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januaryembrs · 6 days

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THE KID HITS 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

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

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

plz...i beg you...fluffy sirius x gf!reader and he is just obsessed

all touch all the time, a million kisses, "no don't leave"

reader is insecure about it cause she's not used to being in loving relationships let alone one with The Sirius Black

yes this is the most basic plot but plz i'm starved for new sirius content

Thanks for requesting lovely!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 669 words

“Sirius.” Your voice is muffled through thick fabric. “Honey, this is excessive.”

You’re barely even walking, Sirius propelling you both along as he holds you tight to his side, half a dozen layers of cushioning between you. He scrubs his hand over your shoulder as if you need the extra warmth, looking at you worriedly.

“Darling, you can’t go out in this weather with a jacket that doesn’t zip,” he says, pulling your scarf up a notch. It tickles the bottom of your nose.

“I didn’t know it was broken until I put it on,” you defend yourself. “Anyway, I’m not cold.”

“Liar,” he accuses fondly, dropping a kiss just below the wooly band of your hat. “Listen, we’re almost there, and then we’ll get some warm butterbeer in you, yeah?”

You don’t bother arguing further, allowing him to all but carry you, your side pressed awkwardly against his, the rest of the way to the Three Broomsticks.

James and Remus both smile at you, expressions faintly puzzled, as you come inside. They’re sitting across from each other in the booth, and Sirius says, “Move, Prongs,” with such surety that James doesn’t even question it, sliding out of his seat and in next to Remus.

“Siri,” you chide softly as he finally peels away from you to sit down. Chilly air fills in the gap in your coat where he stood, and you shiver in surprise.

“I knew it!” Sirius cries, more distressed than triumphant. He reaches for you, hauling you into the booth and up against him. “C’mere, baby, let me warm you up.” He takes his gloves off before your own, rubbing warmth into your barely stiff fingers. Remus and James are silent, wearing nearly matching stunned expressions. Nearly, because Remus’ one eyebrow is quirked knowingly.

“Merlin, shortcake, did you come upon a blizzard out there?” James asks, confused.

“No,” you say embarrassedly, gently removing your hands from Sirius’ to take off your scarf.

“The zipper on her coat is broken,” Sirius grouses like it’s part of some larger plot against you.

“This is a ploy,” Remus decides. “He just wants an excuse to touch her.”

Sirius scoffs, pressing his warm hands to your cheeks. “I don’t need an excuse to touch my girlfriend,” he says, and plants an emphatic kiss on your chapped lips to prove it. “My motivations are twofold. Now can one of you be useful and get us some butterbeer?”

“Oh, I’ve got it,” you say, but you’ve barely set one foot out of the booth before Sirius is scrambling to get his arms around your shoulders, tugging you back to his chest.

“No, you stay.” He bands one arm around your waist and another just above your chest, keeping you securely in place. “One of the boys’ll get them, lovely.”

James lets out a low whistle as Remus gets up, heading towards the bar. “What’ve you done to him?” he asks you. “It’s all baby this and lovely that, can’t keep his hands to himself, and now he has separation anxiety?”

“She is lovely,” Sirius says, nuzzling your shoulder as you shake your head at James bewilderedly. “If you had someone like her, Prongsie, you wouldn’t want her to leave either.”

“Seems like a blessing and a curse,” James mutters, but he’s smiling.

“Siri,” you try, speaking quietly to him over your shoulder, “I’m feeling pretty warm now, baby.”

“Yeah?” He takes your chin in his hand, keeping your face angled to the side so he can kiss the corner of your mouth, the skin next to your eye. “That’s great, sweetness.” He starts tugging your coat off for you, placing it atop his own. You start to shuffle away, thinking the cause for your proximity is over, but he only adjusts you in his lap, intertwining your fingers and hooking his chin over your shoulder. “Mmm, yeah, this is better,” he decides, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Can get you even closer without all those layers in between.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black drabble #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #marauders era #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders #marauders fandom

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reiderwriter · 8 months

Text

♦️There Are No Words Left to Speak ♦️

Chapter 5 of That's What You Get

Prev Chap || Next Chap

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Fem Reader

Summary: In a panic, you spill your guts to Penelope and receive some much needed advice before your "date" with Reid.

Warnings: None!!

A/N: This one is 4k words long because I absolutely could not help myself 😭 I've has a lot of messages and asks about this series lately, and it's been really encouraging to see! If you like this chapter, please comment or reblog and let me know or come chat with me in my inbox! Happy Reading!!

You can find my masterlist here and the series masterlist here.

"Penelope, I fucked up and I need your advice," you screamed into the room as soon as the door slammed open, startling the other woman as she threw her phone up in surprise.

"Jesus, Y/N, you're lucky I didn't reach for the all too full can of pepper spray I store in here, oh my god."

"I'm sorry, Pen, I'm just, I'm kinda freaking out, and I need your help."

"Are we going to need wine, or are we going to need ice cream and a chick flick? What kind of problem are we talking here?" she asked from her place at the desk.

"I married Spencer in Vegas." You said and then clamped your hand over your mouth as you finally let the pressure of the weekends mess seep out of you now that you'd shared your secret.

"Oh my god, both, we'll do both. We need both, let's go, let's go now."

–X–

Penelope drove the two of you home, immediately moving into a mothering role as soon as the words left your mouth, and she could see your impending implosion. You were grateful that she didn’t ask you any further questions as you made your way back to her apartment, just turning on the radio to a channel playing 90s pop hits and simply letting you calm down through the fun music.

When you finally got through her door, she let you get comfortable and then immediately came back with all the things she promised.

“Okay, I know you’re more a rose girl, but all I have is this really nice white that Derek got me for my last birthday and half a bottle of tequila, and I think it’s better for the both of us if we don’t open the tequila. Also, I have chocolate, cookie dough ice cream, and tissues, and When Harry Met Sally on DVD, I'm ready to be plugged in and played as soon as you say the word.”

“Penelope, we do not tell you how brilliant you are as often as we should.”

“While that is true, I’m trying my best not to immediately cave and ask you to spill, so can we please sing my praises after you explain what you mean by saying you married Spencer.”

“God, Penelope, I don’t know what happened,” you let your head hang in your hands and she immediately moved to sit closer to you, rubbing a hand over your back and getting the tissues ready.

“We went out drinking, and my mom got in my head earlier in that call I took, and I don’t remember anything and then I woke up and we were in bed together and-” you rambled out, lifting your head up as you tried to explain, but she cut you off quickly there.

“You were in bed together? Did you… you know, bump uglies with Spencer? Do the old in n’ out? Sorry, I’m making this worse, I’ll shut up now,” she said, but you laughed at her enthusiasm, and you felt more of the weekend’s tension leave your body. You knew that you had made the right decision coming to Penelope with this. She always knew how to make you feel better.

“I don’t know, but it looks like it. TMI but-”

“Hold on, I don’t think I want to know what the Good Doctor is like in bed.” She visibly shuddered, and you let out another shaky laugh.

“Well considering I remember none of it, you’d be hard pressed to get those details from me. I did wake up handcuffed to the bed, though.”

“Shut the front door, no you did not!” Penelope’s jaw dropped. “Oh god, I’m almost morbidly curious, but I don’t want to open that can of worms. Sorry, please continue.”

You took a swig of the wine she poured you and relaxed a bit further into her couch, pulling your legs up under you to find a more comfortable position as you told the rest of your story to Penelope, gaining more confidence with each of her reactions to what you told her.

“So, now we just need to track down our two witnesses and get the marriage quietly annulled, and we can forget it ever happened.” You could hear the frown in your voice before you realised you were making that kind of expression, and from Penelope’s reaction, you could see that she’d noticed too.

“Oh.. oh, I know that look. You don’t want the annulment, do you?”

“Yes! I mean, no! Look, I really don’t know how to answer that right now, it’s just…” you trailed off, and Penelope silently filled your wine glass again, not saying anything and letting you come around at your own pace.

“Earlier today, after we told Rossi, and before I came running to you, he… he kissed my forehead, and he called me Mrs. Reid, and I really liked it. And I didn’t think about it before, but Reid is nice, and he is good, and he is obviously really smart, and, god he’d be a great dad, and he took care of me yesterday and today… Penelope, I think I have a crush on my husband.” You gasped out, feeling the weight of your revelation as it hit you straight in the gut.

