#there are not enough words to describe how fucking much i love them all

[gumified]

FREAK IN THE SHEETS !

pairing: choso kamo x fem!reader

summary: who knew the younger quiet and shy colleague you had a crush on was such a freak in the sheets.

content: 7.8k, office au, fluff, smut, big dick!choso, degradation, praise, dirty talk, overstimulation, breast play, creampie, dumbification, choking, dacryphilia, cunnilingus (fem. + male. receiving), fingering, squirting, reader does pass out in the end, choso likes to embarrass you

note: this, i fear, is absolute gold and i just absolutely ADORE this, please show this lots of love, i beg <333 this has not been proof read so very sorry if there's typos!

It’s the same onslaught of work every single day. Sorting papers, filing documents, arranging meetings. There’s nothing new in your normal 9 to 5 day. You never thought that all your years of education would lead you to a boring office job stuck slaving away but here you are. Despite all the tiring work you had to face paired with overnight stays at the office, you still made sure to put all your effort into it, after all that really was the only way to climb the corporate ladder. 

So when Choso Kamo was newly employed you didn’t think the newly graduated university student would last more than two weeks. He was all cute and meek smiles, innocent eyes that watched everyone in the office as they worked. His voice had been quiet, barely above a whisper when he had introduced himself. You had seen the way he fiddled with his sleeve as if he was too nervous to look up at everyone in the room.

Yet as the weeks passed, Choso stayed. He wasn’t the best worker but he did enough to stop the nagging of the higher ups. He wasn’t hard working per se but he wasn’t lazy. He was just…mediocre. 

“Y/n where do you want these documents again?” Choso’s soft voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up at the man. His hair fell into his eyes, a habit that you had noticed. “I’ve finished printing them out, do you want me to sort them for you?”

You offer him a smile. “That’d be great Choso, thank you so much.” You don’t fail to notice how his cheeks dust in a light pink and he hurriedly stutters out an okay before rushing away. 

“The kid’s whipped for you.” Satoru scoffs from beside you and your head whips around to see his face looking over your cubicle wall. His fingers are splayed across the surface, eyeing Choso across the room. “He definitely wants to fuck you.”

“Fuck off ‘toru, not everyone’s like you.” You roll your eyes as you push him back to his desk. “And he definitely does not want to fuck me.”

Your friend snorts as he sits down, leaning back against his chair. “Tell that to those lovesick eyes he constantly gives you, not to mention how he’s only ever helping you out. It’s like he’s your personal assistant.”

Your face heats up. It was true that Choso liked to help you with your work, he would often offer to finish any paperwork you had left and he would always get you your morning coffee. He was helpful, yes of course, but it wasn’t like you didn’t help him back. 

“I can see those gears turning in your head.” Satoru sits up, shoving his face close to yours and you jolt away. “Why? Thinking about a certain someone?” There’s a shit-eating grin on his face and you want nothing more than to slap it off of him.

“Choso’s a sweet kid, just leave him alone Satoru.” You glare at your friend. “Plus he’s younger than me-”

“Yeah by like 3 years Y/n.” Satoru laughs as he sweeps his hair out of his eyes. “And you’re both adults, there’s no shame in dating someone younger than you.”

Once again your body erupts into flames, caught off guard by his bluntness. “Yeah well I know that, it’s just, well I mean.” You pause thinking how you were going to say the next words. There were so many words you could’ve used to describe Choso Kamo, he was kind, caring, and intelligent. “Well ‘toru he just looks so innocent and, you know, pure. I don’t think he’s very experienced in…sexual encounters.”

Satoru guffaws very loudly and you’re immediately on edge, looking around to make sure no one heard the sound that just escaped his lips. 

“You know you can just say you think he’s a virgin Y/n.”

“Well I don’t want to assume-”

“You just did.”

“Shut up Satoru.” 

You groan at his teasing, burying your head in your hands. It’s true that Choso’s only three years younger than you and that definitely isn’t a problem just as Satoru had said. But he was also the same Choso who would stutter when giving you your coffee and would trip over his own feet. Sure, he was really really pretty and you can’t deny that he definitely was attractive.

There’s no problem with being a virgin and you’d never judge someone for being one. It’s just that, well, you were into some kinky shit, not that anyone needed to know. You often found that your previous partners couldn’t exactly satisfy you the way you wanted and it often left you faking orgasms just to get out of the situation. No one really fucked you like you wanted and Choso, who was just so gorgeous, didn’t exactly exude the dominant partner you were after that didn’t stop your heart from pounding whenever you saw him though. 

“When you guys fuck you owe me a drink.” Satoru whispers in your ear and you lift your head, throwing him an annoyed glance.

“We aren’t going to fuck.”

“Sure Y/n sure.”

As the hours continue to drag on you find yourself growing more and more tired. The screen in front of you jumbles in a pixelated mess and you force yourself to redirect your focus to your work. It’s hard to do with Satoru’s constant distractions and your mind tumbling through your own thoughts. It’s not a particularly busy work day and you sort through the same paperwork and do the same jobs you’ve been taught to do for so many years. 

Some reason your mind keeps drifting back to what Satoru had said and then it would drift to Choso. When you had first met him he had seemed nice enough. He would always smile shyly whenever the both of you locked eyes, offering you a small wave to say hello. You knew that Satoru was right, Choso did like you and you would never tell Satoru but you did like Choso back. It’s that thought that plagues your mind for the rest of the day.

Choso returns to your desk a little later with the documents neatly sorted and organised. He hesitates for a moment, and you notice how he glances around, probably ensuring no one else is watching.

"Um, Y/n." He begins softly. "I was wondering if you needed any help with the meeting preparations for tomorrow?"

You look up at him, surprised by his words. "Oh, thank you, Choso. That would be really helpful." 

His eyes light up at your response, and he nods eagerly, moving to your side to assist. As you both work side by side, you can't help but notice the small, almost imperceptible ways he steals glances at you. It’s endearing and slightly amusing, but you brush it off, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand. The meeting preparations take up most of the afternoon, and by the time you’re finished, the office is nearly empty and the sun’s already setting.

"Thanks again, Choso." You say, gathering your things. "You didn’t have to stay this late to help me."

He blushes slightly, looking down at his feet. "It’s no problem, really. I’m happy to help."

You lead the way to the elevator, Choso trailing along behind you. The ride down is silent but certainly not uncomfortable and the question that has been in your head for so long continues to repeat itself over and over again. You sneak a peek at the man beside you and you see the way he’s watching his phone, scrolling through what you assume are messages. Your eyes fixate on his hands. The long fingers that touch the screen, veins travelling up his arms. You find yourself imagining different scenarios that his hands could be in - intertwined with yours, tangled in your hair, stuffed in your-

You shake yourself free from the lewd thoughts, feeling your own cheeks burn at the mere implication. You gulp, feeling your heart racing. This is Choso Kamo, your junior, your colleague. This was the guy who probably has a massive crush on you and here you are, ogling at his hands.

There’s a soft ding as the elevator reaches the ground floor and you straighten yourself up, ready to leave and hop into a very cold shower. You watch as the doors slowly open and Choso lets you get out first, following closely behind you. He looks at you for a second and you wonder if he knows you’ve just been daydreaming about his hands in very inappropriate scenarios. 

"Y/n, I…I wanted to ask you something." His voice is steady but tinged with nervousness. "Would you like to grab a coffee sometime? Outside of work, I mean."

Satoru’s smug grin flashes in your mind and you brush his words out of your head. Hanging out with Choso isn’t something bad or taboo. Plus it didn’t have to be a date, it’s simply two colleagues hanging out. You feel your own heart betray you when it flutters at the thought of being alone with Choso. 

"Sure, Choso. I’d like that." You offer him a soft smile and you immediately notice the way his eyes light up. You can see the tension ease in his shoulders and the relief that washes over him. It’s cute.

"Great! I’ll, um, I’ll text you the details?" He hands you his phone to put your number in and you do. He grins when he gets it back, smiling at the screen adorably. 

“Bye Choso, text me and I’ll let you know when I’m free.” You wave him goodbye before leaving to get back to your home. 

That night as you lie in your bed you force yourself to close your eyes to sleep but it proves to be impossible. You stay up thinking about him, Choso. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend and he definitely likes you. There was no harm in going on a date with him. You continue to toss and turn, groaning as you slam your face into your pillow. You know you have to get some sleep otherwise you’d be too tired to go to work the next day. So you will the thoughts to go away, focusing on your breathing until, slowly but surely, you drift off to sleep.

The week goes by quickly, passing in a blur of meetings, deadlines, and the usual office chaos. You notice that Choso’s more of a bumbling mess around you than usual and you can only think that it’s because of your upcoming date that he’s so nervous. At the coffee machine one morning, you catch him staring at you, his eyes wide with a mixture of admiration and anxiety. When you smile at him, he nearly drops his coffee cup, fumbling with it in a way that makes you chuckle softly.

Satoru notices too, not failing to constantly question you about it and you deny everything. There’s no need for him to know your personal business after all.

The weekend comes quicker than expected and now here you are, waiting patiently for Choso to turn up. He had asked you to meet him just outside the station, stating his apartment wasn’t far from it, and you guessed you were a little early considering how he hadn’t shown up yet. You check your phone, noting that you’re still a few minutes ahead of the agreed time.

You can’t seem to stop your pounding heart as it races uncontrollably and you force yourself to calm down. There’s millions of butterflies in your stomach, fluttering about and crashing into every single organ. It’s been a long time since you felt this nervous for a date. 

Just as you’re about to check your phone again, you spot him. His hands in his pockets as he looks around like a lost puppy before breaking into a grin when he sees you. Your brain short circuits when you see what he’s wearing. You had gotten used to the smart clothes and suits he would wear in the office and seeing him in baggy jeans and a graphic tee has your mind spinning. You never thought you would find someone so attractive in casual clothes until now.

“Hi Y/n, sorry am I late? I hope you haven’t been waiting for long.” His voice is still the same soft shy tone and you realise it’s a stark contrast to the dark clothes he wears. “Did you get here okay?”

“Yeah I did.” You smile. “Don’t worry I haven’t been waiting for long, should we get going?”

He nods eagerly and your heart jumps at the gesture. You fall into step beside him as he leads the way, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily. It’s not hard to talk to Choso and you find yourself growing more and more comfortable around him. There are times you catch yourself staring at the way the corners of his lips turn up and how his eyes seem to twinkle. Whenever you talk his eyes are always trained on you, listening attentively to every word you say.

Eventually, you arrive at a charming little café that Choso had mentioned earlier. It’s cosy and inviting, with warm lighting and a comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. You both find a table by the window, giving you a perfect view of the street outside.

As you settle into your seats, Choso looks at you with a smile. "I hope you like this place. I thought it had a nice atmosphere."

"I love it.” You reply genuinely touched at his thought in his choice of location. 

You order your drinks and some pastries to share, and the conversation continues to flow effortlessly. He shares stories of his days in university and the both of you laugh at shared experiences at the office. You didn’t think you would have as much fun as you were having and you certainly didn’t expect to fall for him even harder. You catch yourself admiring the way he speaks, the way his hands move as he gestures, and the way his eyes light up when he talks about something he loves.

Choso has always been attractive but as the day progresses you see him in a new light, one that has your heart fluttering and your cheeks heating up whenever he looks at you with those dreamy eyes.

At one point, he leans forward slightly, his expression earnest. "Y/n, I really enjoy spending time with you. You’re so easy to talk to, and I feel like I can be myself around you."

Your heart swells at his words, and you smile warmly. "I feel the same way, Choso. I’m really glad we’re doing this."

The day carries on like normal and though it only consists of the two of you talking it still makes heat rush to your cheeks and your heart pound. The feelings inside of you aren’t deniable and you definitely know that after this you weren’t going to be able to resist going on another date with Choso. 

A light drizzle starts to fall, quickly turning into a heavier rain and you kick yourself for not checking the weather earlier. The both of you look at each other for a second before laughing at the sudden change in weather.

"We should get out of this rain." He says, voice loud enough to be heard over the sound of the raindrops. "My apartment isn’t far from here. Would you like to come over until the rain stops?"

You hesitate for a moment, but the thought of spending more time with him is too tempting to resist. "I'd love to."

He leads the way, and the two of you hurry through the rain. He makes sure that you’re okay every few minutes and you reassure him every time with a smile. By the time you reach his apartment, you're both soaked. Choso fumbles with his keys for a moment before unlocking the door and ushering you inside. His apartment is warm, a stark contrast to the cold atmosphere outside. 

Choso quickly grabs a couple of towels from a nearby closet. "Here, dry off." 

“Thanks.” You take the towel he gives you, wrapping yourself with it so you can feel some heat.

“You can sit down. I’ll go make us something to drink.” He smiles at you as he gestures to the couch.

You nod, taking a seat and watching as he moves around the small kitchen. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing him in his own space, relaxed and at ease. When he returns with two steaming mugs, he sits down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brush. You take a sip of the drink, letting the warmth spread over your tongue. The two of you continue to talk and seconds turn into minutes turn into hours. When you finally look at the clock on the opposite wall it reads well into the evening. 

Choso locks his eyes with yours and they flicker to your lips for a second before they’re on your eyes again. He leans in closer and you hold your breath, the tension tangible in the air. The room seems to hold its breath as he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "Can I kiss you?" He asks softly, his eyes searching yours for permission.

“Yes.” You whisper back as you try to steady your beating heart. “Please.”

He leans in slowly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is tender and sweet. You can feel the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips. It’s gentle and slow and you smile at the shyness of it all. The both of you eventually pull away and he watches as you try to catch your breath. 

“Stay for longer?” Choso’s words are innocent to you but you miss the flicker of desire that passes quickly in his eyes. You nod, heart pounding in your ears.

His lips crash onto yours once more, this time much more powerful and dominant. His hands circle around your waist, pulling you close to his body and you feel your own body heat up at his touch. You let out a yelp when you feel his tongue enter your mouth, tangling with yours and there’s a mixture of salvia as he continues to kiss you vigorously. You’re confused where this is coming from and you force yourself to break away. 

“What is going o-on...” You stutter out, mind reeling from the passionate kiss you just shared. 

There’s a string of saliva at the corner of Choso’s mouth and he smirks, lifting his thumb as he wipes it away. His eyes darken as he pulls you closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You feel his hot breath against your neck and you try your best to stop your knees from buckling at the sensation.

“You’re so pretty you know that?” Choso’s voice is deep and it’s different to the shy tone he so normally speaks with. “You’re always so nice to me, always letting me help you, always such a good girl.”

His words aren’t anything too lewd but it has wetness pooling in between your legs. You look up, eyes locking with his and you see something you haven’t ever seen. The usually meek and timid Choso you’re so used to seeing wasn’t there anymore. Instead you see a man oozing with dominance, towering over you and you resist the whimper that begs to escape your lips.

“I want to fuck you so bad Y/n, been trying so hard not to bend you over your desk and fuck you silly in front of everyone.” He whines and for a moment you see the shy man you’re used to but the devilish grin returns on his face and you can’t deny that you love it. “Can I fuck you Y/n?”

The mere idea is so enticing. You know you shouldn’t but Choso’s so addicting. You can still feel the ghost of his lips moving frantically against yours. He leans closer to you, pressing his body to yours and you gasp when you feel the outline of his cock. It’s big, too big even. You look up at him, eyes glossy and hazy. 

