, and his scent fills your nose again. You whimper, legs trembling, flashing hot and cold as your pussy spasms emptily from your orgasm.

Finally, he lets go. You collapse shakily, turning over.

He's hunched over you, purple strands concealing his expression as he ducks his head to catch his breath. There's a full moon high in the sky, and even the streets have gone quiet on this Friday evening. Or Saturday morning.

Veritas lowers himself slowly onto the mattress next to you, the only indication that he'd ever exerted himself the sheen of perspiration on his forehead. His amber eyes pass impersonally over you, roving over your room as if it were his.

That was how he typically was, you'd learnt. Veritas Ratio was indifferent, coldly analytical towards the softer parts of humanity. Even in the club, he hadn't had much to say about anything except "It's too loud in here."

He was an architecture major something-or-other, handsome in the same way his blueprints were - all flat planes and sharp angles. Veritas had been eyed by a number of girls all over campus (and professors too, so it was rumoured), but his chilling attitude toward each and every one of them had spoken its own message.

Then you'd gone out with some course friends to a club. His liquid amber eyes flashed blue, green, pink under the club lights, digging into the flesh visible just above your thigh-high boots, and you'd decided, hey, why not?

His phone buzzes insistently somewhere in the room. Veritas sighs impatiently, climbing over you to rummage for his possessions. You're too sore to move much and the sudden loss of warmth stirs up an unwelcome hint of disappointment.

You listen to him move around your room for a moment. Warm breath on your ear gives you reason to turn over.

"I have to go now," he says, face inches from yours. You jump in surprise, clutching your blankets to your chest.

"Already?" Maybe you should have expected it. "Do you need a shower first?"

He hesitates. "...That would be nice, thank you."

You wave a hand lazily in the direction of the bathroom, watching him go. "And raise the door up before you latch it!" you call after him.

You hear the brief sounds of struggle, then Veritas manages. The sound of running water starts shortly after.

You let yourself lie for a moment longer, then groan and get up. The sheets and laundry would need to be washed, the house cleaned, and your work for school still needed to be tackled.

You're in the kitchen, doing the dishes, when you hear the front door open and shut.

[heauxvibez]

Wet The Bed

warning: smut (18+)

I ain't afraid to drown,if that means im deep up in yo ocean,yeah.Girl I'll drink you down sippin' on yo body all niighhhtt

His hand glides up and down your thigh with a gentle, yet deliberate motion, each stroke causing your clit to jump. His warm breath dances across your naked body, making you weak.

Those thick, soft, and warm lips caress every inch of your skin with care, ensuring not a single spot is missed.

As his touch intensifies, your pussy clenches craving his attention but you knew to be patient. There was no rushing the Tribal Chief..ever.

Your panties are now soaked with desire, your essence trickling down your slit.

I don't want to be a minute man, baby you're just like a storm rainin' on me girl you're soakin' wet...

His rough hands skillfully roam over the curves of your body. Roman enjoyed this part of your intimacy, taking you in, drinking you up with his eyes. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, inhaling and exhaling deeply as he tried to control himself.

Your pretty brown skin glistened just as much as your pussy did. You were coated in shea butter, smelled like hot cocoa and kissed by the sun. You took his breath away without trying.

He released his bottom lip, allowing his perfect tongue to graze his bottom lip. As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but compare the sight of him to a hungry lion. His hair was wild and poofy yet you could still see the defined curls at the ends. His gaze focused as he prepared himself to eat his prey. You.

Your perky nipples receive his attention, his thumb teasing and pinching them, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. You writhed under his touch, soft pretty moans following behind every movement you made.

The contrast between his movements—rough yet undeniably sensual—made you melt. He lavishes your nipples on his tongue, each long, wet stroke sending you in a spiral. His devious eyes met yours and he swirled his tongue around your sweet bud, strings of his spit dangling between the two before he took your nipple back into his mouth. He released your nipple, spit on it, and slurped it back up.

"Oh my, Jesus.." you whimpered, slowly losing your mind. You couldn't help but bring your hands to the back of his neck, gradually making their way through his scalp as he continued this assault of your breasts.

Roman moaned, taking one hand at a time into his and pinning them at the sides of your head. If you weren't already lying down, you'd definitely be on the floor. He knew you loved shit like this, he always played into your fantasy of being dominated.

He squeezed your hands in his, keeping your arms still while he spit and slurped on your other bud. He wanted to make sure that both breasts were equally loved.

You threw your head back and closed your eyes submitting to his touch. There was no way out and you didn't know if this was absolutely torture or bliss. On one hand, you enjoyed the warmth of his tongue, the ability he had to make you feel like you were about to nut without him touching your sweet pearl. Other other hand, the pussy was begging to be touched.

I'm gon' kiss it right yeah,yeah.I'm gon' lick all night yeah,yeah.

He released your breasts of the sweet torture and released your hands from his firm grip. The soft, supple touch of his lips made it's way down the valley of your chest, your tummy and finally your navel. Roman shivered as his lips damn near melted into your soft skin.

His pearly whites delicately latch onto the hem of your panties, pulling them down with agonizing slowness, his eyes locking onto yours.

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips as the scent and sight of your arousal tightens his briefs. Your swollen clit appeared to be begging for his attention, your nectar saturated your lips and the sheets beneath you. Your wetness created a small rope from your ass to the sheets.

"Goddamn, sweetheart. This for me?" he asked, mouth-watering at the thought of drowning in your love. Roman blew lightly on your pussy while awaiting your response.

A shaky breath left your lips as you felt the cool air against your core, only a nod answering his question.

Roman raised an eyebrow at you, his lips curving into a disappointed frown. You know better.

"Hmm? Use your big girl words, I love to see those pretty lips move for me.."

Roman reaches his arms under your thighs placing them on his biceps. His hands then grab at the inner part of your thigh spreading your legs as far apart as possible, he had access to all of you.

Your whimpers saturated the air as you tried to find the words, you wanted him, needed him badly and he just refused to give himself to you.

"Y-yes, it's for you. It's all for you." you uttered, your hips attempted to thrust up so your pussy could finally meet his lips. His grip on you tightened before he finally began to dip his head towards your lower lips.

"It's only for me.." The tip of his tongue teases your erect clit, eliciting a sharp breath as your body responds to his touch.

With puckered lips, he envelops your clit, sucking softly, your taste coaxing his buds. Your thighs are guided onto his shoulders, his grip on your hips firm, anchoring you in place, ensuring there's no escape from the impending ecstasy.

Your legs tighten around his neck, urging him closer, craving more of his touch. His tongue snakes out, tracing a path between your slick folds, spreading your essence all over before returning to your pulsating clit.

Roman moaned deeply, almost whimpering himself as you unraveled beneath him. The juices that slipped onto his skilled tongue almost made him dizzy. Only you could make him drunk off of your essence, it was intoxicating in the best way. He wanted more and more and more. He lapped at your pussy with soft grunts, mimicking the actions that he did with your breast. Spitting and slurping away. You weren't sure if he was drowning your pussy or if your pussy was drowning him at this point.

You squirm beneath him, the intensity of sensation almost too much to bear as you struggle against the overwhelming pleasure. Each lap of his tongue made you want to run, escape from a feeling that threatened to consume you.

"No... no more," you whimper, your voice barely a breathless whisper. "It's too much... I can't..."

"No running allowed, baby," he growls against your heat. The warmth of his breath and the sight of your juices cascading from his lips, down to his beard had you in a chokehold. The way he was making you feel should be illegal.

Anytime you want it I'm ready and willin' to give it, I start to licking yo body you go to tremblin'

You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes fixed on Roman as he immerses himself in your essence. With a deft touch, he uses his hands to coax your legs apart, his head tilting slightly as he curls his tongue, teasingly grazing your swollen lips before unleashing a fervent slurp.

His lips pepper your most intimate area with tender kisses, his arms firmly gripping your thighs tighter than usual, almost as if he was trying to prepare both you and him for what's to come.

Roman extends his tongue, pressing it firmly against your clit and vigorously shaking his head from side to side.

"Oh God!" you cry out, the sensations overwhelming your senses. Your perfectly manicured fingers claw into the mattress, the heat of passion causing the roots of your silk-pressed hair to coil back to its 4c state.

The familiar heat builds in your stomach, intensifying with each stroke of his tongue, your moans motivating him to continue his torment.

"Fuck! I'm nutting!" you exclaim, the feeling coursed through your veins as his tongue circled and sucked on your clit violently. The sounds of his slurps stirred a feeling in your stomach, you melted feeling weak and vulnerable in his hold.