“But we talked about it and we’re getting an annulment and now it’s like I fucked up before I really got the chance to let it go anywhere, and what if it’s a mistake? What if I made the world’s greatest fuck up and married a great man in Vegas and then threw it all away a week later?” you raked your hand through your hair quickly, trying to ignore the tears forming quickly in your eyes.

“Oh my god, sweetie, it’s going to be okay… You’re going to have to trust me when I tell you that it’s going to be okay…” she patted you on the back and you let the tears fall down a bit, quickly dabbing them away with the now balled up tissue in your hand.

“I don’t know if I can, Pen…” you tried to smile up at her, but you could feel your lips wobbling and you let your head hang again before you could let out a choked sob.

“No, nonononoonono, listen to me… Okay, promise you won’t hate me after I say this?” She said, squishing your cheeks between her hands as she made you look up into her eyes.

“I pwomise,” you sniffed out, voice muffled by her strong grip. She let you go then, content that she had your attention.

“I know for a fact that the boy is as infatuated with you as you are with him because… because I saw you two.” She stopped there to watch your reaction, but you froze, so she continued.

“You… you called me from wherever you guys were out in Vegas, mumbled some words over the phone and then sent me a picture of a brochure with an address on it, and then when I turned up it was a wedding chapel and you were getting married.” She winced out those last words, and you gasped at the confession.

“You were one of the witnesses! Penelope!” You pointed an accusatory finger at her, but it was half-hearted. You knew that you were stubborn enough while sober. You certainly wouldn’t have been persuaded out of something you obviously wanted while blackout drunk.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but you guys were just too cute! He was giving you all these small kisses on your forehead and on your cheeks, and you looked like innocent kids giddy and high on love, and I didn’t want to bring you back down to earth. You looked so happy, and I do not make it a habit to get in the way of my friends’ happiness.”

“Penelope, why didn’t you say anything?” You groan out, sounding a bit like a petulant teenager who has just discovered her mom threw out a shirt she hadn’t worn in years.

“I wanted to, but I was told not to…” she winced away. “And before you ask, I won’t tell you who else was there! Just know it was someone else who also loves both of you and would’ve pulled you two out of there. No questions asked if they thought you were making a stupid decision!”

You let the revelations sink in, one by one. Penelope was there. Reid couldn’t keep his lips off of you. The other witness thought you two were good together. It almost didn’t surprise you when you started giggling, finding humour in the situation at least.

“Oh my god, Penelope, I got married in Vegas to my coworker. And I think I’m in love with him now.” You were in a fit of giggles now, and Penelope hesitantly joined in at first.

“Yeah, I suppose it is funny when you put it that way.”

“God, what am I going to do? How am I going to face him from now on?” You pulled yourself together again and faced Penelope again, hoping that she would have actual answers for your very rhetorical question.

“Well, at least we have a couple of days off now. You don’t have to see him again until we go to work.”

“No, we have a date tomorrow,” you said matter-of-factly. “Appointment, really, he’s reading some books on alcohol induced memory loss tonight, and then I’m going over to his place to see if any of it can help us fill in the blanks.”

“Oh god, you’re going to talk books with Reid. That’s practically as romantic as it gets for him. No wonder he wifed you up.” You playfully kicked her leg, and she laughed again. “Okay, so no avoidance, okay. Maybe you could put the moves on him? Try to recreate that scene with the handcuffs. Who knows what might happen.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you then, and you did your best not to once again be overcome by a fit of giggles.

“Okay, enough of my romantic problems. I was promised When Harry Met Sally and that ice cream has probably melted, so let’s get to it.”

–X–

You braced yourself at the apartment door as you psyched yourself up to knock. As promised, you’d been greeted in the morning by a text from Spencer with his address and a proposed time to meet. He’d suggested 5pm, and you’d agreed, but here you were 20 minutes early, probably looking overdressed and over eager to spend time with your coworker/ husband/ soon to be former husband, maybe.

You’d left Penelope’s apartment that morning, having had an impromptu sleepover, happy that you’d at least confirmed your own feelings. You’d taken a taxi to collect your car, then spent the rest of your time at home overthinking and overpreparing.

You’d put on a dress and some make-up, and you were almost regretting the decision now you were on his doorstep, wondering what he’d think. You worked one of the toughest jobs in the world together, and you knew that he’d seen you completely black and blue after going blow for blow with unsubs in the past. Would he think this sudden effort was weird? You tried not to pace, knowing that your footsteps in the hall would alert him to your presence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to knock just yet.

You checked your phone again. 4:45. You couldn’t spend another fifteen minutes out here overthinking, so you finally just pushed ahead and knocked. Almost as if he had been waiting on the other side of the door this entire time, Reid answered immediately, not even letting you get a third rap in before he was there standing in front of you.

“Hi,” you said, standing there awkwardly with your hand still up, ready to knock again.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at you.

You felt his eyes trail down your body, taking in your appearance. The dress you’d chosen wasn’t particularly special, just a mid-length tiered dress with bow straps. The weather was getting chillier so you’d layered it over a plain turtleneck, enjoying the added bonus of not having to conceal down your neck to mask the love bites he’d lavished upon you only a few nights prior.

You looked at him as well, and you were pleasantly surprised by his casual wear. He was more dressed down than he was in the office, but not by much. He was still wearing slacks, and a button down shirt as well, but he’d thrown a beaten up CalTech sweater over the top of them, and he looked so cosy you wanted to bury your head in his chest. He was wearing his glasses, and you were so thankful for that, as you forgot how well they suited him, fitting him perfectly.

“You’re early.” He said, finally breaking the silence between the two of you, drawing you out of the trance he’d kept you in while you took in the sight of him.

“Yeah, I guess I just overestimated how long it was going to take to get here. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great, totally fine. Come in.” He moved his body to the side slightly so you could enter the door, but kept his outer arm pressed against the door so you had to duck under it, brushing past him as you went. The small contact made your entire body buzz, your heartrate picking up as you willed yourself to act natural.

“The food should be here any minute.” He smiled as he followed you back into his apartment. “I wanted it to arrive before you got here so I could surprise you.” You turned around to face him, and you could hear the bashfulness in his voice as he made the admission.

“Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you smiled up at him. “What did you order?”

“I remembered you mentioned that Korean streetfood place a while back that does those spicy rice cakes and kimbap rolls, so I got us some of that. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect.” You were touched that he even remembered the conversation when you yourself couldn’t even think of when it might have happened. He turned and walked further into the apartment, and you followed him this time, finally looking around and taking it all in.

The walls were obviously lined with bookshelves, and there were books laying around in piles everywhere. The walls were painted a dark colour, which made the space feel calming, almost more intimate, and sunlight was streaming in from the open window on the back wall.

“Sorry, it’s not much. Take a seat wherever, and I’ll grab those books I was talking about.”

You took a seat on the couch and watched him trail around the room, picking up books from several shelves and stacks.

“Okay, this is all of them. So the main takeaway is that it usually takes two weeks to fully recover memories from alcohol induced blackouts.” He explained, bringing you a stack at least eight books high.

“Spencer, did you read all of these last night?” You asked.

“Yeah, I said I would, I thought it would help.”

“Spencer,” you took his hand into yours as he set the books on the floor and flopped down to the couch beside you. “I really appreciate you putting in all this effort to help us, but you could’ve just come home and relaxed, you know. Our case was long and tough, and now all of this, you deserve a break.” You stroked your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to make the gesture calm and reassuring.

“I know, I wanted to do this. I want to remember what happened between us,” he whispered the words softly, not needing to fill the space with much sound as you’d crept closer and closer together since he’d returned.

“So, uh, two weeks then, is that it, we just have to wait for the memories to return?” you asked quietly, letting go of the small moment you’d shared to get back to the task at hand.

“It seemed so, but there are some other more general tips we could implement that could help us piece together what happened. We might at least be able to figure out who our witnesses were.”

You felt almost guilty then, but you kept your mouth shut. You’d decided the night before that you wouldn’t tell Reid about Penelope. At least not yet. You wanted the time first to see if he could possibly feel the same way about you before you worked up the courage to let him in on what you had learnt.