“Yes.” You whisper. “Yes please fuck me Choso-”

Your words are cut short when he kisses you again. His hands are everywhere and they find a place on your tits. He gropes your body, hands climbing under your shirt to fondle with your soft skin. He moans into your mouth, tongue invading your own mouth. You try your hardest to keep up but you easily fall behind. His movements are swift and powerful, mouth moving against yours feverishly. 

Choso cups your face with his hand. He pulls away for a second and you pant, breathless. His thumb replaces where his tongue had just been and you see the silent command in his eyes and you suck. He groans at the sight and you feel your panties grow even wetter at the beautiful man. You let your tongue circle around his thumb, sucking harshly as you look up at him with lustful eyes.

“I heard you the other day.” Choso has a smirk on his face and you struggle to remember what he’s referencing. “Thought I was a virgin did you?”

Your eyes widen as you recall the conversation you had with Satoru. You swear no one was close enough to hear what the both of you were talking about but clearly you weren’t careful enough. Embarrassment fills your body and you immediately pull his hand out of your mouth, getting ready to apologise. 

“Nu uh.” Choso pouts mockingly, shoving his fingers into your mouth. “No use apologising now Y/n, you already hurt my feelings.” You feel a bit of your soul die at his words and you can’t help but feel bad at what you were gossiping about. “Don’t worry though, lucky for you, I’m definitely not a virgin.”

His voice is a deep seductive drawl and you can’t say anything, not when his digits were in your mouth. Despite the situation you find your body heating up at what’s to come. This is a side you never thought you would see from your colleague but you aren’t complaining. Choso moans when he sees his saliva coated fingers when he removes them from your mouth. Your mind is already foggy with lust and you continue to pant.

“I’m gonna let you off this once okay Y/n? But you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” His eyes are fixed on yours and you melt under his touch. All you can do is nod, words failing you. He smirks, hands caressing your cheek gently and it’s a contrast to the dirty words that leave his mouth next. “Good, now get on your knees and suck slut.”

You don’t need to be told twice as you drop to the floor, legs sprawled out on the floor as you open your mouth. Choso laughs at your desperate figure, tangling his hands in your hair and he pulls your head back. You moan at the painful feeling as he pulls on your roots. His bottom lip is in between his teeth as he watches you submit so willingly. He pulls out his cock and you almost drool at the sight. It’s so pretty just like Choso. It’s got length as well as girth but your eyes are fixated on the fat mushroom head he has. You didn’t think you would ever be staring at Choso Kamo’s cock yet here you are.

Choso chuckles at your reaction and he brings his cock to your face and you feel its warmth and it shoots desire straight to your pussy. The tip is a flustered pink and you moan at the sight. You open your mouth, letting your tongue glide across his length. You savour the taste of his pre cum. He stares down at you and you see the way his own lust clouds his eyes. 

“Fucking filthy aren’t you?” Choso grins and though it’s a smile you’re used to seeing now you know there’s an underlying meaning to it. He pulls your head back and he forces your jaw to open wider as he slams his cock into your mouth. You scream at the sudden action and your throat constricts around him, causing Choso to let out a low growl. “Go on. Show me how sorry you are.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as you bob your head up and down. Choso watches as you stuff your face full with his cock. You look so pretty and he tilts your head up to look at him, watch as you suck him off. You’re a slobbering mess on his cock, eyes half-lidded as you continue to take him down your warm throat. Choso lets out a choked moan when he feels your tongue swipe over his tip, swirling around the sensitive area. 

“F-Fuck Y/n.” He stutters out breathlessly and you feel your heart pound at the reaction you manage to elicit from him. You repeat the gesture that has him seeing stars and he grips your head. “Nasty fucking mouth you have there.”

His dirty talk fills your ears and all you can do is moan helplessly. Choso thrusts his cock and you gag as it hits the back of your throat. The delicious noises invade your senses and you drool over his cock like a bitch in heat. Your eyes are glossy as tears gather and you blink, letting them fall freely down your face. You mewl as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. The sound has Choso moaning in approval.

He doesn’t let you rest and before you know it he’s abusing your tight little throat, fucking his cock in and out of you harshly. All you can do is kneel, mouth hanging open as you let him use you. You become a mess, saliva dripping from your lips as you look up with lustful eyes. There’s something so seductive about the man above you, the man who you thought was a shy timid virgin. How wrong you were.

“C-Chosoo!” You make a muffled noise around his cock, panties already soaking. You’re sopping wet and you want nothing more than to get fucked dumb by him. Your hands move down slowly, ghosting over your pussy. You know that you shouldn’t but you can’t help but press against your clit. You rub cricles as your throat gets fucked viciously. 

But before you can continue your own pleasure Choso’s tugging your head back once more and you see the angry glare he sends you. “Touching yourself really? Guess you aren’t that sorry are you?” He snarls and you whimper. Above you he seems so scary and mean but it only turns you on even more. 

He doesn’t warn you as he cums. His cock throbs in your mouth and your eyes can only widen as he spurts hot thick cum down your throat. It’s sticky and you feel it spread across your tongue and you savour the sweet taste. Choso groans at the sight as he dumps his load into your mouth. You look so perfect, saliva and cum trickling out of your mouth, eyes so drowsy and fucked out. You swallow every drop he gives you eagerly and when he pulls out your mouth is still hanging open as if you were asking for more.

“Good for nothing slut.” Choso grabs your body, forcing you to stand up as he kisses you. His tongue pushes against yours and he sucks, tasting himself. You collapse limply against his body, hands gripping his shoulders. “Don’t think I haven’t forgotten, you’re gonna have to prove yourself even more now since you decided to touch yourself. Fucking whore, that’s what you are, a whore, say it.”

“I’m a-a whore, I’m a filthy whore.” You repeat back the words he throws at you and Choso smiles. His lips brush against yours and you stare into his pretty eyes. “Please.” You beg. “Please Choso wan’ you to fuck me, n-need you so baddd.”

You see the way a cocky smirk spreads across his face and you know he likes the words you say. He’s leaning in towards you, licking along your collarbone and up the vast expanse of your neck. You gasp at the feeling of his tongue and his lips as he nips at your skin. He sucks harshly, leaving red marks along your flesh. Choso’s arms grab your thighs and you squeal as he lifts you up. His muscles bulge and you watch as he picks you up with ease, lips still attached to your neck. You grip onto his shoulders as he carries you to the bed before throwing you down. 

You squirm under his gaze and you watch as his eyes trail carefully over every little detail of your body. His hands land on your stomach, warmth seeping through your skin and he drags it up further and further until he reaches your neck. You see something dark snap within him and Choso squeezes around your throat cooing as you let out a strangled moan.

“Remember when we were in that elevator together angel?” You faintly hear his voice as you succumb to the pleasure. “Thought you were being so careful but you were staring at my hands weren’t you, imagining dirty things.”

You whimper at his accusation, glossy eyes looking back at him. You mutter out a breathy apology but Choso smiles wickedly as he leans forward, whispering right by your ear. “No need to apologise baby, my hands are all yours.”

There’s a distinct sound of fabric ripping and you gasp when you feel the cold air hit your pussy. Choso’s hand is still around your throat and you feel the pleasure shooting up to your head. His fingers press against your sopping core, circling your puffy clit slowly. He slides through your wet folds and the feeling has you choking back a sob. You know he’s being a tease and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

“C-Choso, hnghh, please please. Stop t-teasing.” You beg, tears streaming down your face as he pinches your sensitive clit. You feel his fingers edge closer to your hole, narrowly missing the spot you know will have pleasure coursing through your veins. “Wan’ you so bad, need you please please please!”

“Fuck you’re so cute.” Choso’s grip on your throat tightens. He finally slips in two fingers and you throw your head back, letting out the moan you've been holding back. “You’re so so cute, wanna fuck you stupid.”

You writhe under his grip, body convulsing as he thrusts his digits in and out of you. You’re already embarrassingly close and you can’t hold back as you scream his name over and over again like a mind-numbing chant. Choso curls his fingers and he groans when he feels your velvety walls squeeze around him. You whine as he hits the spot you’ve been waiting for, your toes curling at the pleasure that wracks through your body.

“Found it.” Choso murmurs against your skin, hot breathing burning you. His cocky smirk never leaves his face as he continues to abuse your little cunt, hitting the same spot over and over again. “Cum f’me baby, show me how much of a desperate whore you are, c’mon.”

It’s completely humiliating how quickly you release all over his fingers just at his words. He releases his grip on your neck and you heave in a breath. Your pussy spasms around his fingers and Choso grins as he watches liquid squirt from your pussy. He never stops thrusting in and out of you, enjoying the wet noises that mingle with the onslaught of moans that fall from your lips.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Choso t-too much, ‘s too much nghh.” 

“Baby fuckkk, you’re gorgeous.” Choso pulls his fingers out of your pussy, watching as you lie limply, sprawled out on the bed, trying your hardest to catch your breath. He cups your pussy with his hand feeling the way it throbs. “This cutie’s so loud f’me, who knew you had such a dirty side to you hm Y/n?”

You can’t respond, too fucked out from your orgasm to even formulate a sentence. The Choso Kamo in front of you wasn’t the one you had spent the last couple of months seeing in the office. The Choso Kamo in front of you was an insatiable beast. You blink wearily and you finally manage to focus your eyes. Choso drops a kiss on your nose, hands stroking your body gently. 

“My Y/n’s so cute, so so cute.” He mumbles and you feel your heart race at his words. His body presses up against you and you freeze when you feel his hard cock graze your pussy. Choso notices immediately and he locks his eyes with yours and you see the mischief that lies there. “You didn’t think I was done with you did you? Oh you really are adorable.”

You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out as he shoves his fat cock into your pussy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your gummy walls take him in. He’s not slow and he’s definitely not gentle. Each thrust is harsh and unforgiving. Choso fucks into you hard and you grip the sheets tightly, sobbing at the overstimulation. 

“More, p-please more, need you s-so bad, please c-choso.” 

“More?” He grunts at your pathetic pleas. “Such a greedy whore aren’t you? If you want it so bad, take it.” 

Another scream is ripped from your throat as he increases his pace, rigorously pounding into your spent pussy. He moulds you to fit his cock, fucks you open as you cry and sob. Choso loves the sound of you begging, he loves the sound of your dripping cunt as he slams his hips against yours over and over again. He groans as he captures your lips in a kiss, sucking on your tongue as he swallows each and every one of your delicious moans. 

Your hands reach above you, pulling Choso closer to your body and your sharp nails rake his back. You claw at him like some animal in heat and you dig your nails into his skin as he fucks you. Choso hisses at the pain but it only turns him on more. He smirks at your fucked-out state, loving the way your mouth is open, tongue lolling out. He loves the tears that fall from your eyes and he leans forward to kiss them from your face.

“You feel so, hah, feel so good.” Choso pants, cock ploughing into you feverishly. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you for? Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to split you open on my, hnghh, cock - fuckk!” 

You whimper at his words, your own unable to leave your lips as you continue to moan. Choso lifts your leg, placing it above his shoulder as he snaps his hips to yours. You try to find anything to hold onto as you feel your pussy constrict tightly around his throbbing cock. 

“Ch-Chosooo!” You whine as he stretches you open. Every single slight movement is keening with pleasure and you feel your toes curl as you pant for air. “I-I…Choso ‘m gonna cum!”

The words leave your mouth for a second and everything comes tumbling down as the knot in your stomach explodes and you convulse around his cock. Choso chants your name, urging you to release all over him, to make a mess around his cock as he fucks you. You sob pathetically, pussy gushing as you feel the sheet beneath you grow even wetter. 

Choso doesn’t stop his harsh movements and not even a second after you cum you feel another orgasm build up within you and you squeal as it comes crashing down again. You’re a babbling mess at this point, crying desperately for him to slow down as you’re fucked absolutely stupid on his cock. He flips you around so that you’re on top and you nearly collapse if it isn’t for the tight grip he has on your hips.

Choso’s smirking at you, eyes dazed as he watches you squeeze around him. “You’ve been dying for my cock haven’t you? Look at how pretty we look together?” He gestures to your pussy and you feel your cheeks flare with heat at the erotic sight. “C’mon angel, fuck yourself on my cock f’me.”

You’re taken aback by his words and you feel the heat crawling through your cheeks once more. It’s humiliating the way he makes you bounce on his cock as he watches. His eyes are trained to your pussy as it takes his length, inch by inch. You’re embarrassed beyond belief as you press your hands against his hard muscle, pushing yourself up and down him. Choso only eyes you cockily, loving the way you’ve suddenly turned shy.

“Nghh, h-hah hah, ah!” You squeal as you feel his hands cup the back of your thigh right below your ass. He reaches his other hand to grope your tits, playing with the nipple in between his fingers, pinching and twirling the sensitive bud with practised ease. 

“Woah angel, you’re clinging onto me so tightly.” His words are laced with smugness and you lift your head to see his heart-shaped pupils watching you. He’s admiring every inch of your skin as you fuck yourself on him desperately. “You can do s’much better than this Y/n, c’mon baby, work that ass for me, hm?”

You try your best to bounce on him but your legs are so tired and you’re running out of breath quicker than ever. Your pussy is beyond aching and yet you still feel the desire to be fucked stupid in your body. “C-Can’t- Choso, hnngh, can’t really can’t!” 

“Hmm, you get tired too easily Y/n.” Choso sighs as he settles both his hands on your hips. 

You gasp when he sinks you down onto him. “You’re s-so…so mean-”

“What’s mean is you being so fucking cute and not letting me fuck you in the office.” 

He slams you back down again and this time you throw your head back, screaming with pleasure. His grip is tight and hard and he splits you open perfectly on his cock over and over again until you’re moaning like it’s the only thing you can do. You sob for him to slow down and both of you know that’s truly the last thing you want.

“Slow down?” Choso sits up and you feel him reach deeper inside of you. His fingers play with your clit and you mewl. “Nahhh ‘m not gonna do that baby.”

It’s too quick to process and he’s already got you pressed down into the mattress, ass in the air. His touch is sure to leave bruises as he squeezes your soft skin, loving the way it ripples as he plunges in and out of you. You’re sobbing into the sheets now, pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper. All you can do is let out strangled moans and hiccups as you find every rational thought leaving your head. 

“I love you so much Y/n.” Choso moans as he fucks your harder, his chest pressed agasint your back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It’s addicting. The words that leave his mouth are like poison, tainting you and you only accept them gratefully. You feel your heart flutter at his confession despite his unrelenting fucking. You attempt to turn around and Choso grabs your face to face him, kissing you passionately. 

“I love you so much Y/n, you’re mine, understand?” 

You look at him with foggy eyes, saliva dripping from your chin. “Mhmm! I love you so much t-too Choso, so much hnggh!”

Your words only make him pound into you faster. He’s a feral beast and it’s almost like his cock grows bigger inside you and you feel him throb painfully. He’s so so big and you scream into the mattress unable to do anything else. Your body’s so tired yet Choso picks you up as he grabs your throat, hips slapping against your ass repeatedly. 

“Gonna cum into this slutty pussy yeah? You’re gonna be my nasty cumslut, all mine to use.” You sob out in agreement, pussy convulsing around his cock as you cum again. Choso moans in your ear as you squeeze around him. Thick gooey ropes of cum shoot into your cunt and you feel yourself get filled right to the brim. “G-God Y/n, you’re mine, mine mine mine!”