As your body tenses and your heat pulsates with release, he kisses along your trembling thighs, savoring the taste of your cum as it trickles down, before trailing kisses back up your quivering body.

Flip it around girl let me get it from the side.And can I visit all those spots you like;yo neck, yo back, yo sexy lips, booty and thighs...

He rid himself of his briefs, sighing in relief as his dick sprung from the compression. The anticipation was palpable in the air as he turned you onto your side, lifting your left leg over his waist with a gentle motion.

With a few firm pumps of his cock, he lines himself with your pussy, his thumb grazing lightly over the head, collecting the slick precum that glistens in the dim light.

Blissful sighs escape both your lips as he begins to slowly slide between your soaked folds, the sensation of him spreading your lips threatening to push you over the edge once more.

With a steady rhythm, Roman grinds his hips against yours, each movement burying him deeper inside your throbbing heat. His fingerprints leave a trail of heat on your skin as he grips your thigh tightly, his touch sending you into a frenzy.

Your hands instinctively seek out the bed frame for support as your body trembles with pleasure, the walls of your core tightening around his thickness in response to the overwhelming sensation.

As your juices coat Roman's dick, your shared passion drips down not only your thighs but also his, a tender reminder of the intensity of your connection at that moment.

I'ma put yo legs behind your head when I make you wet the bed..yeah, yeah

Your legs were now drawn near your head, granting him deeper access as the tip of his member expertly teased your most sensitive spot, eliciting a guttural cry of pleasure from your lips.

"Roman..Joe, baby. That's... th-that's..." you stuttered, struggling to form coherent words amidst the feeling of him digging your insides out.

Leaning in close, he whispered huskily into your ear,

"Is that your spot, baby girl? Hmm?"

The words sent electricity through your body. You began to lose yourself completely when he withdrew slowly, only to regain control and thrust back in with unrelenting force.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You can take it, I know you can take it.." he moaned, pulling away from your ear to watch you fall apart with hooded lids.

"Joe, stop, I th-think I'm gonna pee," you managed to protest weakly, attempting to push him away, but his grip on the mattress was firm and unyielding. It was too late now, your hips involuntarily surged forward, your back arching as waves of ecstasy washed over you, it was a feeling that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

You squirted uncontrollably around Roman's dick, your body convulsing, tears trickling the same way your juices did as each stroke he delivered only heightened the pleasure, bringing his own release closer with each passing moment.

You gazed into his eyes with a bite of your lip while pushing a soft strand of his hair behind his ear,

"Mmm, fuck this dick feels so good. Are you going to nut for me daddy?" you moaned, purposely clenching your walls around him. His body weakened as you did. His head dropped down to your neck, he panted against your ear, his hips no longer at a steady, rhythmic pace.

"Y-yes," he barely muttered out. You squeezed your walls around him once more pushing him to the edge.

He groaned deeply as streams of cum left his body.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath, his voice laced with satisfaction as he gradually softened inside you. Your own moans of contentment filled the room as he withdrew, a hiss escaping your lips at the loss of his warmth.

Breathless and flushed, you looked up at him as he rose to throw on his briefs, confused as his suddenness.

"Get up, baby," he instructed, pointing to the bed, and your eyes widened in realization as you surveyed the mess you had made.

"Oh... sorry," you mumbled, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you hastily scrambled out of bed, hiding your face from Roman's view.

Sensing your discomfort, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Hey, it's perfectly fine. It makes me happy that I could make you feel that good, okay?" he reassured you, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"I'm serious, baby. Hopefully, I can get you to do that to the next set of sheets," he added with a mischievous smirk, prompting a giggle from you as you playfully pushed him away.

"You are so nasty," you teased, a grin spreading across your face.

Yeah girl you heard what I said I'm gonna make you wet the bed

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

Wheww...is all I can say. Hope you enjoyed!

Please ignore any and all mistake, thanksssss

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @kumapassion @msbigredmachine

[spiicii]

jey uso / possessive

x fem!reader  word count → 3.7k summary → it was a cute skirt, but jey had made it clear it was too short for you to wear without him. you promised him you’d wait until your next date night to wear it, but it’s just too cute to leave in the back of your closet. surely he wouldn’t be mad if you wore it while you visited him at work?  tags → jey likes to spoil you, possessive behavior, hickies, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, light choking, jimmy is a d1 instigator, not beta read

“Whoa, whoa, where you think you’re going?” Jey’s tone was playful, his arm snaking around your midsection and pulling you closer to him beneath the sheets. 

“Babe, I gotta get ready,” you groaned, though you didn’t struggle as he pressed your body to his, his arm now securely fastened around your waist. 

“Nah, you ain’t going nowhere.” He rumbled in your ear, though you could hear the smile in his words. 

“Jey, please, I promised the girls…”

You trailed off as he reached up and captured your chin between his fingers, pulling your face close to his so he could kiss you. You melted into the kiss, allowing his other arm to wrap around you and press you even tighter against his toned chest. 

He chuckled against your mouth, his grip on you unyielding as he kept you close. 

“Whatchu even doin’ today? Why can’t you just stay here all naked and sexy for me until I come back?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Keeping your bed warm isn’t my only job, you know.” 

He leaned back to stare at you incredulously, though he was still smiling. “Oh, but wracking up my credit card bill is? That’s all you doin’ with your girls today, isn’t it? Shopping?” 

You offered him a cheeky smile. “Maybe. They just wanted to check out that new store downtown.” 

Jey shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, sure. New store. Next thing you know you’ll be going to the store next door. Then the one beside it. Then the one beside it…”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you laughed, still making no effort to leave the warmth of his embrace, your legs still tangled together under the sheets. “But you don’t have to give me your credit card. I mean, if it’s really that big of a deal…”

“Whoa, now. Ain’t nobody say all that.”

“No?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I got my own money.”

His frown at you was playful. “No girl of mine is gon’ be spending her own hard-earned money. It’s my job to spoil you.”

“You spoil me then complain that I’m spoiled,” you giggled, watching as a goofy smile spread across his face. 

“You are spoiled,” he laughed, leaning forward to press kisses against your neck. “But you right. I do spoil you. Probably too much.” 

You let out a sigh as his hands roamed your body, his lips warm and gentle against the hollow of your throat. 

“Take back the credit card then.” You breathed, goosebumps rising as his beard scratched across your exposed skin. 

“Never.” He murmured, his mouth beginning to latch onto your throat, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of your thighs. His breath was warm behind your ear, his long legs wrapping around yours like vines. 

“No hickies,” you pleaded, even as you continued to bare his neck to him willingly, not even trying to push him away. 

“Just one.” He gasped against your neck, his fingers digging deeper into your flesh as he struggled to resist the urge to mark you. 

It was a game the two of you often played. As much as you adored his marks on you, it was too hot for turtlenecks and they were a pain to cover. He always begged you anyways, some deeper, more primal instinct inside him itching to mark you as his. It was getting harder and harder to tell him no, especially when you enjoyed wearing them so much. 

“Just a small one. Not too noticeable. Please, Jey…” But your plea was cut short by the feel of his lips closing around the delicate skin behind your ear, grill nipping against you as the bruise blossomed beneath his mouth. 

You wanted to tell him to go easy, but you felt your body relax in his hold, even as the bruise deepened and his grip on your thighs became punishing. 

You whimpered and he finally let you go, his eyes dark as he stared at the bruise rapidly forming high on your neck, half hidden by your hairline. His grip on you was still tight and you knew it was taking all of his willpower not to give you another one. 

“Jey…” you breathed and the intensity of his eyes meeting yours made your body feel weak, butterflies now in your stomach. “I…I have to get up.”

His gaze was unblinking at you, almost as if he were weighing his options. You knew him too well. He was thinking about rolling you over for round two, adding more hickies to the one behind your ear and pounding into you until you were seeing stars. 

You softened beneath his gaze, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I have to go. And so do you. You agreed to meet Jimmy early this morning.” 

At the mention of his twin, you watched as Jey blinked, seemingly shaken from his faraway thoughts. His face broke into a smile. 

“He can wait.” 

You shook your head, a breathless laugh on your lips. “You’re ridiculous. Come on, let me up.” 

You moved out of his embrace and was surprised that for once he didn’t resist, allowing you to untangle yourself from his long limbs. He stared at you adoringly. 

“You’re lucky I care about my job, little girl,” he growled, watching as you stood and stretched your arms above your head. “Or else we wouldn’t be leaving this bedroom all day.” 

You giggled, shaking your head again. “If you had it your way we’d stay here forever. Except maybe to go to Waffle House.”