“Yeah, I’m open to try anything. Within reason, that is.”

“Great! I was thinking at first that maybe we could do a cognitive interview, but as we only have each other to work with, I thought that might make some of our answers more biased and not garner effective results. But we could still try to jog our memories by working out some of the same emotions, doing some things we could have done that night, and seeing if any of it rings a bell?”

“Some of the things we did that night?”

“Yeah,” he repled.

“Like… like make out or get handcuffed to a bed?” You enjoyed watching the flush creep up his neck, and his eyes go wide as he struggled to backtrack on that one.

“No, no! I mean, unless you want to, or you think it would help?” It was your turn to be left speechless, your mouth suddenly not complying with your brain as you begged yourself to respond somehow. All you could muster was a glance down at his lips that lingered a bit too long, your body slowly creeping forward.

He noticed and moved closer towards you as well, letting his hand grasp your waist as you got caught in his atmosphere.

“It’s worth a try, right? To regain our memories.” He supplied you with the words, letting you stay silent as your lips grew closer and closer together, seconds away from taking your breath away forever.

A loud rap at the door and a shout of “delivery” had the two of you suddenly bouncing away from each other, Reid scrambling to the door to collect the food, while you stood up awkwardly and tried to pretend there was something really interesting on his bookshelf that had caught your attention all of a sudden.

For the Nth time in so many days, you found yourself trying to convince your heart to beat a little quieter, and you managed to get yourself under control as he returned with the food.

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time…” he trailed off as you nodded, joining him back at the couch as he began unpacking the food.

“It’s totally fine, we should eat anyways, trust me when I say this stuff doesn’t taste even half as good cold.” You smiled at him, but it didn’t go quite to your eyes. You really wanted to kiss him, and you were really doing your best to control your disappointment, not wanting to show off how desperate for him you were.

“Well, you’re in luck, because you now get to witness one of my only flaws,” he said, fishing out two sets of chopsticks from the delivery bag. “I am absolutely terrible with chopsticks.”

You giggled at him and grabbed the pair he offered you, letting out a dramatic fake gasp. “And you only tell me after we get married? That’s it, I want a divorce,” you laugh, and the two of you settle down into a comfortable silence as you begin your meal.

–X–

Two hours later, and you’re still no closer to locking lips with the man than you were earlier. You’d had a nice time talking with him over the food, both of you sitting like kids on the floor as you ate over his coffee table. He’d told you about a Korean film festival he’d attended a few years back, one of many international film festivals he’d been to, and you sat and listened, in awe of the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something that excited him. You hoped that one day, he’d talk about you in that same way.

You helped him clean up and settled back onto the couch, where he’d mentioned having a copy of one of the films that had since been subtitled, and you ended up in another movie marathon.

The movie was good, but his presence next to you was even better. He’d stretched out his arms on the couch behind you, letting you snuggle up into his side as you pulled your legs up and under you, screwing yourself up in a comfortable little ball, burrowing into him for warmth. He was a fire beside you, and you wished you were bold enough to push further into him, to drag your hands across his skin and feel even more of him, continuing the exploration from earlier. But you weren’t, and, honestly, you were tired, so you let yourself sit peacefully beside him, touching but not much, as you were lulled to sleep by the sounds of the TV.

It was pitch black outside when you finally cracked your eyes open again, but he was still there next to you on the couch. The movie had been turned off, and so had the TV, and there was a blanket now wrapped around your legs, so he had obviously moved, but he had also come back to you. You shifted your head up to look at him and smiled. He’d picked up another book from who knows what shelf and was reading slowly so as not to wake you with the movements of his hand as he traced down the page. Your head had moved from his chest to his lap, and he held the book off to the side in one hand, his other resting protectively over your waist. He was so engrossed by his book that he hadn’t even realised you’d moved and that you were awake until you spoke to him.

“Spencer? What time is it?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

“It’s 11:30. You fell asleep during the movie and you looked like you could use the sleep.”

“Wow, what a way to tell a girl she doesn’t look so good,” you laughed at him as he pouted down at you.

“I didn’t mean that. Y/N, you look beautiful today. You look beautiful everyday.”

You lifted yourself up from his lap, one hand braced on either side of his legs on the couch as you bought yourself eye-to-eye with him, your chests close enough to touch if you took a big breath in. Instead, yours were shallow as you looked up at him through heavy eyes.

“Thank you, Spencer.” You whispered, silently begging him to close the space between the two of you. But he didn’t, instead, clearing his throat and putting his book down, breaking your eye contact.

“I should be getting home now. It’s pretty late.” You said, standing up from the couch. He followed you up and around as you started collecting your things and organising the space you’d occupied.

“Y/N it’s late, and you’re tired. I can’t let you drive home like that. An estimated 30% of road accidents occur due to sleep deficiency, you know.”

“It’s fine, I don’t want to get a taxi and just leave my car here and then have to come back in the morning. I’ll be fine driving,” you said, but he softly took the keys out of your hands as you grabbed them from your bag.

“Stay here tonight.” He said, less of a suggestion than an already established fact. You looked up at him and knew there was no changing his mind, but he continued anyway.

“I have a spare toothbrush and some old clothes you can probably use as pajamas, and it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before. Maybe…maybe waking up next to each other again will help jog our memories, too. We only have until the end of the week, right?”

He looked at you expectantly, and you let out a little sigh and nodded your head, letting him guide you away to the bedroom and back into sleeping in his arms.

--×--

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#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #that's what you get

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thekissofaphrodite · 4 months

Note

Can you do a smut part 2 for “Waterloo” where clarisse gets really jealous and tells reader that if she breaks up with her boyfriend she will ✨reward✨ reader so reader breaks up with her boyfriend after some contemplating. When clarisse found out that reader actually broke up with him she drags reader somewhere and smut pursues.

THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I IMAGINED IT??!??! HOLYSHII

Take a chance with me

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Aphrodite!Reader

PART 2 OF WATERLOO

Summary: After the incident in the bathrooms, Clarisse decided she had enough of your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend.

Warnings: (Light) SMUT. Cursing and cheating, misogynists (Remind me if i missed one!)

Author's note: THIS TOOK KINDA LONG SINCE THIS IS A COLLABORATION WITH MY BESTFRIEND, I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS! (i added a little twist in the end)

Collab with -🍵 <33

It was another painful day with your boyfriend, Keith. Camp Half-Blood was still in its normal route, Daily Practices, Bonfire singalongs, Games, But there's someone who you can't stop thinking about.

Clarisse

Her chapped lips moving in sync with your soft ones while your lipstick smudged. It was all tempting.

But now here you are, With you boyfriend's gang, trying not to cringe every time they made a bad joke, You could only stare at Clarisse from afar, while she trained with her siblings, Yelling at them at the same time.

I love charlie, But you aren't mine.

"How 'bout you, Y/n? why're you here? shouldn't you supposed to be in tea parties making friendship bracelets and painting your nails?" Asked logan, One of Keith's friends. Then, all of them started laughing, You looked at your boyfriend, trying to spot any signs of empathy, But he, himself laughed along with his friends.

That bitch.

Then you snapped.

"The only thing that you should be doing right now is to keep that pretty little mouth shut" They walked towards you, Your boyfriend, Keith had the same look they had, Rage. You wondered for a second, Why was he looking at you like that? Why was he siding with the people who wronged you?

"How about you? Logan? Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on your Godly parent since you haven't been claimed yet?" You raised a brow at him while looking stern, "I'm certain any God would be embarrassed to have you as their son. Hence being unclaimed for almost two years straight" Your lips curled into a small smirk as you watched his eyes widened in fury.

The gang then stood up and looked at you, eyes fuming with anger as if it could eat you alive. You never meant it, You even felt sorry for the poor boy, But you couldn't help it, They were like this every time you were with them, Is it so bad to stand up for yourself?

You stepped back, carefully analyzing their faces, keeping an eye for any upcoming blows or attacks, As they slowly walked towards you, You bumped into someone.

She held her head high, towering over you even though you were only two inch shorter than her. Seeing Clarisse, you felt relief wash over you, internally sighing, You let your guard down a bit, but not entirely.