It’s an overwhelming chant as he keeps his cock inside you, spurting hot cum. You gasp at the warm feeling as you feel him cum inside you. It’s sticky and a mess when he pulls out and you’re left lying on the bed, slumped and exhausted, pussy clenching around nothing. Choso bends down to attach his mouth onto your cunt and you squirm, hands gripping his black locks as you try to push him away as he overstimulates your clit.

“W-Wait n-no hnghh!”

Choso only coos at your cuteness, as he flattens his tongue on your folds before licking you clean. “Don’t worry angel, just making sure everything’s inside you.” It’s dirty and downright embarrassing but you whimper at the lewd sight. 

You find yourself panting for more air and your lungs feel as though they’re burning. Your vision starts to blur and Choso’s calls for your name seem more and more distant as inky black dots come into your sight. Before you know it you’re out like a light.

Choso panics when he sees your unconscious body, fearing that he’s taking it too far but he sees the way you’re comfortable breathing and he makes a mental note to apologise to you in the morning. He picks your body up with ease, guiding the both of you to the bathroom as he turns on the water, making sure you’re all clean before drying you off and tucking you into bed. After a few minutes he joins you, cuddling your body close to his, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

The faint rays of sunshine is what wakes you up in the morning and you blink, trying to adjust to the light shining into the room. You feel arms around your waist and you look to see Choso holding onto you tightly. He’s still asleep but you can’t help but admire his features. His hair is tousled, falling softly over his forehead, giving him an endearing, boyish charm. His long lashes rest gently against his cheeks and you’re jealous of the beauty he holds. 

You notice the small smile at his lips and it only makes you smile wider. His breathing is slow and steady, each rise and fall of his chest a comforting rhythm against your side. You can't help but reach out and gently brush a strand of hair away from his face. The touch is light enough not to wake him, but it allows you to see more of his peaceful expression. Your heart flutters in your chest. 

Your body still feels sore but you notice you’re in a simple t-shirt that you assume is Choso’s. It warms your heart to know he looked after you after you passed out on him. Choso nuzzles closer towards you and you feel your heart swell at the sight and you find yourself liking him even more than you already did. 

“You’re awake.” He mumbles and his voice is groggy. He blinks for a second and you smile at how he looks so cute, bed head and all. His eyes lock with yours and a second goes by before his whole face erupts into heat and he’s blushing, holding the duvet up to cover his face. “I-I’m so sorry Y/n, I took it too far last night and you passed out, I’m so so sorry.”

There’s silence for a minute and Choso definitely thinks you're mad at him, that is before you burst into giggles. He thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“It’s okay Choso, I really enjoyed it.” You say between giggles, raising your hand to brush through his hair and Choso leans into your touch, happy you weren’t angry with him. “But you really have two sides don’t you? What happened to the guy who fucked me dumb last night huh?”

Choso once again turns bright red and he pulls your body close to his, burying his face into your neck. “It’s all your fault, I get really nervous around you.”

His statement only makes you giggle even louder and when you lift his face you see a pout on his lips and you can’t help but think he’s so cute. You give him a small kiss watching as he melts in your grasp. The both of you cuddle for what seems like hours.

“I really do mean it Y/n, you know, that I love you.” The words catch you off guard and Choso notices your surprised expression and he tugs you closer to him. “It’s okay you don’t have to say it back so soon, I’m happy as long as you like me.”

You hear his rapid heartbeat and you smile to yourself. “In that case, I really really like you Choso Kamo.” 

Choso grins, face tinted with a blush as he buries his face into your hair as he hugs you tighter. “I really really like you too Y/n L/n.”

The next day when you go in for work everything’s normal but every once in a while both you and your new boyfriend would steal subtle glances at each other before looking away, cheeks flared with heat. You had both agreed not to mention it to anyone for the time being and you assumed that your colleagues wouldn’t have noticed the change in relationship you had with Choso. 

"I'll have a triple-shot caramel macchiato with extra foam, a dash of cinnamon, two pumps of vanilla, and a drizzle of honey." Satoru’s grin is mocking and you want to punch him more than usual. "Oh, and make sure it’s stirred counterclockwise."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try to brush off the topic but you know your friend is way too observant for his own good. “Just get back to work Satoru.”

“Whatever you say boss.” He winks at you before sauntering off.

You glance over at Choso, who looks up just in time to catch your eye. He smiles softly, and you return the gesture, feeling your heart flutter. Forget stupid Satoru Gojo, all you needed was your adorable boyfriend to brighten your day and everything seemed ten times better.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso x you #choso fanfiction #jjk x you #jjk fic #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen #smut #kamo choso #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

#im reading that post that says artists are directors of audience reaction and not its dictator: #'you cannot guarantee that everyone viewing your work will react as you are trying t make them react. a good artist knows that this is what #allows work to breath. by definition you cannot have art where the viewer brings nothing to the table ... this is why you have to let go of #the urge to plainly state in text exactly how you think the work should be interpreted ... its better to be misinterpreted sometimes than #to talk down to your audience. you wont even gain any control that way; people will still develop their opinions no matter what you do #im thinking abt this again cuz i was thinking maybe the thing that lets adventure time work so well the way it does is cuz it doesnt #take itself too seriously that it gives the audience enough room to fuck with subtext and then fuck with them back yknow. i think it was #mentioned somewhere that they werent even planning to run with the postapocalyptic elements that are hinted in the show but changed their #mind after the one off with the frozen businessmen and dominoed into marcy and simons backstory. on the other side there are stories that #explain too much to let the story speak for itself and i think it ends up having to do more with the crew trying to lead ppl in a certain #direction than expand on what they have and i see a lot of this with miraculous. like when interviews and tweets are used as word of god in #arguments and it becomes a little stifling to play around with it knowing the creator can just interject. u can say its the crews effort to #engage with its audience but it feels more like micromanaging. and none of this is to say there ISNT room for stories that spell things out #theyre just suited for different things. if sesame street tried abstract approaches to themes and nuance itd be counterproductive #a lot of things fly over my head so i need help picking things apart to get it- but it doesnt have to be from the story itself. ive picked #picked up or built on my own interpretations listening to other ppl share their thoughts which creates conversation around the same thing #sometimes stories will spell things out for you without being so obvious abt it that it feels like its woven into the text. my fav example #for this might be ATLA using younger characters as its main cast but instead of feeling like its dumbed down for kids to understand why war #is bad its framed from a childs point of view so younger audiences can pick up on it by relating to the characters. maybe an 8 year old #wont get how geopolitics works but at least they get 'hey the world is a little more complicated than everyone vs. fire nation'. same for #steven universe bc its like theyre trying to describe and put feelings into words that kids might not have so they have smth to start with #especially with the metaphors around relationships bc even if it looks unfamiliar as a kid now maybe the hope is for it to be smth you can #look back to. thats why it feels like these shows grew up with me.. instead of saving difficult topics for 'when im ready for it' #as if its preparing me for high school it gave me smth to turn in my hands and revisit again and again as i grow. stories that never #treated u as dumb all along. just someone who could learn and come back to it as many times as u need to. i loved SU for the longest time #but i felt guilty for enjoying it hearing the way ppl bash it. bc i was a kid and thought other ppl understood it better than me and made #feel bad for leaning into the message of paying forward kindness and not questioning why steven didnt punish the diamonds or hold them #accountable. but im rewatching it now and going oh. i still love this show and what it was trying to teach me #yapping #diary

[awkwardarmadildo]

eight and a half minutes into the reigate squire part one and i love them all i love them all so much so so so much theyre so silly and goofy and i want to chew on them who let them all be so fucking perfect whoever it was deserves a raise and a bonus and paid time off but maybe not time off because i desperately need more of them all being silly and goofy and strange and lovely like genuinely sherlock panicking and ordering without thinking and then giving it to john to try is something i do all the time i love them so much i dont even have the words to articulate how much i thoroughly enjoy the simple domesticity and off time like the adventures and cases are incredible obviously but i LIVE for the simple moments like that or at the beginning when mariana and sherlock were teasing him for his atrocious handwriting like thats so cute so throuple to me bro

sorry for the absolutely Shit readability, this is an attempt at a thought purge to try and be normal for the rest of the day lmao

#sherlock and co #sherlock holmes #mariana ametxazurra #john watson #dr john watson #sherlock and mariana #sherlock and john #mariana and john #the reigate squire #part one #there are not enough words to describe how fucking much i love them all #they are a throuple #whether that be a triangle #a v type #or romantic plus queer platonic sherlock #whatever #theyre so jshshsjsjsjsnndbdbdbbenskzix #:D #gonna scream bro #i love them so much

[noxtivagus]

hflaksdjflsdkhf

#🌙.vents #okay i shld rlly be more mindful of like my warning signs bcs talking a bit w one of my irls rn with apollo in our gc n #TIME IS REALLY NOT ON MY SIDE RIGHT NOW BUT #tmrrw i rlly want to write smth more for them bcs i think she's not rlly doing well rn n we touched on that a bit earlier but #i want to say more. i really do #usually i still manage well on my own but i'm human too n i really realize how my mood gets. like. i feel sad n all when i #don't talk to ppl for a while. #NOT THAT IT'S ANYONE'S FAULT THOUGH OKAY 😭 #wait my mind is rlly a mess rn bcs i'm both distressed n at peace right now n it's confusing but i'm #genuinely fine n i genuinely don't have resentment towards anyone even though it may seem like it. #i hate idolizing others or being too idealistic though sometimes i get caught up in it but i'm aware when i do n try to fix it? #so. from my perspective #though i try to be objective n. separate n be aware of what is subject to me #i'm aware of my own self so. i think i'm decently aware of my own friends too #like their faults n strengths but i love them as a whole n want the best for them. if that makes sense #i really don't know how to describe it right now n that incapability to word it well enough distresses me in this particular yeah but #in my head i really do know n that gives me peace at least n #I'M SORRY I'M REALLY JUST RAMBLING A LOT RN I'M DUMPING N I'M NOT THINKING TOO MUCH OF IT I CRIED A BIT N THEN #it's so hot here i don't know why i'm not turning on the fan n then sorry to my friend ily /p but my energy is low rn n #yk what i'll just do more tmrrw. but my responsibilities w school r fucking me up i think weekends shld be 3 days fr so i can rest #rlly comforts me though when i think of. the complexity of life n. how humans are like. like. more like on how #yk normal stuff abt being human like we all have struggles n i rlly love thinking of how each of us loves differently w different ppl n #how we think i want to learn of all my friends' beliefs n philosophies n ideals n i want to just understand sm okay hdfaljsdkf #i find each of them so interesting but yk personally i have struggles w actually initiating that connection bcs of anxiety n then #it's rather comforting isn't it knowing how others have their own struggles too right? but we still connect. n. yeah #but i shld sleep soon so i'll shut my thoughts off now n priv these posts later bcs i am Genuinely just rambling i'm not thinking too much #GOOD NIGHT <3 ILL FIX MY TUMBLR TMRRW 😭

[theemporium]

[3.5k] after his iconic first race win in formula one, lando gets to celebrate with his three favourite people. or, the charlandax smut i accidentally promised after a lando win with a lestappen podium. (smut)

note: this is fucking filthy and i kinda feel like i need to go to a confession booth. okay bye, nobody perceive me after this. she’s also unedited so beware (I’m too lazy to reread and edit rn)

.

Lando Norris felt like he was on top of the fucking world but maybe that was just how it felt from the top step of the podium.

It hadn’t really hit him yet, despite his ears ringing from his own screams and the cheers from the crowd and the fans and his own team. It didn’t feel real until the national anthem began playing through the speakers, until he heard his team singing along, until he realised this was his reality. 

He was a Grand Prix winner. 

Finally. 

Surreal was the only word to describe how he felt. After years of second-place and third-place podium finishes, of people telling him his time would come, of having so many close calls, he did it. He fucking did it. And he didn’t just skim a win, it was fully fucking his as he soared past the chequered flag.

And for once, Lando basked in the knowledge that all eyes were on him. It didn’t give him that prickling, itching feeling under his skin. It didn’t make him want to  hunch his shoulders up to his ears. It didn’t make the little voice in the back of his head send him spiralling over every little thing he could be doing wrong. 

He had just won the Miami Grand Prix and everyone was staring at him and he fucking loved it.

But it meant more than just a win to Lando, it meant so much more than a trophy to add to his collection back home. It was about the years spent achieving this dream. It was about the effort and the support he had from the team to reach this point. It was about sharing this moment and standing on the podium with two people who meant the fucking world to him with the third watching all three of them from down below. 

It meant the fucking world to Lando. 

It was a blur of happiness and excitement and adrenaline as he stood on that top step. It felt like he was in a movie when the trophy was handed to him, the number one staring back at him like it was reminding him he had done it. It felt like a fucking dream when the champagne celebration started, his hand barely wrapped around the neck of the bottle when Charles and Max drenched and drowning him in champagne.

It was completely fucking unbelievable this was finally his reality.

Time was a blur of big smiles, loud cheers and so many people congratulating him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, it made something in his chest burst with pride as he felt his team slap him on the back as he walked through the garage. He felt like his life was complete when you threw your arms around him, tugging him close until your bodies felt like one.

“M’so cold,” he murmured as he wound his arms around you, holding you closer as he buries his face into your neck for some privacy, despite the countless cameras pointing at him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear because he was the only one who mattered in that moment. “This is the first of many.”

He sniffled, feeling his throat close up a bit but he just squeezed you tighter when the words didn’t come out as smoothly as he wanted. 

However, you were pulled away from him seconds later as he was directed towards the camera. With media duties and team debriefs and many more commitments, he didn’t have time to stop and celebrate with the people he wanted. He had to perform for the cameras, for the fans, for the people watching before he could. 

And honestly, he couldn't complain. There were worse problems to have.

His brain was running a million miles an hour, so many thoughts and feelings and emotions to try and comprehend that he barely noticed the other person in his driver’s room until the door shut behind him and he felt a pair of lips on his. 

“I am so proud of you, mon champion,” Charles murmured against his lips, the kiss short-lived due to the huge smile on his face. He pulled back enough to look at Lando properly, his hands holding the Brit’s face. “So, so proud of you.”

Lando felt his cheeks burn. “M’glad you and Max were up there with me,” he admitted, that funny feeling in his chest returning before he glanced around the room noticing that Charles was the only one in his driver room. “Where are the others?” Pause. “How did you even sneak in here?”

“I have my ways,” Charles answered vaguely, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And I’m here to help you hurry up. They are waiting in the car.” 

Lando snorted. “And they sent you to hurry me up?” 

“I may have come third, mon amour, but I’m still fast.” 

Despite his words, it took a few more minutes of Charles pressing kisses all over his face and mumbling a load of French that Lando didn’t understand before he was finally able to grab his belongings and make it out of the McLaren motorhome. 

His whole body was buzzing with energy, far too hyped up to even care about the way his face burned when he climbed into the backseat of Charles’ race weekend car, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 

This. 

This was what he had been waiting for. 

This moment to be with the people who loved more than his heart knew he was capable of. A moment to be with the people who believed in him no matter what, even when the rest of the world doubted him. 

And if Lando was being so completely honest, he was so lost in the buzz of his win that he didn’t think anything about your hand resting on his upper thigh. He was still lost in the race a few hours ago, still lost in the feeling of crossing the line and hearing Will’s voice over the radio confirming he secured his first Formula One Grand Prix win. 

So lost in that moment that he barely had a chance to drop his backpack on the floor of Max’s huge hotel suite before the Dutchman was reaching for him. With the privacy of the hotel room door locked from the rest of the world, Max didn’t hold back as he raked his hand through Lando’s curls. His fingers twisted in his hair, tugging sharply as his teeth nipped the Brit’s bottom lip. 