You tried not to laugh as he perked up at your words, the move far too similar to a golden retriever who just heard the word walk. “You wanna go this morning?”

You picked up his discarded shirt from the floor and threw it at him. “With what time? Besides, aren’t you on that juice cleanse with Jimmy?” 

Jey scowled, sitting up in the bed to lean back against the headboard. “That was his dumbass idea, not mine.” 

“You’ve barely even started it!” You chided, moving to the closet to pick out some outfits for the day. “Besides, he’ll know if you cheat.”

Jey scoffed. “No way. And I’ll bet he cheatin’ on his own anyway! That fool can’t ever say no to Whataburger.”

You laughed as you got dressed, watching him in the full-length mirror as you moved around the room. His posture was relaxed, legs sprawled out beneath the white sheets, his arm slung lazily behind his head as he leaned back to stare at you with hooded eyes. 

“Whatchu gon’ wear today?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think of this?” You held up a simple sundress and he whistled. “Girl, you better not wear that shit ‘round me. I’ll be hiking that thing up and fucking you raw.”

“Jesus, Jey!” You admonished, though you couldn’t hide your pleased smile. “Fine. No sundress. But are you gonna get up? You’ve got like ten minutes max to get out the door before Jimmy starts blowing up my phone.”

Jey scoffed. “Pshhhh forget him. I wanna see my girl try on some outfits for me.” 

As if on cue, Jey’s ringtone shattered the peaceful air of the bedroom, the sound muffled beneath the sheets. He cursed as he fumbled to look for his phone. 

“Why the hell you callin’ me, fool?” Jey answered and you heard Jimmy’s laughter echo through the speaker phone. 

“Because I know you ain’t up, fool. You gon’ be late. Again. If I didn’t call you’d be curled up in bed with yo’ girl all day.”

“He’s right, babe,” you teased, clasping on a bra. “You need to get up.”

Jey scowled as Jimmy laughed at your words. “See? Now get yo’ ass up. I’m five minutes out.”

“Man, I’m done with y’all,” Jey grumbled, but you were happy to see that he was beginning to climb out of bed. 

“And before you even ask, no, we’re not stopping for breakfast.” Jimmy continued, undeterred by his brother’s grumpiness. “I know you wanna cheat on this cleanse but we gotta stay strong, uce.”

“Get outta here with that bullshit,” Jey groaned. “My girl already said no to Waffle House.”

“Good! We still got a week to go! If you cheat you gotta start all over.”

“Like hell.” Jey muttered, grabbing some of his discarded clothing from the floor and heading towards the bathroom. You could still hear Jimmy’s voice as the two of them continued to bicker. 

Meanwhile, you were still trying to decide on what to wear for your day out. The weather was mild enough for a thin long sleeve, but not for pants. After some thought, you decided on one of the new skirts you’d bought last week. It was short, much shorter than you usually wore, and you knew it would drive Jey crazy knowing that you were out and about with it on. 

You had just finished pulling the skirt above your hipbones when you heard Jey conclude his conversation with Jimmy and walk back into the bedroom. He was dressed now, his face freshly washed and a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. 

“Hey, babe, I-” He stopped mid-sentence at the sight of you in front of the mirror. You flashed him a cheeky smile. 

“What do you think? I bought it last week. Isn’t it adorable?” 

He seemed to have trouble speaking, his eyes glued to your body, a dollop of toothpaste falling from his still open mouth onto his shirt. 

You giggled and twirled, just to tease him. “I was going to save it for date night but today’s the perfect day to wear it, don’t you think?” 

He finally removed the toothbrush from his mouth and tried to speak. 

“You…where you think you goin’ looking like that?”

You pouted. “What do you mean? You don’t like it?”

His eyes darkened. “You know exactly what I mean, little girl. Ain’t no way in hell I let you out this house with your ass hangin’ out.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It is not hanging out. It’s not even that short.”

“Not even…?” He scoffed, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to wipe the toothpaste from his shirt. “I know you ain’t for real. You know damn well that skirt is too short.”

You did know, but you liked getting him riled up. You turned your back to him to sit down at your vanity mirror. “Well I’m wearing it today. It’s cute and I like it. I’m sorry you don’t.”

His phone rang from his pocket again and he cursed, returning to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth. When he returned you heard Jimmy on the speaker again. 

“Uce, if you don’t get yo’ ass downstairs I swear to god I’m coming up there.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jey grumbled, quickly grabbing his things. “I’m coming.”

You watched as he fumbled around the room, phone still in hand as Jimmy continued to gripe on speaker. You watched him in the mirror with a raised eyebrow, unmotivated to help him find his wallet and keys. Your eyes met in the mirror and his gaze was hard. 

“You listen to me,” he growled, his finger pointed at you menacingly. ”You ain’t going out in that. You take that shit off and save it for date night. Understand?” 

“Oh, shit. What she got on, uce?” God, Jimmy was nosey as hell. 

“Man, shut up!” Jey snapped. He looked back at you. “No arguments, little girl. You go out lookin’ like that I’ll bend you over my knee when I get home. You understand?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay. Fine.” 

He seemed satisfied with your response, still frantically searching the room for his belongings. 

“Uce, we already late.” Jimmy sounded annoyed. “Our trainer’s gon’ kill us, man.” 

Jey was still frantically searching the room. “Fuck, babe, where my keys at?” 

You sighed. “They fell behind the bedside table, remember?” 

“Shit, you right.” 

Once he finally retrieved his keys, he sprinted to your side, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “See you later, baby.” 

You smiled as you watched him run back towards the door, throwing one last goofy smile over his shoulder at you. “Love you!” 

You chuckled. Jey was always a whirlwind.  “Love you too!” 

***

He forgot his juice in the fridge. Of course he had. He’d been so frazzled this morning you weren’t surprised. But you hadn’t expected him to text you asking if you could bring him something from the local juice bar downtown. And normally this wouldn’t be a problem. You and the girls were done shopping anyways and you already were downtown, but there was just one problem…

You hadn’t taken off the skirt like you promised. 

After Jey had left, you’d considered listening to him. You really had. But ultimately it was just too cute to put back in the closet. You tried to tell yourself that was the only reason why you were flouting Jey’s wishes and going out in the shortest skirt you owned. It definitely had nothing to do with the small thrill you felt knowing you were being bratty, directly disobeying him just to get him riled up. 

As you picked up his juice and drove to the training center, you started feeling nervous. He was normally used to your antics, but what if this had been a bad idea? 

It was too late to turn back now. You’d already parked and forced yourself to make the walk to the twin’s locker room. You tried to push down your nervousness, but by the time you made it to the locker room, your heart was fluttering in your chest. It took all of your courage to push open the door and head inside. 

At first, the room looked empty, but then you heard a low whistle, your heart instantly in your throat. 

“Damn, girl. Jey let you leave the house like that?” 

You let out a breath. It was only Jimmy. He was sitting in the corner, wiping his sweaty face with a towel as he watched you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Or is that the skirt he told you not to wear without him?” Jimmy’s tone was far too smug for your liking. 

You scowled. “Leave it alone, Jimmy,” you hissed, quickly moving across the room to shove the juice into his hands. “Here, give this to him.” 

Jimmy took the juice from you, though a knowing smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. “What? You don’t wanna give it to him yourself?” 

You glared at him. “You know damn well I don’t. I’m going home. Not a word to him about the skirt. Promise?’ 

“And what am I supposed to tell him when he asks why you left?” 

“I don’t know! Figure something out.” 

Jimmy laughed, but thankfully he didn’t seem too bothered. “Whatever, girl. You crazy though. Better hope he don’t catch you on your way out.” 

“Thanks,” you muttered, turning away. “See you later.” 

Before you could make it to the door to leave, you heard Jey’s familiar voice on the other side and your heart dropped at the sound. 

“Yeah, yeah, give me two seconds!” He was yelling at someone, presumably one of his trainers, before you watched in horror as the door opened and he entered. 

The second his eyes landed on you, his eyes lit up, a goofy smile already forming on his face. “Hey babe!” He sounded excited to see you. “Did you bring the juice?” 

He moved towards you, as if to give you a hug, but stopped in his tracks as he noticed what you were wearing. His eyes widened in realization, his smile quickly dimming as his gaze raked across you. You felt your ears burn, subconsciously reaching down to tug at your skirt, as if that would help cover the tops of your thighs. 

“Oh shiiiiit,” Jimmy, ever the instigator, couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You got the worst luck, girl. If you’d left just a few seconds earlier, you woulda missed him.” 