Shit. You thought. Your mind panicked thinking that you got cornered by them and on instinct you immediately thought of using your charm speak, trying to find an escape route. Yet determined to fight against them you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the amount of people you're about to fight.

As you were trying to find the right words to use against them, You felt a strong body behind you, you quickly turned around and saw none other than Clarisse La Rue. Her usual intimidating demeanour still plastered on her face as she glared at the group of boys.

"Is anything the matter?" She asked, Her eyes darting from you to the group of boys.

"None of your damn business, La Rue. Let us do our thing" One of the boys, Yuan, said.

" By 'thing' you mean terrorizing MY 'friend' her to death?" Hearing those words you refrain to sneak a glance at Clarisse, As if she didn't just fucked you inside the camp bathroom days ago.

Someone scoffed, It was Keith. Looking at Clarisse with a judgeful look.

"She's MY girlfriend, La Rue. Therefore my property." He said with a boastful look. "Who are you to stick your nose around our business? You're just an outsider in this.. —" Registering Clarisse's words, he sent a scowling look towards you, Forgetting the current situation he turned around to face you fully. "L/n." There was it again. The use of your surname and that warning tone he uses whenever you two argue.

You loathed moments like this. Every argument you had with him you always felt belittled while trying to fight for your rights, but it always ends up with Keith shifting the blame to you every.single.damn.time. "What? Levine." You answered firmly, But this time, You aren't backing down this war of words.

Your expression changed, Your eyes says it all, But you kept your head high. When Clarisse was about to defend you, you quickly stretched out your arm to refrain her from doing anything rash. "You've got the nerve to say that when YOU'RE the one who's following them around, doing EVERY SINGLE THING that they asked for!"

Keith then sneered at you, He was never used to you talking back, But here you are, standing proudly, ready to defend yourself. But of course, he bites back. "Friends? really? Impossible, You know your mother and her father had relations, Long story short, Fucking. Plus, look at La Rue, Compared to her, You're just an attention seeking lapdog"

At that moment, Clarisse was ready to pierce her spear into your shitty boyfriend's head, Thinking about it.. the sight of him with his head pierced pooling with blood made her quite satisfied.

Keith's expression changed, He knew what was gonna happened, That's why he stepped up and approached you, Trying to hold your hand.

"I'm sorry baby" He whispered,as he got a hold of your hands. "You know I didn't mean to insult you like that, I love you Y/n, you know that right baby? I love you so much Y/n". Clarisse raised her dark brows, Looking at you, waiting for your response.

"Okay...I forgive you.." You whispered, Your breathing became normal and you didn't know why, You didn't know why you always give in his sugar coated lies but you couldn't refuse his touch and those doe eyes of his. You could've easily be more mad at him but you knew better than adding fuel to the fire when a lot of people are watching.

Not long after hearing your response, Keith then smiled 'sweetly' as he hugged you. Pressing his nose against your soft hair as he inhaled your sweet scent.

Clarisse's POV

Clarisse stood there awkwardly, Watching you with careful eyes wondering, Why the fuck you forgave him and why the the fuck were you still willing to be with that sick bastard.

I clutched my spear in hand, whilst watching Y/n from afar, Already with her pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. It had been a week since that incident in the mess hall happened, I wondered why she would submit easily to his will, Just a simple apology wouldn't make the cut.

Then, I saw her kiss her boyfriend's lips before getting up, the sight of keith's lips touching her was enough to make me gag. I wanted to talk to you, shooting one last glance at my half siblings, I slipped away and followed Y/n.

Y/n was heading towards the Amphitheatre, I suppose she was there to meet her friends, But before she could even reach the steps, I pulled her aside near the armory, When her back hit the wall, I slammed the door shut and opened the small light switch.

She was about to scream, But as soon as the light illuminated the room and revealed me, She closed her mouth and sighed.

"Clarisse..What—" Before she could even answer i cupped her cheeks and looked into her eyes, Her brows furrowed, Her eyes darting to my eyes and lips.

Then, I kissed her, Not because of passion, Because i was mad at her, Because she was still with the boy either of us hated, Mad at her for kissing him every stupid arguments when she was supposed to be mine. I kissed her hoping that this is the final time I get to kiss her in the shadows. "Break up with him." I said to her in a whisper as I pulled away from the kiss, her eyes widened in shock, lips quivering nervously or was it excitement?

I waited eagerly for her response, Imagining all of the things we could do together without her boyfriend sticking his nose into our business, wanting her back while she's still in my arms. My trance was broken when I saw her face deplete in a disagreeing expression, I immediately pecked her lips before whispering in her ear. "Because if you do, I might just give you a special reward in return"

I winked at her, My arms still gripping her waist, "What kind of reward?" She asked, Her eyes beaming with hope. I then caressed her cheeks "You'll have to find out"

That sentence made her think for a moment, I watched her carefully, Praying to the Gods that she will agree, So that I can finally hold her hand and kiss her right in front of everyone. Loudly and Proudly.

After a moment, I was rewarded with the sight of her nodding in agreement, "Yeah, I'll do it" I smiled, so widely that my cheeks hurt, But I couldn't care less, She also smiled, Making my heart melt as i felt her lips touch mine.

It was now the next day, the day after that talk you had with Clarisse in the armor room and the day you'll finally dump your shitty ass boyfriend. Making you way through out the camp you walk towards cabin 9, opening the door you welcomed yourself into your boyfriend's- well soon to be ex boyfriend's cabin. As you were about to call out his name you heard a noise, "What if someone sees us, Honey?" You heard a female voice say — It was between a moan and a gasp.

You walk into the room more careful not to disturb their "love making", you cleared your throat. "Excuse me?" you said in an uninterested tone, you watch the two quickly pull away from each other, Keith even pushed the girl away, making her yelp as her body hit the cold ground.

You peaked through the small corner that seperated you and— well, Keith and and his lover. The girl that Keith was kissing sat on top of the counter you onced sat, Her hands roaming around your soon to be ex's body, Followed by his groan. "Then let them see my love, let them see how much we love each other" Keith said to his lover while letting out a small breathy chuckle.

At first you wanted to back down from all of this and break down in your cabin but then you remembered Clarisse's words.. 'Break up with him. Because if you do, I might just give you a special reward in return'. That's when you realize you're not going to lose anything except a little bit of face and reputation,but you'll be free from your shitty boyfriend's manipulation, you'll be free from the toxicity of this relationship, you'll finally be with Clarisse.

"What was that for?!" She yelled, her hair disheveled, But keith ignored her, Stuttering and trying to find right words to explain what you just walked into.

"Sweethea-"

Before he could even explain, You slapped him, Fast and Sharp, He tumbled lightly, But thanks to his muscular body, he managed to keep his balance. Keith clenched his jaw.

"Save it, Keith. I don't wanna hear excuses coming from your mouth that once touched mine! You're disgusting"

You glared at the girl, ready to attack her, but your instinct stopped you, You looked at them with red eyes one last time before leaving. You didn't care if they started kissing again, You didn't care if they talked shit about you, All you cared about is that you're free.

After storming out of the hephaestus cabin, Your first thought was Clarisse, There was no more plotting on how to conduct your affair without him seeing, for the Gods see everything.

You then ran around camp, trying to spot your lover for you had missed her so dearly, craving her touch every second that passes by.

Then, You noticed every camper huddled into small groups, heading towards the camp fire, the ares cabin slowly emptying itself, But Clarisse was nowhere to be found, You felt disappointed but there was a little hope inside you, That's why you walked towards her cabin, You could've sworn you saw her silhouette, Peaking, You saw her sitting on the edge of her bed.

She looked- Nervous...? But her face changed when she saw you, The Ares girl stood up and ran towards you.

"Well?" She asked breathily, Waiting for the response that can change your lives.

"We're over, Him and I" Clarisse felt like a big heavy boulder has been lifted up her shoulders, She then proceeded to cup your cheeks, Her eyes glistening with love.

"Good, He doesn't deserve you" She whispered before kissing you, Pushing you into her bed, You groaned and ran your fingers through her messy curls as she bit your lower lip. You let out a small moan before feeling her palms going in your inner thighs, She pushed you, until you felt your legs touch her bed, She laid you down, straddling you. Clarisse pulled away, taking the matters into her own hands, she undressed you herself, revealing your red bra, It lifted your breasts, That made her smile, watching it rise up and down.