Lando couldn’t help himself when he let out a whine.

“Fuck,” Max groaned, tugging on his hair again as he watched Lando’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at our race winner, hm? So pretty, schat.”

Lando’s lips parted but words were lost on him. Instead, his eyes darted where you saddled up against Max’s side, head resting on his shoulder as you looked at Lando with a massive grin. 

“I think you broke him,” you teased, a faux pout on your lips. “Guess that throws all our plans out the window.”

Lando blinked before quickly shaking his head. “I—no, wait, what plans?”

Max grinned. “Your reward, baby. Didn’t think we were gonna celebrate your big day, huh?”

“I—” Lando paused, feeling something deep in his stomach twist in desire. “I just…I don’t know. I thought we were gonna go out…or something.”

“We could,” Charles spoke up as he slipped in behind Lando, his hands on the younger boy’s waist. “If that’s what you want. We can go out and celebrate with everyone else.”

Lando swallowed. “Or?”

“Or,” you repeated, your eyes lingering on his kiss-swollen lips. “You let us treat you like a proper race winner.”

“And what does that treatment include?” Lando asked, because that was just who he was. That little brat in him that wanted to know his options, that wanted to know exactly how he was being rewarded, who wanted to know exactly what was getting done to him. The little brat in him that was mouthy and sassy and usually got put in his place—that wanted to be put in his place.

And Max knew that. He knew that if he reached down, Lando was probably half-hard already. He knew that no matter what he said, Land would be down for it. He could see the glint in the Brit’s eyes, that realisation of what he could have without realising it. 

“Anything you want,” Max murmured, his thumb lightly tracing along Lando’s bottom lip. “You’re the winner, Lando. Our winner.”

…

Anything you want. 

That was his limit—completely fucking endless. He had all the control in the palm of his hands to do whatever he pleased, whatever he desired, whatever he fucking wanted. 

But that wasn’t what Lando wanted. He didn’t want to be in charge. He didn’t want to be the person making the calls and decisions. That wasn’t his role in the bedroom and he never really wanted to be. He liked being the one who got to lay back, the one that people tried to tame and dominate only to realise he didn’t listen as easily as people wanted. 

He liked being the one that people worked to break. 

So, that was exactly what Max gave to him and Lando only slightly regretted his decision as he slumped back against the Dutchman, grinding his ass back against the older boy’s straining cock as he threw his head back against Max’s shoulder.

“Please, please, please,” Lando whined, trying to buck his hips forwards but Max kept his body in place, just where he wanted him. “S’too much.”

“I know, schatje,” Max mused, pressing a lingering kiss at the base of his neck just to hear Lando let out a small moan at the contact. “But look how pretty they look for you, all for you. You don’t want them to stop, do you?” 

But Lando couldn’t bring himself to respond. 

“None of that,” Max muttered, squeezing Lando’s sides to get the boy to listen. “Thought my winner was gonna be good for me, huh? Look at them, Lando. Look how good they are being for you. Look at how much they are enjoying this.”

The boy only managed to let out a whimper as he fluttered his eyes open, his chin tucking into his chest as he looked down at the sight Max was demanding of him. 

And, fuck, it made his knees buckle.

The two of you were absolute fucking messes. It felt like something out of a porno, one that would have Lando panting and whining and fantasising about because never once did he think it was realistic. And yet, here you and Charles were, looking like something out of his deepest desires. 

He couldn’t focus on one of you, it would have been a crime to not stare and ogle you both. The way you both looked utterly perfect on your knees in front of him, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks and looking so fucking blissed out as you both worshipped his cock—like you were fulfilling a purpose, like this was what the two of you were made for. 

And it was messy as fuck, something that maybe would have been gross to everyone else in the world, but Lando thought it was so fucking hot. The evidence of his previous orgasms splattered across you both, covering your lips and chins and naked chests. The way your lips wrapped around the head of his cock as Charles licked down the underside of his cock until he nosed Lando's balls. The way Charles had one hand wrapped around his leaking cock, pumping and stroking himself as you squeezed and played with your tits like it would give you some relief. 

But it wasn’t about your pleasure or Charles’ or Max’s. 

It was all about Lando. 

“Such good sluts on their knees for you,” Max muttered, lips brushing against his ear as his warm breath tickled against Lando’s skin. “Usually that’s you, schat. Getting on your knees for me, doing whatever I tell you.”

“Fuck,” he let out in a breathless whimper, turning his head to try and nuzzle his face into Max’s neck. 

“Do you like this, Lando? Like seeing them be such whores for your cock? So desperate and needy?” Max continued, his hands tightening on the younger boy’s waist as he looked down at you and Charles.

You let out a whine at his words, your thighs clenched together and your eyes fluttering shut as you traced your tongue along the slit of his cock. Your moans vibrated around his cock, leaving the boy a puddle underneath your touch as Charles placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his balls. 

“Bet they would stay there all night if you wanted them to,” Max mused as his eyes caught teary green eyes staring up at him, desperation shining in the pretty colour of them. “Bet Charles would love to take your cock down his pretty throat, he always does it so well for me. Hm, amour? Think you could take our pretty winner’s cock like a good boy?”

The sound Charles let out was pitiful and straight out of a fucking porno.

“Max,” Lando breathed out, his hands reaching back to try and grab onto the Dutchman. “Please, I-I need…”

“What do you need?” Max questioned, squeezing his sides. “Need more than their mouths, baby? Or maybe you need more than that.”

Lando felt his whole face burn as he let out a shameless moan when one of Max’s hands began wandering, when his fingers brushed along his skin before squeezing the fat of his ass. 

“The champagne wasn’t enough, hm? Maybe we need to fill you up,” Max suggested, like it was something as casual as talking about dinner options. “Bet you’d feel so nice and tight around me, baby. Maybe let Charles fill your pretty throat instead.”

“Please,” Lando whined.

“Yeah, you want that?” He could feel Max’s smile against his skin. “Let our pretty girl bounce on your cock whilst we fill you up? She would look so pretty sitting on top of you.”

Lando nodded his head vigorously, his nails slightly digging into Max’s skin. “I need it, Max, need it so bad.”

Max’s teeth scraped along the side of his neck. “Beg for it.” 

So he did. 

He begged for it until his voice was hoarse and his legs were shaking and his babbles were practically incoherent. He begged until he felt Max’s lips on his skin, joined by Charles and yours moments later as you three kissed and worshipped every inch of his body. He begged until his face was burning red, his blush spreading down his neck and chest as you praised him—your race winner—until he couldn’t take it any more.

He begged for it as you held his face, prepping kisses all over his face whilst Max worked him open. 

He begged for it as Charles marked along his neck and chest to help him relax as Max slowly slid inside him, stretching him open until he was a whimpering mess.

He begged for it as you slowly sunk down on his cock, your cunt already soaking and slick with your own arousal as he buried himself inside you. 

He begged for it until his hands were gripping Charles’ thighs, nails digging into his skin as he urged his cock further down his throat until he felt fucking full.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, rocking your hips back and forth as you let your hands skim along his skin. Your fingers traced along the planes of his abs, watching them softly clench under your touch before you traced along his sides. You kept your hands moving, feeling the need to touch every fucking inch of him as he preened and squirmed under your touch. “You look so perfect like this.” 

Lando let out a muffled moan around Charles’ cock.

“Letting us fill you up, make you feel so good,” you continued, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. “This is what our race winner deserves. So pretty and fast today, baby, it’s so hot.”

One of his hands let go of Charles, blindly reaching out towards you until you caught the hint to intertwine your fingers together. You raised it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of his hand and something about the soft gesture whilst his body was being fucked into an inch of his life made the boy spiral. 

He couldn’t do anything but just take it, let the overwhelming pleasure wash over him until his whole body felt like it was on fire. His nerve endings felt like they had been turned up beyond the dial, like every touch was more thrilling than he could ever imagine. The words of praise was a muffled mess around him, three voices all mixed together as he felt hands all over his body. He felt safe, he felt full, he felt complete. 

It was a blur of too much pleasure and excitement and gratification when he finally came, white spots dotting his vision as he felt himself completely spill inside you whilst your cunt clenched around him, as Max’s cock hit the perfect spot deep inside him with every thrust. He was so lost in his own orgasm, in his own moans and whines and noises to fully realise the domino effect he started. 

To really appreciate the sight of you coming on his cock, bouncing up and down on his cock whilst your tits moved with each thrust. To really enjoy the sensation of Max coming deep inside him, squeezing him so hard that he was sure his skin would bruise the next day. To watch the way Charles stroked himself a few more times before spilling over his chest, just for you to lean down and lick up the mess until you leaned down to kiss him senseless. 

To be completely honest, he was waiting to wake up and realise this whole day was a dream. 

But he blinked. And blinked once more for good measure. And your smiling face was still there to reassure him this was real, that everything about today was real. 

“Hey,” he whispered, voice a little rough and hoarse. 

“Hey, baby,” you grinned back at him as you raised your hand to gently cup his face, your thumb wiping away a few stray tears that slipped out. “How are you feeling, Mr Race Winner?”

And despite the exhaustion settled deep in his bones, Lando beamed at you. “Feel like I’m the king of this fucking world.”

You giggled. “Then our job here is complete.” 

Lando huffed out a laugh, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to fight the urge to curl up and sleep for the next week straight. 

“Don’t tell me that’s you done for the night,” Max’s voice spoke from somewhere else in the room, somewhere away from the bed but Lando couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. “There’s a whole city wanting to celebrate with you tonight.”

“Ugh, being a race winner is so much work,” Lando whined playfully, reaching for you to pull you closer before you could pull away from him. “Let’s just stay here forever.”

“All a part of the title, mon amour,” Charles teased as he settled down beside the younger boy on the bed. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss to Lando’s forehead. “I heard the other drivers making bets on who could buy you the most shots.”

Lando let out a breath. “Fuck, they are gonna try to kill me.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen,” you assured him, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I’m sure Max would join you.”

“Thanks, schat,” Max grumbled as he wandered back into the room, a wet washcloth in his hand. “We have a few hours before we are meant to meet everyone anyways. Have a nap, you can shower when you wake up.”

Lando blinked his eyes open, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alone?”

Max rolled his eyes. “It’s never enough for you.”

“I’m a high maintenance guy,” Lando replied. 

“We know,” you murmured with a snort, only to gasp when he pinched your side. “Hey!”

“You can’t yell at me, I’m a race winner,” he shot back at you, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, that is exactly how this works,” Charles snorted as he slumped down on the pillow beside Lando, reaching for the Brit to curl up beside him. “That and club blowjobs.”

“It was one time,” Max grumbled. “And it wasn’t even my idea!”

“I didn’t regret it for a second,” you smiled shamelessly at the Dutchman before raising your hand, trying to pull him down onto the bed with the three of you. “C’mon, we can clean up properly later. I wanna cuddle.” 

“So needy.”

“In the wise words of race winner Lando Norris, I’m a high maintenance guy.”

“Hell yeah, baby,” Lando murmured, his cheek pressed into the pillow with a sleepy smile on his face. “Someone stitch that onto a pillow.” 

“Please go to sleep before I gag you both.” 

“They would probably like that, mon amour.”

“You too, Charles.” 

“Always so bossy, Verstappen.”

.

#charlandax #charles leclerc #lando norris #max verstappen #formula one #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #lando norris smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #formula one smut

[lovebugism]

hi bug!! for your shy!reader requests, idk if you’re going smutty w them but if you ARE: I love the concept of reader being generally pretty quiet, which extends to r’s sex life bc they’ve never thought to b otherwise… enter Hawkins’ own loudmouth DM who takes it upon himself to coax every noise out of reader that he can 💖🫡

ty for requesting! here's my first attempt at smut on here since 2023 :D — eddie teaches his quiet gf how to be louder in the bedroom (shy!fem!r, smut 18+)

Eddie’s face appears from beneath the covers — pale cheeks flushed, chestnut hair wild. He’s still got his ringed fingers wrapped ‘round your thighs, clutching you with the same intensity he’d had when his face was shoved between them. 

He blinks at you with chocolate eyes and drags his tongue across his lip. His pink mouth is softly swollen with use and glittering with your honey. “Is this okay?” he slurs between labored pants.

You lift your swimmy head from the pillow and peer at him through the valley of your breasts, rising and falling with each deep breath. You nod until the words catch up to you. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s— it’s good,” you answer breathlessly, though you don’t think that describes the half of it.

There aren’t enough words in the English language you could string together to describe how he makes you feel. How good he is with his tongue. How you’re throbbing clit still pounds like a heartbeat for more of him.

“Okay. Good,” he huffs with a lazy nod. 

His fingers fidget around your thighs when he shifts on the mattress, wincing slightly when his sensitive cock ruts against it. “I just… I wanted to make sure, you know? ‘Cause you weren’t… You weren’t really… Saying anything.”

He forces out a chuckle to keep the honeyed mood light while horror floods your features. Your eyes soften around the edges with worry. “What was I… What was I supposed to say?” you squeak.

“Nothing!” he answers quickly, eyes going wide when he senses your panic. “It’s just… Most— Most people moan when they feel good and stuff…” His lip quirks in a lopsided smile before a laugh sputters from them. “I mean, you’ve heard me. I’m fucking loud.”

He is. He’s more than loud, actually — full of gruff moans, pretty whimpers, and neverending praise. He never leaves you with an ounce of worry when you’re with him ‘cause he’s constantly rambling about how good you feel.

“Fuck, baby, that’s good— Oh, shit,” he babbled while he fucked your mouth, some minutes ago now. He whimpered after, high-pitched and faraway.“Gonna make me cum— so fucking hard— in your pretty little throat. Fuck, angel. Fuck—”

You writhe on the mattress, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin. 

You become acutely hyperaware of how bare you are below him, with his face mere inches from your glistening pussy and his chocolate eyes swimming with warmth. You feel more naked than you already are. Totally fucking see-through.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly. “I just… I guess, I’m just quiet. I don’t know.”

Eddie smiles like he isn’t wearing your slick all over his chin. “That’s okay,” he assures with an innocuous twinkle in his eye. “But you don’t have to be. You know that, right?”

You blink at him until you realize the question isn’t rhetorical. 

His smile falls into a mischievous smirk when you nod. 

“Be as loud as you want for me, yeah? Make all the noise you want…”

—————

He’s a menace.

Eddie Munson is a total fucking menace.

He doesn’t eat your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. No, he takes his good and well time with you — like he plans on doing this, and only this, for the rest of his life. 

Your inner thighs are slick with saliva. His spit drips down your ass, along with your honey, as his tongue laps mercilessly at your cunt. Slowly, gently, agonizingly. It’s like he can’t help but be so sloppy. Like he can’t help but drool all over your pussy ‘cause he loves it so damn much.

“Eddie, please,” you whine through heavy pants, clammy hands cradling your knees to keep them spread for him. “I wanna cum, Eddie. Please, I wanna cum.”

If he’s doing all this to get you talking, well, it’s fucking working.

His mouth smacks when it parts from your sensitive clit. The delicate button is as swollen as his lips are now. His pretty face is utterly blissed out — mouth rosy, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed. Like he’s found heaven in your pussy.

“Shit,” he huffs with a crooked smile, still a bit breathless. “You taste too good… Got me all distracted… Wasn’t tryin’ to tease you, babe, I swear.”