Jey’s gaze at you was positively fiery, his smile gone, as if blown away by the wind. His dark eyes simmered, his lips now set in a tight line. He took a step towards you, and you instinctively took a step back in response, unable to meet his eyes. 

“I know you not wearing what I think you’re wearing,” Jey’s tone was dangerous, but you couldn’t deny the small thrill that ran down your spine at his words. 

You cringed at Jimmy’s laugh behind you. “Damn, uce. You let yo’ girl leave the house like that?” 

God, couldn’t Jimmy mind his business for once? Jey seemed to agree. “Man, get the hell outta here.” He hissed, his fiery gaze now directly at his brother.

Jimmy laughed again, clearly amused. “Fine, fine! I’m leaving.” 

He sauntered past, a towel slung over his shoulder as he threw you a wink. “Good luck, girl.” 

You wanted to strangle him. 

When the door slammed shut behind him, Jey turned his full attention back to you. He motioned to your skirt. “What the hell did I tell you about leaving the house dressed like that?” 

You looked down at the floor, chewing on your bottom lip in nervousness. 

When you didn’t answer, Jey’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, tugging him roughly towards him. You let out a gasp, colliding with his exposed chest, his skin still slick with sweat from training. 

You didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so he reached up and threaded his fingers into your hair, tugging to force your head up to meet his gaze. Being this close to him, his eyes dark and smoldering as he stared down at you, you felt sparks of arousal shoot down your spine, your thighs instinctively closing as you felt wetness beginning to form between them. 

Jey’s hand curled deeper into your hair and he tugged again, your lips parting at the delicious feeling and a small moan escaping. He quirked his eyebrows up at the sound, his other hand still closed tightly around your wrist. 

“You fucking serious right now?” His tone was low, but you could hear the dangerous undercurrent beneath it, the sound going straight to your core. “Why’d you wear this shit? I told you not to. Answer me.” His tone brokered no room for argument. 

“I…”  You weren’t sure you could find the words, not when his hands felt so good on you, the tugging in your hair bordering between pleasure and pain. “I wanted…you to see me like this.” 

Jey’s grip on your hair tightened. “Why?” 

He knew why, the fucker, but he wanted to hear you say it. Wanted to hear you beg for it. 

“I wanted you to punish me.” The words were barely a whisper passing your lips, your cheeks turning red in embarrassment as he glared down at you. “I wanted you jealous.” 

Jey curled his lip at your words. “What’s the matter, little girl? I don’t give you enough attention? You gotta wear this shit out and about to get it?” 

You shook your head vehemently. “No, no! I wanted you to-” 

“And now every man who seen you today has seen this ass.” He released your wrist to reach around you and hike up the skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass still covered by your panties.  “My ass. This belongs to me, doesn’t it, girl?”

You nodded, leaning into him as his fingers curled deeper in the flesh of your ass. He tugged on your hair again, forcing your head back so he could press a possessive kiss to your parted lips, his tongue a hot brand inside your mouth as he claimed you. You relaxed in his hold, even as he tugged your panties down and placed a smack across the exposed skin. 

“It’s mine.” He growled against your mouth, the grip on your hair unforgiving. “All of it. And what do you do? You flaunt it all over town, letting any horny motherfucker see what belongs to me.” 

Tugging you by the hair, he dragged you across the room to the nearest chair, taking a seat and throwing you across his knee without warning. 

“Please, please,” you heard yourself begging even though you weren’t sure what you were begging for. “Please, Daddy…” 

“Don’t even try with that sweet talk, girl.” He snarled, his hand colliding with your ass with such a force that you yelped. “I told you I would bend you over my knee if you wore this shit so that’s what imma do.” 

“Please, Daddy, I’m-” He spanked you again, this time on the other cheek. “Please, I’m sorry!” 

“Too late for sorry, girl,” He snapped, continuing to abuse your ass. “You knew whatchu was doin’. You wanted this. So shut up and take it.” 

It hurt, but he doesn’t slow down, his large hand covering both sides of your ass with stinging hits. You feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, beginning to squirm in his lap until he reaches around and uses his free hand to close around your throat, keeping you still. 

“You got a safeword,” he gritted out, continuing to administer blow after blow against your reddened ass. “And you know how to use it.” 

He was right, of course. You could stop this if you wanted, but right now that was the last thing on your mind. The feeling of his hand on your throat felt too good to even think about stopping, no matter how much your ass stung. 

“But we both know you don’t want me to stop, don’t we, baby?” Jey’s words were scalding you from the inside out and an embarrassed whimper slipped past your lips. Jey let out a mocking laugh, even as he continued to spank you. “You making a mess between those legs. I can feel it. You love it when I do you like this, don’t you?” 

You wanted to protest, just to save some of your pride, but you couldn’t find the words. Not as the tears started to stream down your cheeks, small huffs of breath escaping from parted lips as he continued to rain down smack after smack against your ass. 

“You won’t be able to sit tomorrow without remembering this, girl,” he growled, his fingers still wrapped deliciously around your throat to keep you still. “And maybe then you’ll behave.” 

[mayasikeu]

沈載倫| threesome with Jake

anon's req: hi i wonder if threesome sounds ok to you, if yes, can you do jake fucking 2 girls at the same time? perhaps y/n and her bestfriend 😭 the other one is riding him while the other is riding his face 😭 i can’t take it out of my head 💔

note: sorry i didn’t know how to refer to the bestfriend so i just put pronouns?

The bedroom was poorly lit, the only light source coming from a dull lamp.

It was at late night in Jake’s bedroom, the air heavy with anticipation as three bodies harmonised together on his bed. You began straddling Jake's face as your hips grinded rhythmically against his mouth syncing in with his tongue’s movement.

Across from you was your best friend who was riding Jake's cock as her walls clutched onto him firmly, yearning to remember the feeling every inch and vein inside of her.

Sounds of heavy breathing filled the tense environment as needy moans slipped from all of your mouths.

"Fuck, Jake, you feel so good," the pleasant feeling Jake's tongue analysing every inch inside of you made you tremble feverishly.

She leaned backwards with her arms behind her back. Her breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“F-fuck”, her voice being weary with pleasure.

Jake's arm naturally found its way down and gripped onto your thighs as he pushed your entire weight onto his face, wanting to taste you as much as he possibly could. His other hand grabbed onto her ass as she bounced on his cock, coating it in her wetness. His moans became muffled under your warmth, but his actions spoke louder.

He was in control, but yet felt completely dominated by you two.

You opened your legs wider, allowing Jake better access, "I want to feel you deeper” you moaned out frantically.

Sweat glistening on Jake’s honey skin as he began thrusting deeply into her, their hips slamming aggressively into each other’s pelvis’, "Oh my god" she gasped.

The bed creaked louder and louder each time, mixing with the sounds of moans and gasps coming from you three. Jake's jaw began to feel sore as he eagerly sucked on your cunt, desperately craving the taste of your sweet cum in his mouth.

“I’m gonna cum Jake” you whined as your hands tangled in between his long black locks.

Her hands began rubbing herself repeatedly in quick circular motions while she watched you cum inside of Jake’s mouth. “Fuck” Jake cursed before placing delicate kisses all over your pulsating cunt.

You lifted yourself off Jake’s face and latched your lips onto his neck, which allowed him to shift more focus onto her. As fast as he could, he extended both of his hands out to compress her ass cheeks together while shoving his dick in and out forcefully. “I’m gonna cum Jake,” she whimpered. “Beg for it” he growled breathlessly.

“Please let me cum Jake I need to cum for you” she pleaded. “Cum for me like the good girl you are” he said with a low grunt.

It felt almost impossible for you to not slip your fingers in between your moist folds as you watched Jake fucking your best friend relentlessly.

Impaitently, you began pumping your fingers inside your aching hole. Trying your hardest to match Jake’s swift tempo despite the feeling of your hands starting to cramp up.

“You like watching me fuck your best friend? I bet you wish this was you. Don’t you, hm?” Jake teased as he watched you finger yourself helplessly.

Her grip tightened on his sheets as her knuckles whitened under the pressure. "Faster" she begged her voice beginning to crack. "Please, faster." he obliged. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed throughout the room as they both reached their peak, letting out one final moan.