You then tugged on her shirt, Desperate to see her, Clarisse smiled and undressed herself, Her bra was a black one, with laces, But it didn't held your breasts up, It seems like her bra was merely a decoration.

It all then happened so fast, Clarisse's sweaty body pressed against yours as you two moaned, Legs intertwined, moaning each other's names. Her peppering your neck with hickeys mercilessly while her legs rubbed between your thighs creating unimaginable frictions, Her fingers inside you, Curling themselves. Clarisse watched you carefully, gasping and moaning gripping her sheets for dear life, She didn't care if her fresh sheets were stained, as long as it came from you.

Clarisse pressed her lips against your red ones, Gripping the back of neck, pressing you closer to her, she whispered "He doesn't love you like I do, Honey.." She then proceeded to kiss you, trailing her lips down to your breasts.

You two were so lost in eachother you didn't even noticed it, An invisible golden net dropped down the ceiling, You screamed as Clarisse fought against the net, But it was so strong and thin, No matter how hard Clarisse looked, She couldn't even see it. You and Clarisse both thrashed and fought against the metal, Until a shadow emerged from the doorway.

Keith.

He looked quite broken, seeing the scene before him, his face said it all, He had not want to believe it, and it hurt him...To the core.

For a second, Clarisse almost felt sorry for the wrench...Almost. But then his face hardened and he burst into a fury. He cursed obscenities to you, And then called out into everyone to see the shameful scene. And in their hoards, they came running. Clarisse turned to you and shielded you as best she can from their prying eyes. Courses of laughter ran out around us and The Hephaestus Boy looked satisfied.

He called out mocking words, and threatening to keep you and Clarisse naked and trapped for all eternity as a punishment.

But Clarisse held her head high and spoke;

"If i had a choice, There is no place i'd rather be...Trapped with the love of my life? What a punishment indeed..." Clarisse mocked him, Then all of the Demigods started laughing...But this time, at the little fool, Keith. And he shrunk in on himself, he turned red in embarrassment.

No one knew that you and keith had broken up, That's why you and clarisse were the hot gossip.

The Hephaestus boy stormed out, as the fit of laughter became louder, dragging with him the net that had trapped you two, But Clarisse couldn't care less, She demanded the door to be shut and be alone with you, so the campers did left.

As Selene crossed the skies with her silver chariot, You laid with Clarisse and dozed of, Still bare from the activities you guys had done.

And when Helios crossed the skies in the morning, Clarisse wrapped her arms around you and inhaled your scent, Knowing that you're hers...Loudly and Proudly.

A/N: HOLYSHI THIS TOOK SO LONG. I ADDED A LITTLE TWIST SINCE I WANNA MAKE THE 'The history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself' ACCURATE! WHATCHA THINK ABOUT IT? SORRY THIS TOOK LONG! <33 I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS!

-🍵

#xy/n #clarisse la rue x reader #clarrise pjo #clarisse la rue #percy jackon and the olympians #dior goodjohn #pjo tv show #waterloo

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tojisbbg · 4 months

Text

𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨

❝secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i thought; maybe i just wanna be yours.❞

♡ gojo satoru ♡

a/n: writing another gojo smut since the last one i wrote of him flopped. 😞💔

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

(also, a lot of you have been dming me and it's honestly so sweet, shoot me a message anytime :D)

content: gojo satoru x fem!reader, reader is extremely horny lol (hypersexual??), sassy gojo (he's a little dick sometimes), fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, not edited.

...

"well, you look like shit." gojo snorted, entering your dorm room as you woke up from your short-lived night's sleep. you let out a yawn, doing that weird whole body shaking thing before sitting up; rubbing your eyes to see your best friend more clearly.

he looked equally worse as you, dark eye bags, chapped lips, arms crossed over his chest along with a scowl painted on his lips.

"thanks, you don't look any less shitty yourself." you snickered, leaning against the headboard as you watched him roll his eyes before making his way towards your bed; sitting on the edge.

"i wonder why." the white haired male grumbled, a small glare thrown at your direction.

"hmm? i don't know what you're talking about." you innocently batted your eyes, making him narrow his eyes.

"i would've been done studying by two in the morning if you would've stopped blowing up my phone every two seconds about how roughly fucking me would help you memorize the formulas better." gojo complained, making you bite back a laugh.

"well, you could've just go on dnd or block me." you shrugged, indirectly calling him a dumbass.

"you threatened to kill yourself if i did that."

"oh."

"anyways, what time did you stop studying and hit the lights?" gojo changed the topic, examining your tired face.

"i don't know, i think five-thirty?" you tried to think hard, but, recently all these nights where you pulled all-nighters have been a blur.

"not bad, i slept around that time too." he sighed, rubbing his temples while wincing in pain.

"hurts?" you asked, hearing him hum in response.

"yeah, i took painkillers before getting here but it's not really helping." gojo groaned before looking at you through half-lidded eyes, his words making you pout.

"well, i can't really help you with that. but, i can offer you some mind-blowing head instead." a smirk tugged on your lips as you threw a wink at him, making gojo look at you with an unamused look.

"this fucking early in the morning too? god, it's barely seven in the morning." he stared at you in disbelief, making you chuckle.

"jeez, i'm kidding. no need to act like you got a stick up your ass all the time." you stretched, while gojo scrolled on his phone through social media along with his emails.

"you gonna do final revisions on the way to campus?" he asked you with curious eyes, making you let out a hysteric laugh.

"fuck no, i stayed up till five something reading and writing notes until my fingers went numb. i couldn't even fuck myself to sleep because of the pain." you casually answered, making gojo's nose scrunch up in distaste.

"fucking hell, y/n, you're filthy." gojo commented, making you laugh before you crawled towards him, sitting on his lap as you pinched his cheeks.

"but you love me." you cooed, squishing his cheeks into a pout as he let you. gojo's arms instinctively were wrapped around your waist to make sure that you don't fall and crack your head open.

"unfortunately." he sighed.

this is how it has always been for you and gojo, his inevitable torture starting from when you both were in diapers. both of your families were extremely close, your mother being high school besties with his mom.

of course, both women decided to continue this legacy by making sure that their children grew up together. so, you've been stuck to gojo by the hip.

gojo's family was extremely wealthy, like filthy rich. his father owned one of the biggest company in all of japan. your parents, however, owned a humble sushi place in kyoto.

nonetheless, gojo never looked down on you or treated you like you were some ant that could be stepped on. he was like your protective shadow, scolding you when you acted out, being there to comfort you when you were down or struggling, and he dealt with all your stupid jokes.

as you both grew older, puberty hit like a truck.

no, not even a truck; like a fucking tsunami.

your body matured and your hormones went absolutely wild. you don't know what the hell happened, but you craved for sexual pleasure so often. after discovering the magic of masturbation, you did the act almost religiously.

your jokes were pure filth, full of suggestive language. it was like the only thing that circled your mind was dick, dick, dick, sex, sex, cum, cum.

no, quite literally.

you were horny almost 24/7 for some unknown reason.

oh, and you were still a virgin. yeah, shocking.

your situation wasn't helped after realizing how fucking hot your best friend became either. gojo began to hit the gym, basically turning into a gym rat in high school as you accompanied him after school every day before heading home together. he became beefy and so fucking tall, nearly 6'4ft.

no wonder why girls in high school chased him like he was the jackpot. well, they still do now that you both attended college.

though he was a pretty face, gojo was smart as hell. well, the both of you are; it was kinda like a mutual academic rivalry you both had. of course, it was all for shits and giggles.

he was a math nerd, meanwhile, you hated the subject with a burning passion. you liked english better, as your reading and writing skills were beyond talented. so, you and gojo made a fair deal, he'd help you with your math homework while you'd help him with english.

sometimes you both would do each others homework when it was time to cram study for other subjects. the subject you both have a common liking towards was science.

people sometimes mistakenly thought that you and the snow haired male were a couple. the truth is, you both were just super close best friends. gojo got used to your dirty jokes and remarks, no longer affected by them, as it was like common language for him now.

"can you eat the damn banana like a normal person for once?"

"why? you wish i was deepthroating the banana in your pants instead?"