He pulls back the sticky hood of your cunt with a ringed hand. You keen when his thumb rolls over your throbbing clit. “Fuck, Eds,” you gasp — back arched, head thrown back.

“Need it that bad, huh?” He chuckles quietly when your hips buck into his hand, desperate for more. 

“Please, Eds,” you beg with your eyes squeezed shut. Tears burn in the very corners of them, stinging like you might cry at how good he’s making you feel. At how badly you want him to make you cum.

Spit dribbles from his pursed mouth onto your already slick pussy. He rubs it in with guitar string-calloused fingers, and your toes curl into the sheets. “Wanna cum?” he slurs, blinking slowly at your trembling form with pretty button eyes. “Wanna cream on my tongue?”

You whine at the vulgarity of his words — and at the lightning strike that rushes down your spine when his merciless fingers graze your pulsing clit. Swallowing down a sob, you nod rapidly against the pillow.

Eddie kisses your pussy like he would your mouth. Your honey clings to him when he pulls away, smirking up at you with glittering lips. “Then keep talking for me, yeah?”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige is your sneaky link & you wear her jersey to surprise her after a game.

warning (s): smut → dom paige, slightly sub reader, power play, pussy eating, fingering, nipple sucking… etc MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

author note: not edited, wrote late at night, and rushed ending kinda.

Paige Bueckers was NOT your girlfriend. Neither of you even had the bandwidth to focus on romance — her, with an intense basketball career occurring outside of her dynamic with you, and you, an essential slave to your university studies.

That's what made it feel like fate when you guys first met at the Uni New Years Party. Genuinely, you both believed so, and had told one and other that before fervently making out in the washroom that exact night. Granted, you were both insanely drunk, but Paige could recount the story like it was yesterday that she saw you, single, hot, and dancing unbotheredly, though it'd been three months already."Gosh, you were just sooo cute. I was asking KK & all em', 'Who is she? How is she single?' And then they're like 'Oh, she's focused and questioning, not the romantic type,' and I was thinking, 'She's perfect.'"

Despite knowing that Paige and you are not dating, and that she really appreciates your understanding of casual, which is why she's consistently fucking just you, you can't help but feel butterflies when she describes your existence as perfect.

As an athlete, a great one at that, nothing was ever perfect to Paige. Except for you. And shit, whenever you recalled her slew of admirers at your school, on the net, and among her fans, the fact she deemed none of them were worthy of her undivided attention like she had with just you made you spiral.

You loved being her only girl. You loved being the epitome of perfection to Paige Bueckers, UConn's star. Her game tonight, televised, had ran late, and you thought she'd be too exhausted to come over and play, however, after winning, she was fired up and soon sent you a picture of her in an Uber, telling you she was on her way.

Most nights, sometimes early mornings, it was the same routine. She would come over, you would buzz her into the building, let her into your apartment, and she'd shower before fucking you into oblivion whichever way she pleased. It was always fun, varying some nights. This night though, to celebrate UConn's first win of the season, you surprised her by wearing her jersey. 'Bueckers' read the back, '#5'. When you opened the door, Paige was wearing a white shirt, grey sweats, and glasses, her hair in a half-neat, half-disheveled bun. She looked so hot.

You could feel yourself getting wet at the mere sight of her. She was on her phone due to the wait for you to open the door, and she hadn't yet looked up from the gadget as she chided playfully, "Let's start opening this door faster, ma. I waited long enough to get to you all-da—" She stopped; blue eyes fixed upon your body and her jersey and your body in her jersey. You giggled teasingly. "You like it, P?" you asked, guiding her much taller stature into your apartment by the wrist with considerable ease. Paige, who usually held control, was left dumbfounded at the sight of you. "My gosh, baby," she murmured softly, the wrist you'd just been previously holding pulling you closer into her body as the other hand rubbed down your smaller frame, smoothing circles into your lower back until she gripped a handful of your bare ass, making you moan. "Paige!" you whimpered, cheek against cheek, breathlessly. "C'mon, P, play nice with me." you purred sensually. She licked her lips, pleading, "C'mere," her voice low and laced with desperation. You wouldn't listen, though, reveling in your effect on her and how she was breaking, wanting to be in control for once. You buried your face in the curve of her neck, tracing tender kisses along her most sensitive spot, coaxing out heavy, breathless sighs from the taller blonde. Your hands found her hair as you sucked a spot onto her neck, intertwining into it and unraveling her updo as you worked on her, leaving it in disarray.

"Y/N," she exhaled shakily, "Baby, quit that, or I'm not playing nice with you tonight." she warned, tone determined to repossess her dominance. Paige never really called you 'babe,' or 'baby,' — nothing sweet like that. Typically, her nasty mouth — the one that satisfied you and degraded you all at once — was calling you a dirty slut or whore, and when it got intense, she'd make you call your ownself things. She was immensely losing it talking sweetly, and this was a stark reminder.

"Do you want me stop, Paige?" you murmured, pausing briefly only to speak before delving into her neck again, licking a hot stripe up her new purple hickey before nibbling on her ivory skin. Paige suppresses a groan, reducing it to a tiny indelible noise.

"I do," she responds positively, her hands on your waist, smoothing down your ribcage before gently lifting your jersey up until her hands were underneath it. "I don't know if I wanna keep this on you or take it off," she husked conflictedly, kneading your tits.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, angel, you'd look so good both ways." Paige surprised you when her hands fell low again, lifting you up and forcing you to cling to her body as she carried you toward your bedroom. The entire way there, your lips had been pressed against each other's, and though it was risky, you trusted Paige's coordination as an athlete. Before no time, you had made it safely into your bedroom, and she gently placed you down on the mattress before stripping off her white tee.

After discarding of it somewhere amongst the dimly lit room, she slides her body between your legs, pressing her pink lips against yours and her strong knee into your bare bottom half, the friction causing you to whimper into the kiss. Moments later, she pulls away from the kiss briefly and gazes down between you both, inspecting the now dark grey sweatpants for any signs of damage, her mouth slightly agape as she marvels at the sight of your slick that's coated her pants. "You're such a slut," she says in a sultry chuckle, "I can't believe you're this wet for me and I've barely even touched you yet," she breathes out in disbelief.

"I'm your slut, Paige. Touch me," you beg. She slips her fingers inside you, torn between focusing on the way your face contorts in pleasure as she scissors you open or on how effortlessly you accommodate her lengthy digits. She decides on both, using her free hand to push the jersey up before latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, as if she's unsure about how you might respond to the intense pleasure you're experiencing.

She watches you attentively, so beautiful and immersed in pure pleasure, your mouth parted with little gasps falling from your gorgeous lips as Paige presses against the sensitive pad inside your pussy that aligns with your clit on the outside. She ceases sucking. "I want to watch you play with it," she states. You're dazed, out of breath with your head cloudy, and you manage to murmur, "W-what?"

Paige doesn't say anything. She resumes her attention, this time on your left nipple, nibbling gently, and she guides your hand down to your clit with her free hand, assisting you in beginning the circular motions upon it. The stimulation of each pleasure zone on your body has you arching your back, whining out Paige's name in a mantra. "Fuck, P, mmph," you gasp, body on fire, "Please don't stop, mommy, I'm so fucking close." you plead, voice trembling with need. You swear you could hear your heartbeat momentarily, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo as you teetered on the edge of release. But Paige did say she wouldn't play nice, and she smirks up at you deviously. “Tell P how good she makes you feel,” she commands, her pace slowing to an agonizing speed as she relished in the power dynamic at play. You knew the game she wanted to play; still tinged with the frustration from your earlier encounter where you had taken control.

Too horny to care, you proclaimed, "You make me feel so good, Paige,” voice filled with longing. “I love your fingers so much, yes,” moaning as she gently accelerated, indulging your desires just as you indulged hers: submission, each of you surrendering to the other’s needs, finding pleasure in the delicate balance of power and desire. "Good girl," she praises against your chest. "You're a good fucking slut, right?"

You nodded, "Yours." closing your eyes, unable to keep looking into hers. She looked too good. Paige was fortunate that you were rendered immobile by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. If you could move, you'd pounce on her with an aggressive kiss. Her hair cascades around her shoulders, her glasses still perched on her nose, and that cute appreciative smile she gives you as she nastily, relentlessly fucks her fingers into you sends butterflies swirling in your stomach.

It'd been three months being with Paige and the fact that the golden star of UConn is here, with you, not even an hour after basking in the spotlight of victory, is surreal. She generally was. It was surreal to gaze upon such a stunning girl as you reached the peak of bliss, cries of pleasure mingling with the realization that you were climaxing, hard and long. And through it all, she maintained eye contact, talking you through it, her gaze unwavering. "Cum on my fingers, baby, I want to taste you. I want to see you do it. C'mon," she coaxes, her voice dripping with desire as she urges you on.

You were drowning in her. And soon enough, she was drowning in you, having creamed all over her fingers. Paige pumps thrice more before bringing her fingers to her mouth, her tongue swirling around them as she savored your taste, gaze locking with yours in a dirty exchange of desire. "Tastes as sweet as you are," she remarks, chuckling softly before offering her fingers to you to clean off the rest. "Say ahh," she commands, and you eagerly comply, seeing the benefits of giving into Paige, sticking out your tongue out to allow her to place her fingers into your mouth. "I want them spotless," she demands, her tone filled with authority as you bob your head, licking the remainder of cum off her fingers. "Suck on them," she says, her eyes smoldering with desire as she watches you suscept, eager to fulfill her wishes.

When she's satisfied, she kisses you deeply, her lips igniting a fire within you as you revel in her taste. As she stands up, removing her bottoms, you can't help but admire the sight before yourself. Paige, the girl you were with, had the most exquisite pussy you'd ever seen. You were grateful to be the only girl allowed to experience it, but it truly was a treasure. The harmony and balance of each feature always left you in awe, and you excitedly anticipate the pleasure of eating her out, knowing that it's a demonstration of your complete submission to her. You don't wait. The instant her sweats come off, you yank her by her bra, pulling her onto the bed. There's no time for her to assert dominance as you take control, dropping to your knees below the bed and holding her knees in each hand like they were stirrups.

Her underwear still on, you tease her, licking a stripe against her clothed cunt, tongue flexing at her clit and dampening the spot. "Love this pussy," you groan, voice filled with desire as you used a finger to play against her folds, eliciting a frustrated moan from her. "Stop, Y/N," she pleads, voice scorned with true confliction, torn between the desire to surrender to pleasure and the need to regain control.

"Just wanna hear it once, P," you smirk up at her. "Say please, Number Five." She bites her lip, throwing her head back, causing her glasses to fall off, her bare eyes now locking with yours. It's difficult to maintain your composure under her intense gaze, but you manage, licking another small stripe against her underwear, causing her to jolt. "A-ah, fuck," she moans, trying to close her legs, but you hold them open. "I just wanna make you feel good, Paige, and I can tell you wanna feel good too. Say it."

She exhales, her voice pleading, "Please, Y/N," as she pulls her underwear aside, revealing her glistening pink folds. Your mouth waters. "Can you eat my pussy?" she asks, so politely you wanna kiss her, but you wanna eat her more. She holds her underwear to the side, and you accept the invitation, tongue exploring her wetness with fervor. Her hands flies to your head, something to anchor herself onto as she squirms away from your powerful tongue. You coast her back, however, and suction her clit into her your mouth, moaning into her pussy. Paige isn't a loud girl, but she's having trouble restricting her moans. The scent of her arousal fills the air, driving you wild with desire as you delve deeper, savoring the taste of her essence. As you continue to lavish your attention on her, the intensity of her pleasure builds, her grip on the sheets tightening and knuckles turning white as she writhes beneath you. You feel her body quivering with each flick of your tongue, moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment. You spit down onto her, making it sloppy, merely adding as a plus to the rawness of the carnal energy between you two. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, the sound of your movements mingling with her cries of ecstasy. And as you bring her to the brink of release, a tear runs down Paige's face, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of her pleasure. But you don't let up, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure and beyond. With each lick and suck, you push her closer to the edge, until finally, she shatters beneath me, her body convulsing in waves of bliss as she succumbs to the ecstasy of her climax. The night was far from done. Your jersey was still on, and you still wanted to play.

guys i wrote this because there’s lit no Paige smut on here pls pull thru

Send me req btw!! I’m def considering writing again masterlist

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #smut bueckers #smut #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #iowa wbb #wbb #march madness #ncaa tournament #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x OC #wlw post #pb #Paige x fem reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn vs iowa #smutwccb

[slvttyplum]

shoko loved rubbing her pussy on yours, the tingles she got from it sent her and you over the moon. it's like little warm raindrops were sliding down her body from the stimulation she got from it.

positioning can be hard, but she makes it work every single time. having you lay down and put your leg over hers while she slides her legs over hers, making both your cunts kiss. it felt so good she could barely describe it in words.

“baby don't be shy, let loose.” and that you did, gripping her thigh for stability as you slowly grind against her wet pussy, a light moan sliding out her mouth as you start to grind harder, your lips opening and your clit touching hers.

shoko would say that this was better than her eating you out, but it wasn't, it was a close second though. the way your body moved against hers and moans slid out of your mouth as the pleasure started to overwhelm, it made her so turned on.

memories of her first teaching you how to grind against her to feel good, you came such a long way that you didn't need instructions on how to grind against her to feel the stimulation, you were doing it all on your own with no help.

the fuzzy feeling you got, along with the deep out of pleasure boiling in the lower part of your stomach, was evidence enough that you knew what you were doing. the fact that you took control on grinding against her and making both your pussies drip was a feeling that couldn't be described even if the both of you tried.

pushing her onto her back and climbing on top of her, pushing her legs back and sliding your slick pussy against hers, it felt so fucking good that shoko couldn't stop moaning.

lumps getting caught in her throat as you slid your hands over her chest and breasts, her eyes flickering as she tries to keep them open to watch your every move, you were intoxicating, she just wanted more of you, and that's what you gave her.

“good girl, just like that.” her praises falling into your ear as she watches you push against her cunt with yours, making your clits kiss, it was a warm feeling that was closing in between both your bodies.

this is why she loved this so much, the intimacy between the both of you never left, never for a moment, it only got more intense when she kissed your soft lips as the both of you reached your orgasms.

“i need more of you.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #wlw #shoko #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #jujutsu kaisen shoko #shoko x reader #jujutsu shoko

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fics #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jjk smut #jungkook #bts x you #bts x reader #bts smut #bangtan smut #bangtan x you #bangtan x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk fic #jjk x reader

[hellishjoel]

chokehold

1.6k / pairing: tattoo artist daddy dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi

chapter summary: Joel teaches you how to face fuck. 

chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, unspecified age gap, established relationship, reader is described to have hair and is able-bodied (but otherwise, unspecified), swearing, dirty talk, smut, lots of pet names (sweetheart, angel, little bunny, etc.), dacryphilia (kink = getting aroused by tears), dom/sub dynamics, innocence kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, face fucking/oral (m!receiving), size kink

A/N:  very lightly edited, but I wanted to give a little love to joel and little bunny since the third chapter is taking me some extra time! divider is by @firefly-graphics! and always a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this over and endless encouragement <3

Joel’s eyes roll to the back of his head, slow and steady, because that’s just the pace you’re taking him. 

Facefucking is still experimental to you. He’s your first partner, and you’re nervous to impress. 

What you don’t know is that Joel would never judge your inexperience. All sexual pleasures involve trust, praise, and a little direction.