(this was my first time writing about a threesome so i tried my best not to make it awkward)

[cheollipop]

okay but imagine after pussydrunk woosanhwa passed you around for sloppy seconds and thirds, you’re filled up to the brim with their cum so ofc woosan slurp it out of you and share it with you and hwa hehe <333

I'm gonna fight you. WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM- I barely survived this one your honour.

this kinda counts as a part one

nsfw under cut—minors dni

wooyoung went first, then san, before passing you over to seonghwa—all heavy limbs and sweat-covered skin. ever the gentleman, he kissed away your tears and held you close until the spasms shaking your body spaced out.

but then he was pushing his cock inside you, his lips parted in concentration as he watched spurts of cum leak out of your used cunt every time he sheathed himself inside you. your senses turned to mush, and you were left a drooling mess under the three men, unable to discern whose lips latched onto your nipple and whose fingers tweaked your clit. all you could feel was seonghwa's hard length pounding you with vigour, moving your body up on the bed with every rough thrust.

"our baby's not gonna walk tomorrow, is she?" wooyoung whispered against your jaw, his fingers tapping over your clit before going back to rubbing it back and forth.

san pulled off your nipple with a pop, kissing up you chest to nibble on your collarbone. "how does it feel, sweet girl? is seonghwa fucking you good?" he mumbled over your skin, pressing his palm down on your lower belly, groaning at the slight bulge.

"s-so good—hnngh!" Your back arched off the bed, hands flailing around to grab hold of Seonghwa's forearms. "please, hwa-"

"our dirty girl," seonghwa panted, his cock twitching between your clenching walls as he neared his release. "getting two loads fucked into her and still asking for more." seonghwa came without warning, his whole body shuddering while he emptied inside you and added to the mess painting your insides. "have some more, cumslut," he pulled out, lowering his head to watch a stream of cum leak out of your clenching hole, pursing his lips and spitting over your clit.

just as you were about to complain about not finishing, san was pushing seonghwa away and flipping you over, lifting your hips and sliding his hard length through your soiled folds. "can I have you once more, jagi?"

your hips jerked when his cockhead brushed over your swollen clit, a broken moan leaving your lips. "s-san-"

"you can take it, right? my good girl," he planted a delicate kiss between your shoulder blades, his cockhead prodding at your entrance. "what do you say? I'll breed you full of cum, have you leaking for days."

you nodded frantically at his words, pushing your hips back until his cock slipped inside you. he straightened up, groaning deeply as pleasure soared through his body. he peeked at your face, smiling lopsidedly at your fucked-out expression, drool pooling on the sheets under your head. San knew he wasn't going to last, and that the two men were going to tease him for it later, but the feeling of your cunt pulsing violently around him was all-consuming, and any thought not about you faded into nothing. he dug his knees into the mattress and held onto your hips, fucking into you with a desperate need and reveling in the squelch of the cum being pumped into you. with san's cockhead pressing into your g-spot, you quickly came undone, your thighs vibrating forcefully and your walls clamping down on his cock. the familiar warmth of his seed seeped through your abdomen, his heavy breaths blowing over your back where he leaned over you. he rolled his hips into your used cunt, milking himself of every last drop before pulling out.

falling sideways, you managed three deep breaths before you were being rolled onto your back, your legs spread wide open and a tongue licking up your slit. you jerked when it brushed over you clit, a whispered apology over your skin. wooyoung buried his head between your legs, slurping at your swollen enterance as it clenched and unclenched uselessly. he pulled away, grabbing san by the back of the neck and towering over him, angling his head upwards and using his other hand to pry his lips open with two fingers. rolling his tongue out, you watched as a blend of cum and his spit dribbled into san's open mouth.

"don't swallow," wooyoung instructed, licking the residue off his lips and signaling towards seonghwa—slumped against the bedhead, watching the two men silently interact.

wooyoung’s mouth was back on your pussy, panting like a dog over your leaking hole as he sucked out the last of their cum from inside you. your hips spasmed at the overstimulation, but your eyes were fixed on the two men beside you—san, with his legs thrown over seonghwa's thighs and his tongue down his throat, a line of cum streaming down seonghwa's chin while their teeth crashed against each other. seongwha's hand kneaded the younger man's ass, drawing him closer by the back of the neck to lick over the roof of his mouth, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed down the bitter liquid.

wooyoung's mouth pressed against yours, drawing your attention back to him. you tasted a blend of yourself and everyone else on his tongue, and he spat the wad of cum in his mouth down your throat. with a final peck to your lips, he pulled away and swiped his thumb over your bottom, wiping off the leftover translucent mixture and feeding it to you.

the two men beside you had already separated by the time you looked over at them again, now holding damp towels and water bottles, ready to pamper you for the rest of the night. cleaned up and trapped between the three of them, they showered you with kisses and praise until you drifted off into pleasant dream.

[ervotica]

Some fluff with Cassian? Maybe reader had a hard day or is just stressed and he comforts her

pairing; cassian x reader

warnings; none! just fluff & cassian and reader insulting each other lol

The town house is thrumming with energy by the time you trawl through the front door, feet dragging with every laboured step; you'd stop if not for the golden thread in your chest being tugged gently- igniting at the every growing presence of your mate- and then with more fervour as you approach the vast living room.

Cassian is sprawled in the plush armchair, a muddle of stocky limbs and corded muscle that has you sagging at the sight of him. His eyes dance with playful amusement and you follow his gaze, corners of your mouth tugging up when your own eyes latch onto Mor, waving her slender hands animatedly at Rhys, brow pinched in argumentative frustration. The High Lord only rolls his eyes at her theatrics.

You resist the urge to let yourself tumble headfirst into Cassian, instead opting for a vaguely more ladylike approach, needling your way into his warmth and digging your elbow into the hard muscle of his side until he hisses and twists to make room for you.

"Spiteful female," he gripes but lifts an arm to hook over your tired body and draw you into his chest regardless; he can feel your fatigue through the bond, your energy waning from the gruelling training Azriel forced you through for the entirety of the day.

"Fuck off," you mumble, a slurring jumble of noise that Cassian barely deciphers; Mor catches it clear as day, cackling when Cassian frowns and murmurs something about you being mean when you're tired.

You huff and close your eyes, breaths warm against the wide expanse of your mate's chest.

"I hate Az," you whine, your body curling and twining its way around Cassian when he cups the back of your head in a warm palm.

"No, you don't," Rhys chuckles, voice smooth as silk but still grating at your every nerve. You lift your head and scowl, venom dripping from your pinched features.

"I do today." You quirk a brow, goading. Challenging him to argue with you. Cassian schools his features into indifference, pushing back the amusement threatening its way to the surface.

"Okay, firecracker. Time for bed."

Your halfhearted protests fall on deaf ears as you're swept up and into his arms.

"Cassian!"

The wind hits your face, goosebumps prickling at your exposed skin when Cassian's wings flap behind you and you're thrust into the open air.

The flight is a short one, only a couple of minutes, and your complaints are reduced to a minimum under Cassian's threat of walking the ten thousand steps to the House of Wind. By the time he lands, you might as well be asleep; your arms are a vice around his neck, calves splayed over a singular forearm and rucking up the material of his t-shirt to reveal a sliver of his rigid abdomen.

You slide down the full length of his body, reluctantly parting ways to shuck off your shoes and training gear. Your eyes droop when Cassian pulls a t-shirt over your head, his knuckles brushing over your cheekbone before he nudges you towards the bed in a silent command.

You settle under the crisp sheets, watching him through hooded eyes as he strips down to his boxers and slides an arm underneath your pliant body, soft and tired from the busy day.

"I missed you today," you murmur, face tucking beneath his chin; your lips graze the hollow of his throat.

He laughs, his wing flaring up and over your body to cage you in and keep you warm. "I could feel you raging all day," he snorts. "Poor Az."

"It's his own fault," you shrug, "He pissed me off."

"I can imagine." Your eyes fall closed as you listen. "Cruel thing."

"Take that back!" you gasp, still sidling in closer to his bare torso.

"Can't take it back if it's true, sugar."

"You're lucky I'm tired," you hiss, "Prick."

He barks a roaring laugh, squeezing you tighter.

"I love you too," he coos. You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips at that.

[azsazz]

Change Your Ticket

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,264

Notes: I'm overthinking this now, I don't think I like it

_________________________________________

There’s no better way to wake up than buttery morning light drifting through the curtains, songbirds chirping outside cracked windows, and the warmth of your significant other surrounding you.

Unfortunately, that isn’t how you wake.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm, blaring its cheerful tune much too early in the morning. The sun isn’t shining in through your windows, rousing you from a deep slumber. Instead, thunder cracks loudly, drowning out the grating chimes coming from your phone, only for a second, before it sounds louder, alerting you that you have places to be.

Namely, at the airport, and not in the lovely muscular arms of your boyfriend in bed.