"y/n, which outfit looks better? the first or second one?"

"neither, stay naked and let me smash, pleaseee."

"oh my god!! you look so handsome satoru, i'm literally gonna cum on your face."

"look at you wearing that tight black compression shirt, you slut!"

"put on a shirt and cover those tits before i suck them, toru!"

"y/n, i'm at that one plushie store downtown and there's like a bunch of sanrio shit. imma get that one hello kitty headband you were looking last night for you."

"oh my god?? hello, what the fuck, i'm literally gonna let you say hello to my kitty, toru. ugh, i love you so much."

"do you need help on doing your sit-ups? i could hold your legs down."

"yeah, but don't come too close or else my pussy is gonna start pulsating your name in morse code."

"i don't know what to get you for christmas, y/n."

"how about you lathered up in coconut oil and wrapped in a cute pink coqutte bow under my tree?"

"you horny fuck, oh my god."

"you idiot! i don't care if they taste bad, i told you to suck on those cough drops to help you soothe your throat."

"but i'd rather suck your balls, satoru."

"for the love of god, seek therapy."

"sex therapy with you?"

"you gonna stay on me forever or get ready for class before we're late for our last final exam?" gojo playfully pinched your side, making you yelp as you rubbed the site.

"jerk, i was thinking about how this is the perfect position for me to cockwarm you." you said, earning a flick to the forehead.

"you got ten minutes or i'm leaving you." gojo ignored your whines, standing up with you still clung onto him like a koala.

"satoruuu, i don't wanna go! they're gonna brutally torture me for the next hour based on organic chemistry." you dramatically cried into the crook of his neck.

"the school is gonna kick us out if we don't take this exam, y/n. it's worth like sixty-five percent of our final semester grade. besides, we both studied hard for this. you'll be okay." he rubbed your back comfortingly, making you pull away with a huff.

"you have enough money to buy the entire university, satoru."

"my dad is gonna burn me alive, y/n."

"okay, fine! i have a better solution. how about we start an onlyfans? you know, we both could occasionally do solos or you know... fuck each other too! like-"

"no."

"satoru!! hear me out." you tried to reason, but gojo knew it was all bluffing and you just wanted to stall. so, he forced you down from his hold, making you stand on your feet as you looked at him with a glare.

"ten minutes, you big baby." gojo said before leaving your room.

---

it felt like you just survived a war, coming back home with nothing but trauma written all over your face.

what the fuck was that exam?

all those hours of studying this entire week, sleepless nights, missing meals... all gone to waste?

you punched in your lock combination on the small keypad outside your dorm room, hearing the small beep as the door unlocked. with a twist of the knob, you opened the door and entered. you saw the familiar pair of shoes by your door, not paying much mind to it as you kicked your own shoes off to the side.

you saw gojo leisurely laying on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

"when did you get here? the exam didn't start until eight." you asked, your voice barely audible from how exhausted you were, physically and mentally.

"like fifteen minutes ago. my proctor started the exam like twenty minutes early by accident, since the clock in that room was broken." he explained, making you nod your head as you walked to the couch.

you tapped his long legs, ushering him to bend them so that you had space to sit. a moment of silence graced the atmosphere, neither of you uttering a single word.

"it was shit." you both blurted out at the same time, looking at each other with equal shock.

"you too?!"

"fuck yeah. i mean like, what kind of formulas were those?!"

"i know right?? it was like another language, completely different from the review packets."

"man, i should've just given up and fucked myself to sleep. at least, i'd get some good sleep."

"bro, you and fucking yourself. one night without having your fingers inside your pussy won't kill you." gojo sat up, shaking his head in disbelief that your concern was something so ridiculous.

"uh, yeah it will since you're clearly depriving me of your dick." you retorted, making him roll his eyes.

"whatever. what are you gonna do now?" he asked, leaning towards the small table to grab his water bottle, opening it to take a sip.

"have rough kinky sex with you." the words casually flew out of your mouth, catching the snowy haired male off guard as he choked on his water.

"i'm being serious!" he said in between his coughs, watching your laugh at his reaction.

"i'm gonna sleep, what else, idiot? i need my brain to rest and recover from all that trauma. besides, we do this every time when it's finals season, satoru. you got amnesia or something?" you joked, patting his back to help him stop coughing.

"sorry, my brain is malfunctioning. my dorm or yours?" gojo asked after clearing his throat.

"since you're already here, let's sleep in mine. i'm gonna go change into something more comfortable. if you wanna change out of those, there's a spare pair of your sweats and t-shirt in my closet." you informed him, making him nod as you both got up and headed towards your bedroom. you grabbed your clothes and headed into the bathroom to freshen up and change into them, giving up your bedroom to have gojo change.

after finishing up, you walked back into your room, seeing gojo already inside your bed; looking like he was half dead. you snorted, walking over to the other side before placing yourself on the empty spot.

"don't hog the blanket, or else i'll kill you."

"no promises."

with that being said, you scooted closer to gojo, in need of feeling his body's warmth against you. it wasn't anything new, this was sort of a tradition you guys did after finals week was over. you both slept for hours together.

you threw your legs over his waist, tugging onto gojo's shirt as he laid down while facing the ceiling.

"hold me, 'toru." you mumbled, your movements slightly bringing him back to life. gojo groaned in annoyance, turning his body to now face you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"better?" he spoke into your hair, which was slightly tickling his nose. you nodded your head, your cheek pressed against his chest as you inhaled his scent.

gojo always smelled sweet with a mixture of expensive cologne.

a few minutes passed, and you could hear his heartbeat slowing down, indicating that he was falling asleep.

"hey, you awake?" you poked his cheek, making his eyebrows furrow.

"no." gojo murmured, eyes still closed.

"you know, satoru, if you jerk off before going to sleep then your sleep is gonna be like ten times better. science says it helps release stress and improves blood flow. if you want, i can jerk-"

"go to sleep, y/n." gojo sternly cut you off along with your wonderful visual of how you'd jerk him off, giving your thigh a light smack before resting his hand there. you let out a small whine, playfully biting his cheek.

you saw gojo's eyes scrunch, making you sigh.

"sorry." you mumbled to yourself, as gojo most likely didn't hear you since it seemed like he was already asleep. you pressed a small kiss on the spot you bit before snuggling into his neck. your arms and legs tightly wrapped around his body, fingers finding home between his snowy locks.

"it's okay." was the last thing you heard before you were no longer able to resist sleep.

---

gojo stirred in his sleep, mumbling incoherent words as he felt the constant buzzing noise vibrating on the bed. he painfully opened one eye, half-lidded, as he realized you were still tightly tucked way in his arms. you snored softly against his chest, lips pouted, making him tempted to kiss you.

the snow hair male tried to find the source of the buzzing sound, grabbing a hold of his phone only to see that his phone was dead. gojo's eyebrows furrowed in confusion 'cause then what the hell is it?

his eyes landed on your phone which was shoved under your back and gojo momentarily saw your screen flicker open. bingo! it was your phone that was annoyingly going off.

gojo grabbed your phone, deciding to silence it for you, even though you were passed out like you're dead; so you most likely didn't hear it anyways. but, he was a light sleeper and your stupid phone was keeping him awake.

as the screen flickered open again, gojo saw that you had well over a thousand notifications. his eyes widened, you were never the type to be social. of course, you weren't a loner or something of that sort; you had friends whom were also gojo's friends.

but, the both of you kept your friend groups small and restricted so avoid any unnecessary drama.

"tumblr?" gojo mumbled under his breath, knowing that it wasn't his place to snoop around. but, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. the notifications were all indicating that people hearted a post you made along with commenting hearts and all that shit.

a weird feeling bubbled inside him, something in between the lines of possessiveness and anger.

so, he decided to investigate, knowing that it was wrong but he couldn't help himself. it was convenient that his face id was added onto your phone, just like how yours was added onto his. after unlocking your phone, he found the tumblr app.

at first, gojo thought it was a dating website as it sounded very familiar to tinder. but, he would soon be proven wrong as he saw a feed full of different blogs and writing.

gojo's curiosity ran wild, silently exploring the new waters he was introduced to. he clicked on your notifications list which was flooded with heart and comments.

not any comments, but horrendously down bad thirsty comments.

sanemiswh0re: ahhh author!! i'm literally running laps, this was so good!

localbbg: this was pure filth and i loved every word of it!

cherrytones: hello?? i need a toru in my life! a tear just ran down my thigh.

yourhotgf: bro wtf, white haired men 🔛🔝 of me!! toru with that big dick energy?? lord, i need him in me so bad.

gojo's eyes widened at the comments while he scrolled. toru? it's a silly little nickname you've been calling him ever since you were kids. since when did you write stories? and... they were about him too?

he clicked on one of the comments which led him to said story, making him smirk as the naughty photo used in the border was enough to give him an idea. gojo settled in bed comfortable, with you still wrapped around him, without a fucking clue of what that menace just found.