Joel stokes your hair affectionately, growing more possessive as he gently guides your mouth up and down his thick length. 

You can feel the power shift as your knees dig into the floor, eyes hesitantly meeting his while you try to take more of his shaft. You want more, you’re willing to push your limits. 

Joel seems to sense your loss of inhibitions, your twinkling eyes meeting his whiskey ones. 

“Want me to use that pretty little mouth of yours?” Joel’s words vibrate through the room. He pulls his cock from your lips, smearing his tip from one corner of your mouth to the other as you catch a breath. His warm pre-cum slips onto your tongue, and all you crave is more. 

Watching you desperately try to get him past your parted lips again is enough to force out a dark, low chuckle. 

“Wanna hear y’say it, baby.” 

Your impatient whine and eager hands on the back of his thighs make you beg, “Please, Joel,” in that wrecked voice that he loves so much. 

Joel presses his hips forward once more, watching his tip slip past your puckered lips and back into the hot heat of your mouth. “Yeah, right where I belong, huh, baby? Right where that cock belongs.” Joel’s hand comes to cradle your face, tracing the bulge of his length against your cheek with a sinister smirk. 

The further he pushes on, your tells start to show. He admires the way your eyelashes flutter, gagging and coughing around him but insistent not to let yourself off. A stray tear slips down your cheek. He collects it with his thumb and brings it past his lips, tasting what you give him. 

“Even your tears taste pretty, sweetheart,” he mutters predatorily, watching as your eyes blow wide, shyly moaning against his length. 

“When it gets to be too much, try to stay on. Swallow around me,” Joel gently nods his head. “Go on.” 

You obey, swallowing around the thick trunk of his cock, throat feeling a little looser now. You’re oh so willing to take on the discomfort just to please him. Anything for Joel, because he’d do anything for you. 

As his hips pick up a lazy pace, Joel encourages you to drop your hands from the safety blanket of his thighs. Like the good girl you are, you ease them to the base of your spine and lay one wrist over the other. He’s tied you up in that position more times than he can count, allowing Joel to take control and use you as he pleases. Such a good fucking girl. 

Tears pool along the top of your cheeks, the sight of glassy eyes igniting a fire deep in his belly. The overflow of saliva trickles out along the corners of your mouth, pooling down to his length and soaking the coarse hair on his balls. 

Joel watches as you shift anxiously on your knees, eyes pleading because somehow you want more. 

“Oh, honey,” he drapes in a degrading tone, stroking your hair away from your wet face and letting you catch a breath as his hips halt. “Need more, don’t’cha, doll?” He drawls, cooing softly as you lay your head against his thigh. Your orbs lazily look to him and nod weakly, still measly sucking on his tip. 

You bravely flick your tongue along his tip’s sensitive slit, toying at the idea of getting a rise out of Joel. 

A hiss is released past his clenched teeth, his whiskey eyes turning wild. And then you do it again. 

Joel’s hips jerk like that of a bucking bull. His hand in your hair turns to a fist, causing you to clench your eyes closed at the scorching prickle along your scalp. Joel scoffs as you fucking moan against him. 

His grin turns wicked, twisted at the thought of you enjoying some rough love. 

“Fuckin’ naughty, aren’t ya, little bunny? Yeah, bein’ a damn brat,” he chastises, watching as you frown around his tip and sucking it insistently. “Think m’gonna have t’finish deep down that pretty throat of yours, make ya choke on it,” he remarks as he repositions your head with a newfound need to punish.

Joel gathers your hair into two sets of pigtails, fisting them between his large palms. He watches you struggle to stay upright and drags you into position. “Keep that cock in your mouth, don’t let it go, sweetheart,” he gripes as you struggle to maintain him. It almost feels like a twisted game the way he nearly slips loose from your heat. 

Your mouth was full, jaw aching for a break that was nowhere in sight. Your fingers intertwine to keep them locked at the very base of your spine, whining nonsense against his cock. Soaking wet and dripping onto the hardwood, your pussy clenches around the ghost of what is currently occupying your mouth. 

You wanted to touch yourself so fucking bad. The self-discipline it took to keep your hands together makes your stomach churn. Your pearl twitches with enthusiasm, drenched in your own arousal. 

The muscles in your thighs are tight, your chest heaving and causing your bare breasts to rise and fall at a quickened rate. The overflowing spit that drips down from his balls lands on your chest. Joel can’t seem to stop staring at the gleam. 

Your nose brushes against his thick pubic hair as he buries your face against the base of his stomach, and you sputter up a cough. Lungs squeezing, throat tightening, you will yourself to swallow around him and stay right where you are. I’m yours, Joel. Please, take me, use me. 

“Fuck,’ he growls upon yanking you off his cock, smirking widely as you gasp for lost breaths. “Love that goddamn throat,” Joel mutters before reaching past you and pulling your hands to the front of his thighs, which quickly form a home for you. It’s grounding, to feel him, to feel his blood pumping through his body, and etch mine on the inside of his upper thigh mindlessly. 

“Got me so close, honey,” he starts, and you’re already eagerly nodding. Joel brings his thumb to your throat and slowly circles one spot against the column of your flesh. “Wanna feel myself right here, think you can do that, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes soften at the depth he wishes to go, but you’d do anything for him. You nod shyly and drop your jaw, flattening your tongue just for him. Always for him. 

Joel’s pace is gentle at first, working up a rhythm that has your throat molding perfectly around him. You gag each time he thrusts all the way, knowing when to swallow and when to breathe, Joel has taught you this new erotic art. 

The saliva dripping down to the base of his cock greets your chin repeatedly. You hollow your cheeks around him, and he moans naughty filth. 

“Such a pretty slut for this cock, make me feel so fuckin’ good- god damn,” Joel pauses with his length fully down your tight throat, grinding himself against your mouth as you clench your eyes close and gag. Joel places his thumb on that sacred spot against your neck, and he can feel his tip bulging against the column of your throat. You’re so fucking full of him, and it’s enough to make him spill. 

The hold he has on your hair tightens, scalp prickling as you cry out along his length. Salt bitters your tongue, weakly swallowing back load after load of his warm, thick finish. You swallow around his length and moan lowly, all muffled and messy for him as he crashes harshly through his own concocted orgasm. 

Your nails etch half-moon shapes into the back of his thighs, keeping him there, pushing for him to cross the finish line. And it was all for you. 

Tears of happiness stream down your face as you let him finish painting your throat, releasing with a dramatic pop as you do your best to swallow every last dribble. You’re careful as you give his sensitive tip a few sweet kitten licks. His hands are at the ready in your hair as he hisses harshly, ready to control you if it’s too much overstimulation for your poor old Daddy. 

Sponging kisses down his softening length, you lay your head against his thigh, and he cards his fingers through your hair. A soothing hum leaves your throat, fluttering your eyes closed as his thumb comes along to brush away the stray tears. 

It’s easier to ignore the throbbing between your legs now that Joel has found peace. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you listen only slightly as he begins to coo gentle affirmations for you.

Joel holds your hands and helps you stand, your arms already tiredly linking around his neck as you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he whispers, “always make Daddy so happy, you know that?” Your head bobbles loosely. His sweet remarks make your muscles even more pliant in his arms as he easily sweeps you off your feet and moves you to lie across the bed. 

Joel takes all of you in. Sweat glistening along your temple, parted lips lacquered in spit, the extra effort it takes you to swallow, how perky your nipples are, and the slick that’s all but made a mess down your thighs. 

“Shit, she’s so pretty f’me,” Joel whispers as you grin weakly.

“My turn now?” Your wrecked voice squeaks, to which Joel slowly nods, helping you pitch your legs up on the edge of the bed.  

“Your turn now, little bunny.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #The Last Of Us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #daddy dd/sub #dd/sub kink #dd!joel miller #dom/sub

[meowzfordayz]

revealing outfit prank — hashira men

Author’s Note: borderline 18+NSFW, but ~mostly just suggestive. 😉

revealing outfit prank — hashira men

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~2,000

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: You know those girlfriend pranks on YouTube where the girl wears a sexy/revealing outfit to out in? Can I have HCs of our Hashira with a S/O who tries to walk out in such an outfit? Of course, they respect her choice in wearing whatever she wants, but that outfit is too tempting...

~faqs~

“Hey babe, guess what I’m wearing!”

“Clothes…” 

—I mean, he’s not wrong 🙃

You huff, “Guess again.”

Gyomei pauses, wracking his brain for whatever else you could have on

“... not, clothes?” 🤨

“Well I’m not going out to dinner naked!”

“A cardboard box?” 😅

You can see his brow furrowing

He’s trying his best! 🥺

“So remember that slip dress I was describing for you a while ago?” 😏

His face warms as he recalls how you’d painted quite the picture of dainty ribbon details, an open back, and a satin hem that would barely brush past your thighs

He clears his throat, voice lower than before, “I remember that I encouraged you to buy it.”

He freezes, eyes widening, gaze focusing in the direction of your soft breaths, “You’re wearing it?!!!”

You giggle, he gulps

You can hear his inward groan 😩

“Isn’t it exciting?!” you squeal, stepping toward him, playful palms splaying across his chest as you grin up at his restrained expression, “I feel so pretty!” 😌

“You are so pretty,” he nearly growls, large hands settling promptly on your hips, “Maybe we shouldn’t go out after all.”

“Oh?” 👀

He chuckles as his fingers caress the silky, smooth fabric hugging your body, sensing the heat emanating from your bare, warm skin, eager to feel the curve and seduction of your spine, your shoulder blades, the tenderness of your nape

“I beg your pardon,” he rasps, an unfamiliar darkness in his tone as his fingers move upward to tug at your carefully tied spaghetti straps, tiny bows squished beneath the intensity of his touch, “I’m an adult, you know. I can have dessert for dinner.”

😳🥵🫠

—

“Gyomeeeiii!”

“My love?” ☺️

“I CAN’T POST THIS!” 😭😭😭

“And why not? Is my rizz too much for YouTube?”

“YES.” 😐

“You’re going out in that?” 🧐

You glare back, arms crossing over your chest

A not so subtle attempt to emphasize your tits 😌

Obanai not so subtly glances downward

“I repeat, in that?” 

“The hell is wrong with what I’m wearing?” you scowl haughtily, “I thought you’d like it!” 😞

Blinking in disbelief, Obanai rolls his eyes, amusement softening his judgmental expression 🙄

“I’m not a fucking idiot,” he grumbles, “Of course I love it,” glare returning as he points an accusing finger at you, “But the last time you went out in something like that you ended up stealing all of my layers because you got cold!”

“Well then wear more layers!” you quip cheekily

“That’s my line!” 😐

*sigh*

“Do you want me to change?” 😕

“Absolutely not!” he snaps, ears reddening even as he makes a disgruntled gesture, “But, please, grab a coat.”

“Are you fed up with me?” 🤗

You inch closer to him

His breath hitches

“No.”

“Are you suuure?”

You can hear his heartbeat now, can see the restraint in his hands as he keeps them firmly by his sides

“If we don’t leave soon, then I’ll show you how not fed up with you I am.” 🙃

You grin easily, lips grazing his earlobe as you murmur

“Obanai, I don’t think that was nearly as threatening as you hoped it was.”

He inhales sharply, stepping away from your sweet, sultry scent, feigning sullenness when he mutters

“Your tits are staring at me.” 😃

You laugh, bouncing on the balls of your feet just enough for them to jiggle slightly

“Or are you staring at my tits?” 😉

He audibly groans, head tilting backward as he averts his gaze

“I hate this.” 😒

—

Rest assured, you never make it to your reservation 🤫

The video never makes it to YouTube either

PornHub, however…

Jk, jk

And Obanai does not hate this 😏

“You are breathtaking!” Kyojuro declares, beaming with pride as you twirl for him

He’s doing his best to ignore the fact that he can see your lacey panties when you spin

“Thank you!” you smile, striking a pose for him, “I feel so amazing in this dress.”

“You are amazing in any dress!” 😁

He’s earnest with the perfect dash of seriousness — like he needs to know that you know you’re beautiful

A gentleman as always 🥺

You hesitate, feeling almost guilty as you ask slowly

“Am I only amazing?” 🤭

You hope you’re coming off coy and alluring 😅

For all of his awkwardness, Kyojuro is nothing if not straightforward

“You are also sexy! Most definitely sexy!” 😍

Your expression cracks, your giggling filling the hallway as endeared laughter accompanies you

“How sexy?” you wink, an exaggerated, playful flirtation

Fortunately, Kyojuro loves improv 😏

—Yes, and!

“The sexiest woman I have known, I know, and I will know.”

There he goes again

Earnest, serious, and almost unbearingly sweet 😭💘

“Kyo,” you persist, “I’m trying to seduce you.”

He grins at that, eyes narrowing so quickly you nearly miss the tantalizing glint that flashes through them

“Oh I am aware, sweetheart,” he purrs, gesturing with his index finger for you to twirl again

You do, oblivious to the way his jaw clenches, gaze thickens, your pretty, dainty panties on display for him once more

“Look at me,” he commands softly, relishing the dazed, dizzy, glowing color of your face, “Look at me, and tell me whether you have succeeded.”

You look

It’s impossible to miss his erection, straining against his pants, bulge teasing and beckoning you to come closer

—

You post the video, minus a sizeable chunk 😶

“So people are allowed to thirst over you, but not me?” ☹️

You snort as Kyojuro pouts, patting his arm consolingly, “You can’t really see anything when I’m spinning, but your dick is a little too obvious.”

He perks up at that, kissing your cheek with reassured confidence, “It is quite large.”

—Whatever makes him feel better, y’know 😆

—That being said, it is quite large 🫣

P.S. Kyojuro begs to differ; he can see plenty when you’re spinning 😃

Help this man 😵‍💫

He is TIRED 😮‍💨

—Don’t get me wrong!

Sanemi does his best to be a good sport 🥺

And he’s 1,000% watched your videos in “secret”, numerous times over; you are entertaining ☺️

On nights when you’re apart, he falls asleep to his Favorites list (which consists solely of you) on auto-play

But there’re just one (thousand) too many trends for him to keep up with, and he never knows when he’s going to be your ~victim again 🙃

“Is this another prank?” he sighs, only slightly exasperated as his eyes stray from your pretty mouth to your tits practically spilling from your top 🫣

“Oh, so now I can’t look nice without it being a prank?” you retort, scowling playfully, “Rude.” Raising his hands in mock defense, Sanemi smiles softly as you step closer to him

“You can touch me, y’know,” you murmur gently, “I’m not gonna break.”

Swallowing thickly, he lowers his arms, forearms hooking around your hips as he pulls you in

“Yeah,” he croaks, scanning the bedroom for wherever you might’ve hid your phone, desperation and desire bubbling in his throat, “But I’m not so sure about your outfit, it’s got so many strings and… and, holes.” 😃

You laugh cheerfully, squeezing his waist as you inform him, “They’re cutouts. They’re supposed to be sexy.” 😌

“They are,” he replies bluntly, stifling a long inhale as he willingly gives into his fate, “You are so fucking sexy.”

He’s already plucking at your shoulder straps, somehow boxing you in with his broad, chiseled body, even though it’s his back against the wall

“You’re not gonna ask me how I manage to avoid getting tangled?” you tease, your breasts pressed firm and warm into his chest as his heartbeat quickens

The question had occurred to him, but-

“Why the hell would I ask that when I could be untangling you instead?”

—

“Send me the video.” 😐

“Excuse me?”