His cozy hold makes you want to sigh, snuggle backwards into him and sleep for a few more hours, but the blaring of your phone makes that difficult, even with the taunt of his morning wood brushing up against your backside.

Groaning, you slide from his arms. It’s a struggle, because his muscular limbs are heavy, but you manage to shove yourself from under the thick arm covered in swirling ink, stretching as far as you can in hopes to turn your phone off.

Another bout of thunder rumbles in the sky and you startle, knocking your phone over the edge of the table. It clangs loudly and you cringe, peering over your shoulder at Cassian. His eyes are shut and his chest moves up and down rhythmically. You sigh, shoulders relaxing at the sight of his bare chest, gaze snaking down his strong body to where the cuts of his hips dip under the sheets. Your mouth waters a little, but before you can make the move to slide the blankets back and get a full look, your phone sends out another screeching knell and you nearly dive from the bed to shut it off.

The time mocks you when the sound no longer does. It’s an ungodly hour and you’re hardly coherent, eyes gritty with sleep and hair curling in tangled waves around your face. You shove it back, collapsing for a moment, half off of the bed.

Warm hands search blindly in the bed before latching onto your waist, tugging you back into his solid body. You squeal as you’re so easily maneuvered, and it makes butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach.

Cassian grunts softly, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. It’s early and he’s just as disturbed by your phone as he is. Neither of you have slept much at all, and with the warmth of his body holding tightly to yours, you find yourself resting your head against his, shutting your eyes and breathing in the scent of him—a comforting freshness cut with an earthy pine—drifting back into a light slumber.

Your eyes snap open later, something rocking you to your core. Not just something, the flight you’re supposed to be on, at the airport you should be at, sitting in your window seat and missing the body of your boyfriend next to you.

Cursing, you throw the covers back, ignoring the grunt Cassian lets out as you accidentally elbow him in the chest. You lunge for your phone, but it’s not on the side table where you’d left it. Fuck, you remember knocking it off and having to lean over the side of the bed to turn off your goddamn alarm when you should’ve hit snooze. You’re going to pay now; your mind supplies drily.

Frantically searching, you find it in the pile of clothes you’d left on the floor. Lifting your jeans to tug them on, it slips, clattering against the hardwood floors again. You don’t have time to wince, wonder if the screen is cracked, snatching it up and checking the time.

Holy fuck, are you late.

Shoving the phone back into your pocket, you scramble to get ready, tugging a black t-shirt over your head from the mound at your feet. It’s pools around you but you’re in no mood to care, shoving it into the waistband of your pants and stuffing your feet into last night’s socks. You grimace as you do so, the feeling of dirty socks making your toes curl. Switching with Cassian would be better, though they’d be scrunched in your shoes and you’d be tripping over them at the airport.

The sky is still dark with cloud cover, but there is no longer frantic lighttight brightening the sky, nor rumbles of thunder that would have delayed your flight. You haven’t gotten an update about it being late due to the nature of the storm, so it must be on time.

Perfect.

The heap of blankets on the bed jostles, and Cassian’s sitting up. The fabric falls from his torso like a waterfall of white, striking against his tan skin. As much as you’d love to climb right up onto him and wake him properly, you’re in too much of a rush to allow the aroused side of your mind to take over.

“Sweetheart?” he asks sleepily. His hair is mused from where you’d had your hands buried in it last night, and he brushes it from his eyes roughly, using the hair tie around his wrist to tie it back haphazardly. Cassian blinks around the room, hazel eyes clearing as he meets your panic-stricken gaze. “Where are you going?”

“I’m late for my flight,” you reply breathlessly, hopping on one foot to slip your shoe on.

“You’re leaving already?” Cassian asks with a frown. His voice is groggy with the aftermath of sex and sleep. It sends shockwaves zipping down between your thighs. “It’s only been two days.”

You sigh, forcing your other foot into the shoe. You know it’s only been two days since you’ve gotten into town for Cassian’s match, but you have to get back to work tomorrow, there’s just too much to do.

It’s difficult when he’s in the middle of the rugby season and you have to work. It’s hard to find the time to chat or even text sometimes, but the both of you love your work and couldn’t imagine giving it up. You do what you can to be at Cassian’s games. He flies you in privately and you meet at the hotel or the pitch, cheering from the stands with the other fans of the Velairs Stars, Cassian’s rugby team. But then you have to fly back home, only to do it again the next weekend over.

It's draining, which is why you’ve overslept like a damn fool.

“I have to go,” you answer, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your carry-on sits packed by the door. “I have work in the morning.”

“Take that bag off of your shoulder,” Cassian pouts.

You groan, turning to look at him. “I can’t, Cass, I’m really late.”

Cassian slides from the bed. The duvet slips from his body, revealing the entirety of his naked body. He’s built like a Greek statue, minus the tiny cock. His tan body ripples with muscle and ink—broad shoulders to hard abs to his taut waist, down to thick thighs and a half-hard cock that twitches when your eyes roam over it.

Your cheeks heat and you turn your head away, gazing at the floor.

Cassian’s feet enter your line of vision and then his hands are on your cheeks, tilting your head up to face him.

You stare into those soft eyes, green and brown clashing like a tornado in the woods. His pink lips are turned down, the crease between his brow in concern something you never like to see on his face.

A strand of his hair tickles your cheek as he dips down, thumbs brushing soothing stripes across your skin.

“Please, don’t leave.”

Your heart cracks in your chest at the sincerity of his words. Your body slackens, tipping into his. You place a hand over his wrist, holding him just as he is you, and you let out a deep sigh. “I can’t. I really have to go.”

Cassian doesn’t respond, only tucks you tighter to his chest as if he may never let you go. You press up to the tips of your toes, catching him in a soft kiss. You can taste his yearning, missing you from miles away. The absence of him from your side, from your apartment, preferring your quaint place to his bachelor pad in the thick of the city. He’d disrupted your life in the best way, and it’s different to be by yourself in the place you’d spent so much time alone, before Cassian came rumbling in on a gust of autumn air with trophies the size of your head and rugby uniforms that never seemed to stay clean.

When you pull away you don’t stray far, placing your head on his chest. His heartbeat strums loudly, comfortingly as he places his chin onto you, hugging you tight.

And its bliss, the both of you tucked together like this. You don’t ever want to let him go but this is reality and you both have lives outside of each other, outside of this little bubble of heaven you’ve created for the two nights you were staying here. Cassian feels like coming home.

“At least let me walk you down,” he says finally.

You huff, pulling back to look up at him. He towers over you and you have to crane your neck back to meet his gaze. “As much as I would love that, you can’t. We can’t be seen together,” you remind him softly.

Cassian rolls his eyes, twining his fingers with yours as he leads you into the main room of the suite. It’s a lovely hotel, but eventually, all of the rooms start to blur together. There’s an empty bottle of victory champagne tipped over on the couch, your still half-full glass precariously perched on the edge of the coffee table from when Cassian could no longer control himself and your bubbly, giggly kisses turned into something hotter and heavier.

“I don’t care about any of that stuff, sweetheart. I just want to be able to show you off.”

“Well, I care,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not ready to tell the world yet.”

You spot your bra flung over the lampshade and grab for it, but Cassian’s quicker, taking it and hiding it behind his back with a cheeky grin.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to come get it. Two weeks, we’re playing the Sealions in Adirata.”

“Cassian,” you sigh, trying to reach around his thick torso for your bra. “I don’t know if I can make it—”

“You will,” he says, pecking you on the nose. You glare up at him but he’s grinning like a fool. “I need my best cheerleader there.”

You want to grumble that he never really can find you in the crowd. You don’t sit with the other players’ girlfriends or families because your relationship with the superstar athlete is your best kept secret. You aren’t ready for any of the drama that comes along with dating a public figure, and Cassian knows this, accepts it because he loves you.

“I’ll try,” you amend, and you don’t think his smile can get any bigger but it does. Cassian swoops down to kiss you on the lips. The eagerness takes your breath away and makes you clench your thighs together, his intrigued cock still seeking you out.

“Good,” he seems satisfied with your answer, unhooking the handle and raising it. He scoots your roller out of the way when you go to reach for it, tsking. “Let me help you with this, sweetheart.”

“Cass, we talked about this,” you repeat, “And you can’t go to the lobby buck ass naked.”

His grin is shit-eating.

“What? Afraid you might have to fight for my goods?” he wiggles his eyebrows as you wrench your luggage from his hand.

“Don’t start with this,” you answer, leaning up for one last kiss. “You and I both know that I’ll take anyone down who tries to get a look at what’s mine.”

Cassian hums against your lips, his large hands settling on your hips. “I like it when you act all possessive, sweetheart. Makes me so hard for you.”