"jesus.." gojo breathed out in shock, reading the pure filth you wrote of him and the 'y/n' used in the story, but he assumed that she was based off of you. it was no use denying it, the male character toru resembled too much of his personality and the female character y/n resembled you a lot too.

he wasn't even halfway done yet, but it seemed like you wrote an entire hour long porn script. your writing was so descriptive, describing the sex scenes in such a pornographic yet sensual way. gojo would be lying if he said it didn't make his heart flutter and cock throb.

were your fantasies of him always this dirty?

did you always want to be manhandled by him? praised and teased? being slutted out? a mix of a gentle dom that was a little witty?

god, where did you hide all of this?

of course, you were never ashamed of your vulgar comments and jokes that you threw at him. but, gojo always brushed them off because he grew accustomed to it. however, this was completely new to him.

your smutty writing of him and you made him feel hot and bothered. he knew you were dirty, but not this dirty.

you began to wiggle in his arms, stirring awake as you made a few groaning sounds.

"hmm, time... toru." you groggily asked, eyes still shut as you waited for a response.

"it's 8:23." gojo replied, still not bothered to place your phone back to where he found it. instead, he continued to surf through your dashboard to which he found more of these smut of him.

"why are you awake so soon?" you yawned, cracking an eye open only to wince from the sudden light exposure.

"had a leg cramp." he lied, making you grimace.

"ouch, you should've waken me up then." you commented, your hand find his as you played with his really long and thick fingers. it was a habit to toy around with the rings that wrapped around them.

"you looked too peaceful to disturb. besides, i found something to read in order to kill time." gojo boldly said, making you hum in amusement.

"oh? and since when have you been a bookworm? please, do enlighten me." you teased, making him chuckle. a smirk etched onto his lips, trying to collect his words before attempting to send you into cardiac arrest.

"it's actually very interesting, i have to say. i never thought i'd be into erotic romance." he started out, and the very unexpected words leaving his mouth made your heart pound inside your chest.

he was reading that shit besides you and you had no clue?

"jeez, and you call me a horny dog?" you scoffed.

"well, maybe it's torusluvr who's the real horny dog." he dropped the bomb, making your heart stop it's usual cardiac rhythm as you heard your tumblr account's username. you shot awake from bed, eyes meeting his playful ones as the color drained from you face.

"what? how did you-" you were a stammering and confusing mess, searching for your phone until you looked at his hand.

"looking for this?" gojo waved your phone, the screen on full blast lighting and filled with words of nothing but sex.

"give me my phone back, satoru." you panicked, trying to grab your phone from his grasp. but, gojo's body structure was stronger, bulkier and taller than yours; so you struggled.

however, gojo took your struggle as a form of amusement. he noticed how your face was covered in a blush from being caught red-handed, movements so shaky and alarmed.

it was kind of cute.

"nuh uh." gojo suddenly tossed your phone to the side before grabbing both of your hands. a yelp escaped from your lips as you were pinned to the bed in mere seconds, gojo's body hovering above yours as he slotted himself between your legs.

you gulped nervously, your cheeks growing warmer as it suddenly felt too embarrassing to look at gojo in the eyes. you were a mere ant compared to his body, his stature standing at six feet four inches, and his body was beefy as hell yet so soft to the touch.

"does this turn you on, y/n? hm? being manhandled by someone who's twice your size." the white haired male teased, his husky voice due to his previous slumber sent heat waves to your cunt.

"satoru-"

your words were cut short as gojo leaned closer to you, grinding his hard on against your throbbing cunt, making you gasp.

"satoru? what happened to toru?" he whispered, shoving his face into the crook of your neck, taking a minute to inhale the scent of your perfume which has been permanently engraved into his senses and brain.

"stop joking around, we're friends... best friends." you tried to reason, watching his eyes darken.

"oh? and do all best friends write porn worthy shit about each other?" gojo snickered, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. your throat went dry, words getting stuck.

"i guess we can't be best friends anymore 'cause i wanna recreate all that shit that i read— with you." a smirk tugged on his lips and before you could even process what the hell was about to go down, you let out a small whimper after feeling him bite down on your collarbone before peppering soft kisses on the abused skin afterwards.

"toru... please." you desperately begged, needing some kind of friction between you and him to relieve the ache between your thighs.

"i bet if i touch that cute little pussy of yours, my fingers are gonna come out glossy wet, yeah? should we test it out, y/n?" gojo continued to pester you with his teasing remarks, making you blush further at them as you were to embarrassed to have him find out about the wet patch that was created on your panties by now.

you shyly nodded but this wasn't enough for gojo to take for an answer. you felt a small pinch on the plush flesh of your thigh, making you wince.

"use your words, y/n. you didn't shy out when you were right all that stuff about me and you." he scoffed, making you whine in embarrassment.

"touch me, toru... i need to feel your fingers." your voice was meek, throat getting dry as you desperately bucked your hips upwards. gojo cocked an eyebrow, watching your body squirm underneath him in amusement.

"so needy." gojo laughed, rubbing your thighs before giving it a small squeeze. your body grew warm and your face flushed red from his touch. you've fantasized about this moment for so long and now it was finally happening.

gojo's fingers hooked on the waistband of your shorts about to pull them down until your hand came down to stop his movement. he was a little confused and felt a little guilty because he didn't know if he was moving too fast for you or made you uncomfortable.

"you okay?" gojo asked with genuine concern washed on his face. you bit down on your lips, averting your gaze from his.

"i'm not wearing any lace and my panties aren't even matching with my bra." you said in a little panicked voice. gojo was a handsome jerk and this most definitely wasn't his first time sleeping with someone.

you saw his hookups, they were always the prettiest of the prettiest girls. they looked like polished gems, wearing fancy feminine clothes in contrast with your hobo looking outfits, hair and nails were always done... they were like runway models.

you couldn't help but feel a little insecure. you knew that satoru was different, but that small part of you still felt like perhaps this was still some kind of cruel joke the universe was playing on you.

the books you read always gave the female lead a perfect body free of blemishes, wearing expensive and sexy matching undergarments and so much more.

while here you are with unmatched undergarments, a completely inexperienced virgin who only knew how to shamelessly masturbate to find relief while fantasizing about her best friend.

"hm? so what? they're coming off anyways, princess." gojo reasurred you with a soft smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, indulging in the sweet taste of his lips. he used the strawberry carmex lipbalm religiously.

the kiss was slightly messy, as you were still a little inexperienced in this area as well. you can't remember the last time you last made out with someone, so your teeth clashed with his here and there. but, gojo never complained, he drank in your mistakes and guided you with the fluid movement of his lips and tongue.

the white haired male gave your bottom lip a gentle bite, one of his hands grabbing your jaw to keep your head in place while his other hand pulled down your shorts. gojo threw the annoying article of clothing on the floor, pulling away as a string of saliva connected the both of you.

he looked down and if it was possible to get any harder than how hard he was right now, gojo thought he might've exploded already. you laid under him like a pretty gem, face flushed and your lips swollen as you panted a little from the breathless kiss. a small grin tugged on his lips, the hand grabbing onto your jaw now coming to stroke your cheek.

"just relax for me, princess. let me show you just how much better reality is than your little stories." gojo whispered, leaving open mouthed kisses on your jaw that were leading south until he was peppering kisses on your neck.

you decided to take a leap and pull your t-shirt off, catching gojo off-guard by your sudden eagerness. a genuine smile was forming on his lips at how adorable you looked. your cotton panties had a strawberry pattern on it with a tiny pink bow on the front and your bra was a solid blue color; both of which satoru is well familiar with as the two of you did your laundry together.