You’re grinning

“Please.” 😞

He’s begging

You acquiesce, the thought of Sanemi jerking off to it later inspiring you to reach down again 😉

(Now imagine his faintly pained moan as you slowly caress him, valiantly hardening in your careful grip as he mentally prepares himself, this time intending to punish you; you can’t keep missing your reservations! 😤)

#the pranks are getting out of hand 😬

#but Sanemi can’t really find it in himself to be bothered 😶

#at least not when he’s already in something else 😏

“Why are you going out in that?” 🤨

“What are you implying?” you frown

“I asked first.”

You huff, “And your question offended me.” 😒

Grimacing, Giyuu glances downward, “I didn’t mean-”

“Do I look horrible?” ☹️

You almost feel badly, giggles brimming in your chest 🤭

“No.”

“Do I look too good?” 😌

You can practically see the gears turning in his head 

“Yes? No. Yes. Wait. I’m confused.” 🫠

“How does my outfit make you feel?” 😉

He pauses at that, swallowing nervously as you run teasing hands up your sides, accentuating your hips and bust

“I look good, right?” 🥺

“Of course.”

“Do I look too good?” 😏

*Giyuu Panic 2.0 activated*

“What does that mean?” 😭

He’s hushed, in awe of your luscious form, inhaling roughly when you step into his immediate proximity, the hem of your dress nearly brushing against his shins as you twirl for him

“Giyuu, am I turning you on?”

When in doubt, go for frankness

*Giyuu Panic 2.0 deactivated*

Ohhh 😳🙄😎 <— he gets it now

“Not at all,” he says smoothly, “You look quite comfortable.”

You pout, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt as you nudge his feet apart, slipping your leg between his thighs as you close the distance, your body pressing clumsy and hot against his

He sighs, a quiet, enraptured sound, delicately brushing the straps of your dress from your shoulders before he rasps, “I am turned on. Delightfully so.”

Your dress crumples sheer and light to the floor, Giyuu’s jaw ticking with desire as he realizes just how easily it slipped off

“And you,” he murmurs, delicious warning in his tone as he thumbs the undersides of your tits, “Are such a pretty slut.”

—

“Why is it that every time I try and prank you, you end up fucking me instead?” 🥲

“Hm,” Giyuu hums, voice thick with amusement, “Seems premeditated to me.” 🥴

“Giyuu-!” you sputter 🫣

“GiYuU!” he smirks 🙃

“Are you mocking me?” 😠

“And?” he grins 😎

“See if I ever prank you again!” 😤

“Oh you will,” he remarks, nonchalant and cool, “Judging by how many times we changed the sheets yesterday, I’m not even worried.” 😃

Ngl, Tengen’s a lil desensitized 😆

He’s got four wives

He knows you’re all hot af 😉

He knows he’s hot af 😎

There’s not much you can do to faze him

Except like, get injured or something, but that’s kinda the opposite of what you’re aiming for 🥴

“Does this mean we’re fucking after dinner?”

✨He has a way with words✨

“Tengen,” Hina scolds

“So vulgar!” Suma exclaims

“Don’t act so innocent when you’ve ambushed me looking like that,” Tengen mutters, pants already tightening as he takes in the silken fabric draped delicate and precarious over your breasts, “Who’s idea was this?”

“Whose do you think?” Makio snorts

“Tengen,” you say breezily, reaching out to grasp his hand, stroking a coy, tender thumb across his knuckles, “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

“Obviously,” he grunts, eyes shining with appreciation—a welcomed promise—as he raises your palm to his lips, kissing your fingertips one by one, “We’re not leaving.”

—

“Hold up, you made two reservations?” Tengen shrieks

Your eyes roll as if to say Duh, already rummaging for a new dress while Suma helps pat Makio’s back dry, steam from the attached bathroom wafting into the bedroom

“She’s always prepared,” Hina chirps proudly, kissing your jaw with a fond smile

“That, and Tengen’s always horny,” you smirk

You don’t really have a video suitable for YouTube 😅, but you do post Before/After photos of the ~prank on Instagram with a cheeky Unfortunately, the “During” photos are NSFW 😏🫢🍑🍆 caption

#hashira x reader #headcanons #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #iguro obanai #obanai x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

[halsteadlover]

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

• Summary: just a compilation of Charles’ ig posts showing how much he’s obsessed and in love with you and his baby.

• Warnings: none just pure fluff.

• A/N: I know I know… I’m a sucker for dad fics I just can’t help it 😭😭 this is my first time posting a smau so please be kind with me I know it’s bad 😭 let me know what I can do to do it better and what you think ❤️ love you all xx

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and other 1.718.661

charles_leclerc You have never been more beautiful than you are now mon amour. Watching you grow our baby is one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed 🖤

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user1 Charles whipped Leclerc is back in town!

charlos123 screaming, crying throwing up 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris find yourself someone who loves you like Charles loves his wife (I'm 5'10 girls)

oscarpiastri Shut up no you’re not

user88 💀💀💀

yourusername Je t'aime plus que la lune et les étoiles mon amour ❤️ We’re both so lucky to have you (I love you more than the moon and the stars)

charles_leclerc Je t'aime beaucoup plus bébé❤️ (I love you so much more baby)

versclerc the way he just answers her comments 😭

Tagged: yourusername

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charles_leclerc For you mon amour.

For you, who looks in the mirror and doesn’t like what you see but is truly the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

For you, who every single day gives me one more reason to love you even more, something I didn’t even believe was possible. Feeling something so strong for someone that the word ‘love’ isn’t enough to describe it.

For you, who taught me the meaning of true love and what’s really important in life.

For you, who are so beautiful that it still surprise me even after so many years being together how you manage to give me butterflies in my stomach.

For you for whom just one look is enough to make my heart race and my hands sweat.

For you who are the most beautiful thing life has ever given me.

For you, who can brighten my darkest day, who can make me the happiest that I’ve ever been.

For you, who gave me the most beautiful gift I could have ever asked for.

We can’t wait to hold you mon petit, please hurry up 🙏🏻❤️

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user24 GOOD FUCKING BYE

user98 Dragging my teeth on the concrete

mstleclerc CHARLESJSJSIDJSOSKSNSJ OMFGGGGGG 😭😭😭

carlossainz55 you’re making me want one of those little shits

Liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername

landonorris I almost shed a tear not gonna lie

Liked by charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc I’m so happy for you brother I can’t wait to spoil my nephew ❤️

Liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername

charles_leclerc By the way my wife just bursted out crying seeing this post and I was about to make a video but she literally threatened to kill me if I did ❤️ God I love her 😍

f1fun_12 This is such a Y/n thing to do 😭

sainzzzzzzzzzzzz As she should!

yourusername I can’t put into words how much I’m grateful for you and for everything you do for our little family. Our son is so lucky to have you as a father and I couldn’t have chosen a better husband. I’d be so lost without you baby, I love you more than my life ❤️ ps: stop making me cry for fucks sake I don’t have any more tears in my body thanks

charles_leclerc Can you please unlock the bedroom darling?

yourusername Nope, that’s what you get for trying to filming me

yourusername UNLESS……. You bring me a ketchup sandwich

charles_leclerc it’s already on the way my queen 👸🏻 your wish is my command

user7612 A KETCHUP SANDWICH??? What???

yourusername @user7612 it’s not my fault okay?

monof1 the fact Charles is so used to her cravings that he’s not even questioning them anymore 😭

charles_leclerc @monof1 fun fact: never NEVER argue with a pregnant woman especially if that pregnant woman is Y/n

monof1 @/charles_leclerc OMG CHARLES HI I LOVE YOU

charles_leclerc posted on his story

Viewed by yourusername and 99251 others

yourusername

What did I do to deserve you?

landonorris answered your story:

You’re so whipped mate

charles_leclerc can you blame me? Have you seen my wife and THAT baby bump?

carlossainz55 answered your story:

Yeah ok we get you’re in love and bla bla bla

Tagged: yourusername

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charles_leclerc There are only a few days left until our baby arrives and I’m scared and impatient at the same time. My wife is sleeping next to me now breathtakingly beautiful and I’ve taken some time to reflect on how these 9 months have flown by and I can’t believe it, it seems like it was just yesterday that we found out we were expecting a baby. I can no longer remember what my life was like before knowing your existence, little one.

I can't help but imagine and think about you in everything I do and every step I make, thinking about how beautiful it’ll be to see you take your first steps, to see you run around the house, dirty everything, to see you measure my helmets, to see you trying my race suits, to see you go to school, to see you grow in the beautiful and amazing person you’re going to be.

We’ll probably argue sometimes, although I’ll make sure that never happens, but whatever happens, just know that I loved you more than my life from the first moment since I saw that positive pregnancy test and I hope you’ll never forget it even if we have any argument.

Mommy and I are so eager to finally hold you in our arms, hear you cry and take your first breath in this new life. It hasn’t always been easy, I’ll be honest, and it won’t be easy but I wouldn’t change anything. I love you mon petit ange. 🖤

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user90 CHARLES 😭😭😭😭😭

maxlecsainz I swear it’s not that I don’t want a baby it’s just men are not like Charles Leclerc

y/nmommy1 who wants to take a quick bath with a toaster?

user65 I’m on my way sis

y/ncharles82772 wait for me I’m taking a nap on a highway right now

norrizzzzz528 I know it’s the bare minimum but seeing the way Charles loves his family makes my heart so happy 😭😭😭

lewishamilton I’ve never thought there would be a day where I’d be jealous of Charles Leclerc but here we are… Jokes aside I’m so happy for you mate 🖤

Liked by charles_leclerc

user209 you’re so real Lew

landonorris when will the child see his fav uncle?

arthur_leclerc EXCUSE ME?

lorenzotl you’re so delusional

carlossainz55 Yeah. Clearly I AM already his favourite one

pierregasly you’re all so wrong @/yourusername said he’ll like me the most 💁🏻‍♂️

charles_leclerc @/pierregasly she literally never said that?

pierregasly @/charles_leclerc oh shut up you know it’s true

user42 what is going on in this comment section??? 💀

daddylec16 the way they can’t never leave Charles in peace even in his comment section 😭

maxverstappen1 Once I saw Charles crying his eyes out because Y/n sent him an audio with the baby’s heartbeat since he couldn’t make it for the ultrasound

user66 OH MY GOD!!!!!!! 😭😭

maxalonso1995 STOPPPPP GIVE US MORE MAX

charles_leclerc THAT’S NOT TRUE I was just having an allergic reaction to dust

maxverstappen1 @charles_leclerc oh c’mon Charlie

user66 CHARLIEHSJSJDJJS FUCK OFF

charles_leclerc @/maxverstappen1 it only happened ONCE

leclercfan12 every day Charles comes on this app and has to fight for his life poor baby

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, lorenzotl and other 2.631.966

charles_leclerc Our little boy Jules Hervé Leclerc is finally here.

I can’t even put into words how over the moon we are right now, I feel like my life just started all over again. Watching my wife give birth to my son is an experience I’ll never forget, you’re a force of nature baby I can’t thank you enough for everything you do for me.

And to my little Jules I love you more than the air I breathe I can’t way to start this new life with you ❤️

View all the comments

yourusername Don’t let him fool you guys he went to sleep after I GAVE BIRTH

charles_leclerc OMFG THAT’S NOT TRUE DON’T LISTEN TO HER

yourusername hehe 😆 just kidding guys he’s the best. I love you so much Cha, Jules and I are so lucky to have you ❤️

user765 STOP THE WAY CHARLES IS CRYING IN THE FIRST PIC

user22 WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

mclarengirllll112 JULES HERVÉ LECLERC DO YOU HEAR ME FUCKING CRYING

norrizzzzz528 WHAT IF I JUST KILLED MYSELF

user976 OUR PRINCE IS HERE EVERYBODY MOVE

daddylec16 I know I’ll find someone who loves me like Charles loves his family. I just know it

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @klovesreading, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria

Charles Leclerc tag list: @softicecr3eam, @halsteadbrasil, @bwormie, @ssprayberrythings, @mynameisangeloflife

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[gracieheartspedro]

No One Fucks With My Baby

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller (based on established back story from my oneshot Who We Are)

description: everyone now knows that you are joel's girl. when you're working a busy night at the bison, a newbie stirs up a bit of trouble. joel handles it the only way he knows how and you thank him the only way you know how.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, drunk old men who harass reader, joel fucks them up, mentions of blood, glass breaking (?), voyeurism, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, pet names

author's note: this fic is dedicated to the birthday girl @ilovepedro !!! happy birthday sweet nini, I love you so much! thank you for helping me edit this, but more importantly, thank you for being a wonderful friend. you make the world a better place. love you always <3

after the amazing love I got on "Who We Are", I decided to add to the universe. let me know if y'all want more! xoxo, gracie

“Didn’t know they made jeans that low cut!”

You were used to stupid comments made towards you by drunk men. But now that Joel has made it known, you are his, a lot of the men in Jackson kept their advances to themselves. The gentleman at the end of the bar must not know that your big ole’ scary boyfriend was positioned in a booth with Tommy and your father across the room. His eyes had been locked on you for most of the night, and every time he and the guys needed more drinks, he’d be the one to grab more. 

You turn to the drunk man, who had to be your father’s age. He’s practically drooling at the sight of your ass in your favorite jeans. The summer air was not a good combination to a normally humid bar, so you had been wearing less and less clothes behind the bar. You were sporting the jeans and a tighter tank top than usual, mainly because you knew Joel would be around and you loved driving him wild when the shirt rode up on you. 

“You’re gonna catch flies if you don’t close your mouth,” You joke, pouring whiskey for another patron, “Don’t think you’d like the way that would taste.”

The man slams down his glass which causes a couple people to look down at him. You don’t even glance in his direction, knowing if he’s mad, he can take it up with every man in the Tipsy Bison. 

“I don’t take too kindly to sarcastic little sluts.”

Your heart stops. You calmly place the whiskey bottle down beside the shot glass you were pouring into and glance towards the red faced prick. You hear the conversations subside around the room while you lock eyes with the guy who’s bold enough to talk shit to you. 

You know Joel’s already standing up from his spot at his booth, but you move quicker. You position yourself in front of him, leaning over the bar, your eyes raking down the pathetic boy in front of you. 

“Pardon?”

He swallows, realizing how quiet his surroundings got. “I s-said I don’t take kindly to sarcasm.”

You click your tongue, a newfound confidence surging through your body, “I don’t think that’s all you said. Somethin’ about me being a slut?”

“Listen, girl-”

His boots are loud against the hardwood as he approaches you and the man. He stands scarily close to the barstool where the man sits. You don’t break eye contact though, wanting to handle this situation yourself. 

“It’s ma’am, to you,” You cut him off, “I think it’s best if you leave.”

“I haven’t finished my drin-”

Joel reaches around the guy and grabs the whiskey glass from in front of him and slams it on the floor. The guy immediately starts to tremble, shaking like a little leaf. You crack a smile before whispering one final thing to him. 

“Think you’re finished, buddy,” You flick your eyes up at Joel, who’s fury is written all over his face, “Mind walkin’ him out, baby?”

Joel grabs onto the guys shoulder with a bruising grip, “Would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

He rips the guy from the stool, not even making sure the guy finds his footing. You ignore the shuffle outside and return to your pouring. You feel like your heart may beat out of your chest, but you’re relieved it was handled before Joel got even more handsy with him. You grab the shot glass and hand it to the fellow that was sat by the drunken fool. 