You let out a breathless sigh, pressing even further into him, pinning his cock between your hips. Cassian bucks and you clench your thighs together, glaring up at him.

“I don’t have the time for this,” you say, sadly.

Cassian nips at the juncture of your shoulder and throat, already distracted by the sweet scent of the lingering perfume on your skin. He hums and the feeling rakes down your spine, rattling your senses.

“I’ll call you a car,” he says between open mouthed kisses that have you craning your neck to give him more room. “But please come back to bed until it comes.”

You bite your lip. This isn’t a good idea. You’re already late, and who knows how long the lines will be at security or how far your gate is. What if they’re moved up your flight?

But his eyes are just too eager, filled with the promise of one last good dicking down until he sees you again, in two weeks.

“Fine,” you give in. It’s early, maybe Cassian can get you on the next flight instead. He’s already helping you from your clothes, as much as he loves seeing you in them, they look much better on the floor. “But we have to make it quick.”

[hazzyking]

Hey kids! So you know that part 2 I'm supposed to be working on? Yeah this isn't it. But you'll still enjoy it! Lmao I'm sorry I suck at everything.

POV: You and Buggy get into a heated fight. You say something you didn't mean about his nose, so he's sleeping below deck with the crew, and you're alone in the captains quarters, and you can't sleep.

Apologize

It was one of those nights at almost 3am when your mind was racing. All you wanted was the sweet relief of sleep but your brain was running to fast. You groaned and threw the sheets to the side as you reluctantly got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. You shivered as the wind of the seas prickled your skin, your hands smoothed over the bumps and you quickly ran into the kitchen, shutting the door behind you finally feeling warmth. you quietly opened the cabinets and got yourself a mug and started brewing your favorite hot beverage, sighing in relief that no one has woken up yet, you peered out of the galley window looking up at the twinkling stars shining in the clear navy blue sky. Your nose was tickled by the smell of your beverage and your lips curled into a smile as you hummed softly, but you were violently torn from your thoughts when you heard the creek of the wood floor in the kitchen and a Familiar voice mutter "fuck"

"Hey" you said casually, turning around to lean against the counter looking at the clown infront of you. 

"H-hey. Sorry- I didn't mean to wake you" Buggy spoke nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. You giggle softly viewing his casual appearance infront of you, just a t-shirt and sweat pants. And smudged clown makeup. 

"You know if you never take that paint off your gonna get acne" you mumbled fixing your drink. 

"No one would notice with this big nose anyway" Buggy responded muttering as he opened the cabinets and pulled out a box of cereal. 

"I still think you should take care of your skin" you look at him with gentle eyes. 

"It seems like I don't really care what you think" Buggy responded, taking a handful of cereal from the box and stuffing his face with it. 

"I could help you-" you said, setting your mug down and approaching him. 

"If I said yes would you drop it?" Buggy asked. 

"Yes. Captain" you said, biting down on your lip. 

"Hm," Buggy hummed to himself pulling you close to him, with his hands around your waist. 

"I thought you were still mad at me?" You asked in a gaspy tone. 

"I can never stay mad at you" Buggy said, his groggy features turning into a smirk as he lifted you up and placed you on the counter with a plop. You giggled at his actions as his hand snaked between your legs as you spread them so he could slide in between you, he scooped you up under your ass pulling you close to him, you felt his cock rub against your thigh and you shivered. "I miss you" Buggy groaned in your ear as his lips placed butterfly kisses on the soft skin of your neck. You cooked your neck to the side giving him more ground to cover, he hummed as he continued to bite and suck on your neck, his hand moving up to grasp your brest and encourage your nipples over the thin fabric of your pajamas. Breathy moans escaped your mouth, he didn't even give you a chance to speak, his tounge and teeth roaming between your neck and coller bone, his thumb and index finger rolling your nipple while his other hand snaked under your pajamas and squeezed your ass. You gasped at his tight grip and he chuckled darkly, his hand let go of your nipple as he slid the straps off your shoulders, you shimmied your top half out of your shirt revealing your brests Buggy licked his lips hungerly as his mouth slowly made its way to your nipple, latching onto it and sucking and biting gently. You knocked your head back against the cabinet moaning at the sensation, your legs tightened around his waist as his mouth trailed lower and lower, until he was on his knees and pulling you over the counter so his tounge can meet your entrance. 

"Oh god~" you gasped out, nestling on top of his face, he moaned as licked up your juices that were slowly forming from his actions, his mouth latched to your clit as he sucked desperately for a reaction, your hand quickly gripped his messy blue hair as he sucked your clit and his fingers slowly siccorsing your entrance, you whined trying so hard not to be too loud. Buggy's blue eyes looked up at your bright red face as you panted at his actions. He smirked against your skin placing soft kisses at your inner thigh, his fingers still urging you to come. As your moans got louder, Buggy had no choice but to detach one of hands and use it to cover your mouth. You yelp as the hand squeases your face. Your eyes roll in the back of your head as his fingers and tounge drive you closer and closer to the edge. You eventually meet your orgasm. You feel like your screaming as your hand pull at his hair and your legs tighten around his face. Buggy would gladly die in between your legs, he pulls away from you, his hand wiping his face as he stands up and kisses you passionately. Your ready for round two in your shared bedroom, but he kisses you on the forehead and mutters "goodnight" against your skin, taking the box of cereal with him as he walked back below deck to sleep. 

[coneyislandzz]

lc schlatt..specifically smut. im the #1 lc schlatt fan hehehehehd

HAII OKAY sorry for the long wait i made this a little more college schlatt but still very lc!schlatt.

you met him on the train. you'd see him around before. you guys went to the same college. just enough coaxing and playful banner and next thing you knew you were splayed out under him in his dorm.

it was only his second time having sex, but of course he wouldn't let you know that. his hair was messy from the way you had tugged on it. the little formation of a mustache tickled the soft, plush skin above your lips. as it got more heated, his hands snuck up, up, up, your sweater, grabbing at your tits over your bra. he needed more. he quickly unclasped the back and helped you pull your sweater over your head.

"fuck, toots."

he feverishly latched his mouth onto one boob, the other covered by his warm hand. all you could feel is the warmth pooling in your lap. your hips buck a little, as if silently asking for more. he obliges, hand slipping under your skirt as he moves to the side of you. his breath is warm as he rubs circles over your underwear.

"you're so fucking wet, whore. are you that desperate?" he breathes out, chuckling.

"johnny, please-", your words are drawn out, desperate, as he laughs again against your skin.

he finally pushes your panties aside and dives one finger in. you yelp. he pulls out of your cunt and thinks for a second before slapping it with his slick-covered fingers. "just shut up and take it.." he commands. you nod, too fucked out to think properly. he slaps your dripping cunt over and over again, reveling in the way it made your legs shake. "dumb whore ruining my sheets...don't worry, i'll take good care of you princess." he inserts his fingers back, wringing out a moan from you. his teeth are pressed to your nect, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. he keeps thrusting two fingers in and out of you brutally he almost didn't realize you were wailing and squirted all over his fingers.

"fuck? holy shit." he gives you a minute to catch your breath before he gets you on your knees in front of him. he pets your hair as his tip hits your lips. "yeah? you gonna put that pretty mouth to work for me?" he asks so soothingly, as if the words that come out aren't lewd. he presses himself forward, pushing your head toward him until your nose hit the base. you're gagging and he slowly thrusts out. after he thinks you've eased into it enough, he's facefucking you.

"so good f' me doll god..." he moans out. it isn't long before his load is down your throat. "'m gonna fuck you now."

he lines himself up with you, breathless. before he starts, he snaps a pic of your pretty pussy drooling over his cock. his face pinches at the way you're clenching around him. his hips snaps against yours as he pins you down and you're milking him dry. tears prick at your eyes and he leans to kiss him. he slaps you for wailing. "shut up god..'m gonna cum fuck-" his thrusts come to a stuttering halt as he's spilling out of you. he collapses beside you after pulling out and cleaning you up.

you'd definitely be in his dorm again.

[2d-reality]

In The Dead of Night

characters: Leviathan, GN!MC content/warnings: Levi drops by in the middle of the night. Fluff. word count: 838 notes: Minimal editing as always lol. Enjoy!

Waking to one of the brothers crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night wasn’t unusual. If you were honest, the rarer occurrence was for you to spend an entire night alone.

The shifting of your blankets woke you. Your mattress dipped as someone settled beside you, and you waited for their next move to tell who it was. 