“You got Miller wrapped around your finger,” The guy, who’s name you think is Aaron, says. He was a regular and frequently stopped Joel to talk about morning patrols. You smirk before snatching a rag off your shoulder. 

“Yeah, he’s so wrapped around my finger that he’s gonna clean up all that broken glass.” You joke, wiping down the condensation ring the glasses left on the wooden table top. 

You hear some footsteps approaching and when you look up it’s Tommy. He’s shaking his head, a grin playing on his lips. 

“Where’s the broom? Joel seems busy putting that guy in his place.”

You furrow your brows as you reach for the broom, “What do you mean?”

“I just sent your Dad out there because it sounded like some rustlin’,” Tommy explains, grabbing the stick from you to begin sweeping up the shards, “I’m sure they are handlin’ it.”

Before you can get nervous, you hear the front door swing open quickly. Your Dad and Joel walk in and you can tell Joel is pissed and a bit rattled. You navigate your way around the bar and glass, reaching their booth as soon as Joel sits down. He’s cradling his right hand in his left, hissing in discomfort. 

“What did you do?” You say, reaching out for his hands. There’s two gashes that litter his knuckles, only bleeding slightly. You shake your head when he pulls away from you. 

“Nothin’ baby,” he mumbles, “Just taught the guy it’s not nice to talk to ladies like he did. He walked off with a bloody nose and busted lip when he started talkin’ shit back.”

You roll your eyes, catching your Dad’s glare. 

“Did you break it up?” You press, wanting more of an explanation. 

He shakes his head, “Nope. Joel can handle himself. I did tell the guy when he was walking away that if he talked about my daughter like that again, he’d wouldn’t be able to walk away cause he would have a bullet between his eyes.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms under your chest. “I swear to God…”

Tommy approaches the table, his task of cleaning glass finished. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, “You okay?”

“I’d be better if the men in my life weren’t insane,” You joke, nudging Joel’s arm as he inspects his knuckles.

Tommy laughs and sits back down across from your Dad and Joel. While he makes jokes with your Dad, Joel is silent and stirred. You can tell he’s bothered by something more than handling some asshole who called you a name. You decide against pestering him more, allowing him to settle back into conversation with Tommy and your Dad. 

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and return to slinging drinks. 

-

“Thanks for staying while I lock up,” You say to Joel as pushing in the last barstool, “And thanks for earlier.” 

He is propped up on one of the middle pillars, his shoulder resting on the wood while his arms and legs are crossed. He was still being quiet, not giving into conversation. You approach him, your eyes trained on his arms. He was wearing a t-shirt for the first time all summer, which made you feel some type of way. His arms were tanned beautifully and toned. His biceps were perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of the gray t-shirt. 

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

You glance up at him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Tell me what’s got you all bothered.”

“It’s nothin’,” He uncrosses his arms and reaches out for you. You know it’s not nothing, so you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him forward. He looks a bit surprised. 

“It’s somethin’, so you better tell me what happened.”

He huffs, fanning your face with his breath, “That asshole said some shit about us and it set me off.”

You squeeze him a bit, “What did he say?”

You can tell he does not want to repeat it, but you were not going to let it go. 

“How I’m an old man with a young girl. How I’m old enough to be your dad.”

You feel sick to your stomach at the idea he had to hear some asshole say that. You look down between you, shifting your weight onto your other foot. You started to feel clammy, unsure of a good response that would reassure Joel. 

“He’s just some asshole. What does he know?” You manage to sputter. 

Joel’s shoulder’s sag, “He’s not wrong, though, baby girl. I’m an old man with a younger girl.”

You push away from him, scanning him up and down. You are pissed that he’s even bringing this up again, after all this time. 

“I’m a grown ass woman, Joel. A grown ass woman with a grown ass man. Just because there’s time in between us doesn’t mean we aren’t old enough to make decisions for ourselves.”

His lip curls, “I know baby, I am just saying that sometimes we get odd looks cause of the age difference. I really don’t care anymore… Just caught me off guard, is all.”

You fold your arms, “You put him in his place, right? He’s not gonna come around here sayin’ shit again?”

“He’d be stupid to come near you again. Think I got my point across.”

You feel like you owe him something. You had a couple ways you could repay him, ensuring that he never thinks about those stupid comments again. 

You use your arms to press up your bra a bit, your cleavage more highlighted with the gesture. Joel’s eyes trail down, the scoop neck giving away your suggestive movement. You step closer again, wanting to be in his space. 

“My man…” You trail, your eyes falling to his agape mouth, “Makin’ sure everyone knows I’m his.”

He nods slowly before his hand creeps around your waist, “What are you tryin’ to do, girl?”

“Nothin’,” you click your tongue. “Just thinkin’ of how I could repay you for handlin’ that for me. You hurt yourself defending my honor. I owe you.”

“Don’t think of it that way. You don’t owe me anything,” His fingers start to creep down to the curve of your ass. “But, I would love to see what you had in mind.”

“Oh, you would,” You hum, your arms unfolding to wrap around his neck. “Let’s start by walking back to your house.”

Instead of responding, he dips his head and peppers kisses down your neck, taking his time letting his fingers wander around the skin on your lower back and hips. Your skin feels like it’s on fire with every press of his lips. 

“Fuck,” You sigh as you try to bring him closer to you, but he’s not letting up on your neck. He’s suckling spots near your collarbone, groaning as you react to his every move. You knew at this point, this whole situation was in his hands and not yours. 

He lifts his head slowly, letting his bottom lip drag across your skin, “How ‘bout this… How ‘bout I take you right here over this bar? Maybe that asshole is nearby and he can hear how well I give it to ya.”

His proposition sends you into a spiral. You and Joel have had plenty of sex in different places, but the bar? And he wants others to hear? Usually he’s telling you that your moans are for his ears only, and while he wants you to be loud for him, you’re usually too timid to actually vocalize your pleasure. 

You place your hands on his expansive chest, “You want to fuck me here?”

He beams down at your question before he whispers, “I want to fuck you everywhere. Here, your bed, my couch, the shower. Hell, I’ll take you at this bar while people watch.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You huff, almost dizzy from the statement. 

He brings his hand up to tilt your head back so you look at him. When your eyes meet, he brings the hand up around your neck and to the nape, right where your spine starts. 

“God, I need you, sweet girl.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, Joel brings you in for a passionate and eager kiss. He’s feverish, his hands now wandering down to your ass. He starts to walk you backwards towards the now abandoned bar top. You knock into a couple chairs, but his arms keep you from tripping. His hands are propped on your ass, navigating you to the edge of the bar top. When your back is pressed against it, he starts to shove his thumbs under your waist band. He pulls away from your lips to push down your jeans, letting them pool on the floor.

“Spread your legs,” he grumbles, “I want to taste you.”

You do as you’re told, shaking your jeans off your ankles and spreading your legs. Joel falls to his knees like a man starved. You note his devilish smile when you do as you’re told. 

“I thought I was repaying you,” You choke out as his hands roam over your flesh. He chuckles darkly before pressing a kiss to your right inner thigh. 

“Lettin’ me get between these legs with my tongue is repaying me,” He clicks as pulls at your panties. He slides them to the side, getting a great look at how wet you are already. Your knees feel like they may give out any second just from the anticipation, so when his mouth finds your entrance, you rest your elbows on the freshly wiped down bar. 

Joel exploring you in this way was nothing new, but every time he went down on you, it was thrilling. He was simply so fuckin’ good at it. You never had a man take his time eating you out, desperately wanting you to cum straight on his tongue. 

The vibrations from his groaning sends shockwaves down your legs, causing them to shake. Joel’s hands are the only thing keeping you stable because even your elbows are slipping from the bar top. The suckling noises coming from him are obscene, especially because you’re standing over the bar at your work. You cannot help but try to balance yourself so you can grind yourself down onto his eager tongue. Before you can really get started doing that, he pulls away, his wet lips glistening under the overhead lights. 

He sticks his pointer, middle, and ring finger into his mouth, slathering them in his own saliva. You watch him carefully as he brings them up to your slit, adding to the slick that’s already there. 

“I want you to cum all over my fingers before I bend you over this bar,” He practically moans. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You can barely speak as his fingers slowly slip in and out of you, “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?” He adds another finger, curling them as he pumps in and out. Your head is spinning, watching his other hand spread over your lower stomach to hold you against the bar. You know what he wants, but you can hardly get the word ‘yes’ out, let alone the name he loves you calling him. You try to breathe in and center yourself, but the fire in your tummy burns bright. 

“Y-yes, Sir. Please m-make me cum.”

He latches his lips around your clit as he speeds the strokes of his three digits. You grab onto his dark curls to hold him there to ensure that he doesn’t stop putting all the pressure right there. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you cannot help but scream out in pleasure. 

He grabs your hips, not caring about your recovery. His dick is rock hard in his blue jeans and it makes you giggle in satisfaction. Joel has fucked you in so many different ways, but you do not remember a time he fucked you over counter.

Your upper body is laying flat against the wooden bar, your hands gripping onto the other side to steady yourself. You hear his zipper go down and then his hands are back on you. Your panties are stretched to hell already, so he practically tears the fabric off your lower body without any resistance. You chuckle at how vehement he is. He spreads your ass cheeks as he slips his cock between your closed thighs. 

“Gonna need you to spread some more for me, sweet girl,” He mutters, smacking one of your cheeks lightly, “God, you’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn, “Yes, Sir.”

You do as you’re told, spreading your legs for him. When you do that, his dick prods at your clit, before easing into your entrance. You and Joel fuck raw, so when he opens you up, you feel every vein and ridge against your walls. He’s thick and it always takes you a minute to adjust to the feeling. 

“So fuckin’ tight.”

He retracts back and inches forward again, letting you take in every inch of him. You grab onto the edge of the bar harder, your grip growing tighter with the action. He rests his grip on your hips, using them as leverage as he sets a steady pace. The moment his pace picks up, it’s like the motion pushes all the air from your lungs and you huff out louder. It only encourages him, but instead of keeping you in that position, he grabs onto your shoulders and lifts you up. You are lifted up to his chest, flush with his clothed upper body. He reaches around your arms and grabs onto your breasts through your thin v-neck. 

“J-Joel,” you nudge him with your free hands, “Let me take it o-off.”

He slows his thrusts and lets you pull your shirt over your head. Instead of unhooking your bra, Joel takes the liberty to do it himself. The straps drop off your shoulders and you peel the padding off your chest. His hands instantly cradle your breasts, kneading them as he jolts forward to continue fucking you. His thumb and pointer pinch and tug at your pert nipples. 

“Mmm,” He hums, “Only I can fuck you this good, huh?”

You whimper at his actions, “Only you, Joel.”

“That’s right.”

With that, he slips himself out of you, causing you to whine at the empty feeling. He moves you around like a rag doll, turning you around to face him. 

Joel’s eyes are dilated and his hands are moving quickly to lift you off the ground and press your lower back into the bar. You place your hands on his shoulders, knowing exactly what position he wants you in. 

He picks you up so seamlessly. It’s like when he’s horny or angry, he’s super strong and practically indestructible. He will probably complain how his back hurts later. 

Your knees fold over his forearms, perfectly spread open for his taking. 

You are so wet that he slips right into you. He uses the bar a bit for leverage as he fucks up into you, the angle completely sending you into a spiral. His eyes are perfectly trained on your chest, watching your tits jiggle as he drills into you. 

“Most perfect thing I ever did see,” He remarks between strokes. Your nails are digging into his shoulder, right above a scar he got a couple years ago when he was out on patrol with your dad. You remember it was the first time you saw Joel shirtless. He was sitting next to your Dad in the infirmary, getting stitched up from getting caught on a sharp tree limb. You remember thinking how tan and beautiful he was back then. 

Now you’re gripping onto his shoulders years later, his dick ramming into you and hitting you in all the right places. 

Life is so mysterious and wonderful. 

He bites his lip, putting all his focus into making you cum before he does himself. He’s a giver and for that, you’re extremely grateful. No man has ever put in as much effort. Before Joel, you did not know you could cum more than once in a single session. A couple months ago, he could not help his insatiable taste for you and made you cum 6 times. 

His thrusts begin to falter when he feels you clenching around him, the fiery thrill building in your stomach. Your legs feel like jello, but as soon as the orgasm hits you, they stiffen in his grip. 

“F-fuck Joel,” You whimper, stuttering at how good your body feels as your come down unravels. This orgasm is way more powerful, making you practically vibrate in Joel’s arms. 

He fucks you through the feeling, his finish quickly approaching. When he’s finally finding his own release, he slips out of you before he can cum inside you. You two had an agreement that he could only cum inside you if you explicitly say he can. Since you didn't even think about it, you watch as his seed spills all over your pelvic bone.

When you two catch your breaths, he gently places you down on the ground. He steadies your wobbly legs by holding onto your naked waist. 

You realize you are smiling like an idiot, completely blissed out on how good Joel made you feel. You find your footing, picking up your pants nearby. You don’t even bother with the material that used to be your underwear. 

You hear Joel behind you fixing himself up, zipping his dick back into his jeans. You pull on your pants, leaving them unbuttoned. You grab the material on the ground and ball them up. You prance over to Joel, his eyes raking you up and down. 

“You can keep this,” You joke, pulling at one of his front pockets. You tuck the panties into his pants, smiling widely. 

“‘M just gonna add them to the collection,” He replies, gripping onto the point of your chin. 

When he tilts your eyes up to meet his, your heart flutters at the action. He’s so beautiful with his fine lines and wildly untamed peppered curls. His eyebrows are furrowed as he contemplates your expression. 

You finally say it. Those three words that you had been meaning to say for months. The words that you had never said to another man ever. There was a distinct moment about 2 months ago, after you had dinner with him and Ellie, where you almost said it while helping him with the dishes. It was that steadying of your heart, a moment you felt most at peace with someone. He made you comfortable. He made you feel safe. 

“I love you, Joel.”

He drops your chin, his eyes soften at the statement. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Your anxiety starts to creep up your throat. Maybe you should not have said that. Fuck. 

“I-I…”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He says in almost a whisper before he takes your right hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. “‘M sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

Your body relaxes, reassured by his answer. You did not have any doubts about your feelings for Joel, but your mind could not help but over analyze every little thing he ever said to you, forcing you to assume he may not feel the same way. 

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a long kiss onto your knuckles. 

“Let’s get you home, sweet girl. I gotta get up for patrol tomorrow.”

#joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel last of us smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #gracieheartspedro

[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

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew grey gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #Emily Prentiss x Sister!reader

[sundrop-writes]

if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door. 

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way. 

You knew that sound anywhere. 

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him. 

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response. 

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around. 

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not. 

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later. 

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.” 

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can. 

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up. 

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck. 

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you. 

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed. 

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.” 

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot. 

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.” 

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed. 

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch. 

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place. 

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently. 

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out. 

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact. 

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it. 

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

#sundrop writes #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfiction

[becca-e-barnes]

all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #sub!bucky #bucky barnes smut #subby!bucky #this should technically belong to the shs series #but it fit this prompt too well so I'm using it here #I make the rules 😇 #but that 'thank you' nearly killed me #I've noticed this week that my beige flag is that I get so frustrated when people make assumptions about my capacity #I hate when people say stuff like 'how's the new job? you must be really stressed' #or worse 'things must be getting on top of you' #like ??? #why would you assume I can't handle what I put on my own plate? #I know people mean well but it really bothers me