The longer you lie, pretending to still be asleep, the shorter your list of options becomes. Mammon and Belphie latch onto you before the blankets even settle. Satan prefers to turn you towards him so he can tuck your head under his chin. Asmo almost always wakes you with his goodnight kiss when he drops in, but he’s also pretty good about scheduling sleepovers-- one’s beauty sleep is far less effective when randomly interrupted. Lucifer wouldn’t dare risk one of his brothers catching him in a compromising position (read: Mammon sneaking photos to turn a profit), and typically simply demanded you come to his room, where he could lock and ward the door and have you all to himself. Your bed always creaked under Beel’s weight, even after being reinforced, which you didn’t hear just now. That leaves...

You tire of waiting and shift, stretching languidly to feign having just awoken. The only remaining option amongst your demonic housemates stiffens beside you, and a strangled whine pulls from his throat. 

“Levi?” you say, just above your breath, voice gravelly from your recently disturbed slumber. In the darkness, you can’t see his face clearly, but Levi starts to lift the covers from where they’ve settled over his lap and scramble out of your bed, sputtering quietly as he does so. 

“H-how did you know it was me? Do I-- do I smell? I know I-I spent the weekend binging the new season of My Mental Choices Are Completely Interfering With My School Romantic Comedy, but-- but I showered this morning, I- I promise, I'm sorry to bother you--” his voice rises as he continues, and the sheets get tangled around his calves in his nervous shuffling. You take advantage of his being momentarily trapped and reach out for the closest part of him you could reach. Your fingers curl around his bare elbow, and he sucks in a harsh breath, freezing in place. 

“You smell fine,” you assure, first, and search for the right way to ask why he’s here without triggering further panicked insecurity. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I’mfine,” he rushes, and pulls minutely on his arm. “It’snothingreally,I--” 

“Leviathan,” you murmur. “Breathe.” 

He obliges, drawing in a shaky breath, and as you release his arm, the exhale is a little smoother. 

“I don’t mind you being here, Levi. You just don’t usually come over this late. Just want to know you’re okay.”

One of Levi’s hands clutches the t-shirt over his chest. He sounds like he’s trying to say something, but it won’t come out. You reach out to him, coaxing the fist on Ruri-chan’s face to relax. He blinks owlishly for a moment, but releases, and allows you to slide your palm over his, lacing your fingers together. You can feel his palm heating up, and imagine his face is doing the same. 

“Come here,” you beckon softly, not pushing him for an answer. Whatever his reason is for being here, you’ve learned he opens up to you in his own time, once he can get all his thoughts in acceptable order. You hear another shaky breath, and slowly, Levi settles back in. You use your other hand to fix the blankets over his torso, and scooch closer, pulling your joined hands into your chest. For a beat, Levi lies beside you, stiffly. You roll your eyes and reach for his other arm, pulling it over your waist and sliding a knee between his. 

“M-moe,” he whispers. You hum, and feel his fingers tighten around yours as his other hand smooths a wrinkle over your back. 

Sleepily, you snuggle closer to his warmth, and faintly, you can almost feel more than hear his heart racing near your face. “We can talk about it in the morning if you want,” you murmur. “You know I’ll never judge you.” 

Levi’s throat closes partially over his next breath, making it sound more like a wheeze. You press a kiss to his knuckles before resting your chin over your hands and heaving a long, deep breath. Without instruction, he mirrors your action, and his body sinks further into the mattress beside you as he relaxes on the exhale. 

After a long moment, he whispers, “I’m okay now.” 

Sleep is swiftly ushering you back into its embrace with your favorite nerd tucked in so closely, and you hum softly in response. 

“I love you, Leviathan,” you manage to just barely say over your breath. As you fall under the gentle lull of his breath on the crown of your head and the waves of sleep rippling over you in time, you hear him respond. 

“I love you, MC.”

[elliespeach]

tear you apart mini chapter | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"because you need me." ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie williams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. wordcount: 1k warnings: ellie manipulates reader a bit, readers depressed, other than that nothing. this is lowkey soft. an: so sorry to do this to yall, but have this while i take my leave! short but sweet :)

a week had passed, and ellie’s plan had worked better than she expected. being with you that night had formed some sort of bond between you and ellie. you never wanted to leave her side, and ellie had to keep reminding herself to not show that she was over-the-moon about it. ellie mostly stayed at your place, allowing herself to finally tidying up the small apartment. she also got you blinds. 

you didn’t protest to any of it, you didn’t do much of anything actually. you slept, a lot, ellie waking you up for meals and to stretch your legs. but you’d always find yourself back in bed within the hour. you spoke a few words at a time, slowly like you were trying not to sob with every movement of your mouth. if ellie hadn’t known the extent of your relationship with suzanna, she’d be more concerned. 

you have barely reached out to shauna, who has been texting you every day, each text sounding more condescending than the last. ellie usually deleted them while you slept. you didn’t need to be bombarded while you grieved, and ellie knew you were in no position to talk with anyone but her. last night, you even said as much. 

ellie was finally curling into the soft sheets, after finishing the dishes from the dinner she had made for you both, which you barely pecked at. you turned over from the endless stare to the wall and looked into her crystaling green eyes, “why?” 

it was so soft, so innocently spoken that ellie choked back the lump building in her throat. her callosed hands reached up, softly brushing back hair from your face, “because you need me. because i want to.” 

the lines have been blurred, as to what ellie felt was appropriate. if it was up to her, she would kiss you until she stopped breathing but she knew it wasn’t the time. that you’d likely stop her advances and finally tell her to leave. but now that she knew what is was like to kiss you, to taste you on her tongue, to feel your hands rustling through her hair, it was torture. her own specially devised torment, one that she would endure for you. 

anything, for you.

you nuzzled into her, as you did every night. this is as far as you’ve gone with her since that night in the bar. allowing ellie to feel the warmth of your skin, but nothing further. she relished in it in, fearing that after your grief subsided, you’d discard her. no. no, you wouldn’t. 

ellie pondered in your silence, your head resting lightly on her chest, likely feeling her heart beating for you just under her skin. ellie knew she shouldn’t know about suzanna, and what she meant to you, maybe it was in her best interest to ask. casting a line out, and she hoped you’d latch onto it. 

“what was she like?” ellie said into the darkness of your room, brushing a hand over your back for comfort. you sighed, and ellie opened her mouth to apologize for bringing her up, for shattering whatever walls you had spent the last week building up. you beat her to it, and ellie was relieved when your voice was still soft, warm even. 

“motherly, in all the ways that mattered. my own mom was a wreck, cared for my siblings more but suzanna, she always made me feel like i mattered–” 

“you do matter,” 

“i know. but, to be told and to believe it is different. she made me believe it.” your hands resting atop ellie’s stomach started to fiddle with her shirt. 

“you two must have been close, then.”

“more than you know,” you exhaled with a quick chuckle. one that ellie had not heard in days, a smile tugged at her lips. “can i tell you a secret?” 

ellie prepared herself, of course she already knew your secret but hearing it come from your sweet mouth was different. you explained everything, how you and suzanna came to be the way you were, how she had made you fall in love and then discarded you when once she was done. how she toyed with your emotions but still, you loved her. ellie bit back anything she really wanted to say. 

she tricked you. she knew you felt abandoned and still pursed you, only to leave and come back as she pleased. used you for your body, your kindness. 

“i could never tell shauna, and i think hiding it from her was part of it. the fun. it sounds horrible, i know. but i really did love her.” 

ellie chose her words wisely, “i’m sure you did.” and then, an idea. “what would shauna do, if she found out?” 

“i’m never telling her–” you started, a little defensive. ellie knew she was pushing it, this conversation, but she was hopeful you’d forget it in the morning and only remember that she held you till you fell asleep. 

“no, i know. but, if she did, i mean how would she even react?” 

“she’d likely never speak to me again. i don’t think any of my friends would. i mean, i’m a homewrecker.” your voice cracked and ellie pulled you closer to her. 

“technically, you’re not. no home was wrecked by you.” because it was me, i’ll happily carry that burden for you. a yawn escaped you, and ellie pondered how you could be tired after laying in bed all day, but instead of questioning it, instead of pushing further, she nuzzled down into the bed with you. “don’t worry, your friends will never find out. get some rest,” 

so you did, feeling safe in ellie’s embrace. while you slept, ellie formulated her plan. your friends would indeed find out, if ellie had anything to do with it. your friends, especially shauna, had to go. they didn’t care about you, not in the way ellie did, not in the way you needed someone to care about you. she knew the risks, the fallout of you losing all your friends, but she’d be here for you. she would be enough for you, she’d make herself enough.

-----

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