"stop staring." you embarrassingly pouted, making him let a raspy chuckle escape his lips.

"can't help it when my best friend is this cute." he teased, pinching your cheek which made you yelp.

"shut up and go back to what you were doing." you nagged, making him cock an eyebrow.

"oh? eager are we?" gojo hummed, skillful fingers whisking your bra off in a matter of seconds, your tits spilling out of the cups that held them. you averted your gaze from him after seeing how gojo's eyes widened, feeling your face grow hotter by the second.

"look at me, y/n."

"no."

"look at me."

"eat my ass."

"i will."

"satoru!" you gasped, finally looking at him as his response caught your attention. however, gojo didn't pay too much mind to it as brought a hand down to fondle your tits, watching how you bit your lips at the sudden squeeze.

"don't look away from me, baby. you're such a pretty girl, so let me admire you for a bit, yeah?" with that being said, gojo latched his lips onto on of your nipples, making you whimper.

"shit.." you moaned, feeling the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive swollen bud. he peered up to meet your eyes, looking so fucking pretty even with a mouthful of your tits. his stupidly charming blue eyes staring into your half-lidded eyes. you brought to stroke his cheek as he continued to suckle on your nipple.

"pretty boy." you cooed, feeling his hand kneed the plush flesh of your thighs before giving it a little spank, making you squeal. being the tease he is, he gave your nipple a gentle bite before releasing the bud with a 'pop' sound.

"you wore my favorite panties." gojo complimented, making you scoff.

"stop saying that to make me feel better about my mix-matched undergarments." you rolled your eyes.

"you could think that my words are lies but it still won't change the fact that i jerked off with those same panties." he shamelessly shrugged after revealing such a dirty secret, making your mouth gape open.

"huh?!" you were at a loss for words, but, for some reason it made your pussy throb at the thought of your hot best friend masturbating to the thought of you.

even if he used your panties.

"mhm... now, let's put them to some use again." gojo pulled down his shorts along with his boxers, completely disposing them to the floor to meet with the rest of your clothes.

your eyes shamelessly came in contact with his cock and you couldn't help but harshly gulp. gojo was fucking hung, not lacking in any area. his dick had to be at least a good seven or eight inches long, a single vein running on the side of the shaft, with a pretty blush pink tip that was angrily leaking with precum.

"feel a little overwhelmed, princess?" gojo sensed your shock, and you truthfully nodded.

"y-yeah... i never-"

"wait, you're still a virgin, y/n?" he genuinely asked and you thinned your lips before nodding. gojo gasped, slapping a hand on his mouth.

"what the fuck? and you wrote all of that with no experience??" gojo was truly amazed as you shyed away from his eyes.

"it's okay if you don't wanna, you know." your throat went dry, a little disappointed that it would end this way.

"fuck you? of course i wanna fuck you, princess. but, are you sure you're okay with me taking your virginity? we could stop and forget about it if you want to, no pressure." he asked in a soft tone, rubbing your hips in a comforting way.

"yeah, i want you to take it, toru. i trust you." you gave him a girlish smile, making his heart jump.

"okay then. i'm gonna prep you real good to make sure it doesn't hurt as much." gojo pressed a tender kiss on your lips. he stroked his cock a few times as a husky groan left his lips, making him sound so sexy.

gojo hooked two fingers to the side of your panties and lifted them up before sliding his cock inside the fabric. you moaned at the feeling of his warm and hard cock sliding past your folds, his wet tip nudging and coating your clit with his precum.

"fuck. you're so wet, baby." gojo breathed out, leaning down to suck on your tits as he continued to thurst his hips back and forth between your folds. your juices lubricated his cock and the stimulation provided to your clit with every nudge of his tip made your eyes roll back.

"oh my god... just like that, toru. please!" you begged, your hand finding purchase to his snowy locks as you pushed his face further to your tits, as he licked and sucked your nipples. gojo's hips never faltered, continuing to glide his thick dick between your slit, feeling your clit throb.

you felt your orgasm building up, making your breath hitch as you whimpered. after a few more thrusts, you gushed on top of his cock as gojo cummed on your pussy, messily spreading both of your juices on your cunt.

gojo pulled his cock out of your panties, seeing how there's a wet patch on the front of your panties. he used his index finger to outline and rub your clit, making you shake from the overstimulation.

"w-wait." you tried to catch your breath but gojo wasn't gonna let you rest until you cummed on his tongue and fingers.

"nope, gotta stretch you out now, princess." he pinched your clit, making your thighs shut close from the sudden impact.

"you little shit." you threw him a playful glare, to which he only stuck his tongue out and use his strong hands to pry your legs open. this time, gojo wasn't going to be so patient. he pulled your panties down and threw them somewhere, his cerulean eyes fixated on your cunt.

"fucking hell." gojo swore under his breath and you couldn't help but think negatively.

"what's wrong?" you asked a little worried.

"i'm trying to hard to not cum again from just looking at this pretty pussy of yours." he groaned, using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, watching how it glistened with both your and his cum from the previous pantie fucking session.

you supported yourself on your elbow as your other free hand pulled his head forward, crashing your lips onto his. you kissed him with need, sucking on his bottom lip before giving it a bite. gojo began to slide his middle finger between your wet folds, making sure to rub your clit at a fast pace.

you moaned into his mouth, which gojo happily drank as he continued to give the neglected bud some attention. his finger stopped at your hole, experimentally shoving it in a little bit. you winced at the sudden intrusion as gojo's fingers were longer and thicker than yours.

"shh.. it's okay." gojo assured, pecking your lips as he entered his finger. your walls clamped down on his finger and gojo couldn't help but groan at how fucking tight you were.

"shit, gonna have to stretch you out quite a bit if this sweet pussy of yours is gonna take my cock. don't wanna rip you apart, baby." gojo chuckled, kissing your cheek before sliding his body down until his face was directly above your wet aching cunt.

gojo licked a fat stripe up your cunt, eyes rolling back at the taste of your pussy. you tasted so fucking good and he knew he'd get addicted. he slurped up all your juices, his tongue circling your clit before flicking it. you gripped onto his hair, pulling his mouth closer to your needy pussy as you basically humped his face.

gojo decided to add in another finger and a guttural moan escaped your throat, feeling him scissoring in the two thick digits in and out of your hole. your legs began to shake at the amount of pleasure you were getting from being tongue and finger fucked at the same time.

"fuck! augh~ i-i'm gonna c-cum!" you moaned as you felt the knot on your lower stomach tighten, your hole enclosing around his fingers as you creamed on gojo's fingers.

"that's it, there you go, princess." gojo praised, drinking up all your cum and licking you clean. your breathing was irregular as you were trying to calm down your erratic heartbeat.

gojo looked up at you with a slutty expression, his lips glossy with his own spit and your cum along with his chin dripping with your arousal.

"think you ready for me, baby?" he teased, placing a playful kiss on your clit before slotting himself between your legs. gojo's hard cock rest on your inner thigh, his eyes giving you a glimmer full of tease and play.

"i think that if you don't put your dick inside me within the next minute i'll kill myself." you dramatically responded, clearly not in the right state of mind due to pleasure fogging up your mind. gojo laughed at your words, leaning in to kiss you.

you could taste yourself on your tongue, but that did not bother you as much as having your throbbing hole empty.

"toruuu~ pleaseee." you whined, bucking your hip up to his in an attempt to get some friction to relieve the ache between your legs.

"my pretty girl needs something, hm?" he continued his banter, making you pout. you trailed your hand down and grabbed his cock, giving it a few pumps and watched your best friend crumble from your touch.

"need your cock inside me, toru." you said in a sultry voice, using the tip of dick to rub up and down your slit, parting your folds. gojo decided to stop being mean and help you, grabbing the base of his thick cock and rubbing it on your dripping wet cunt.

his tip now rested on top of your hole, his eyes looking up at you for further movement. you nodded your head, hands going to the side to grab the sheets.

"it's gonna really hurt bad for a minute but i promise it'll get better. i'll go slow and gentle, 'kay?" gojo offered you a soft smile as reassurance, to which you nodded, fully trusting him to take care of you.

"can you come closer." you asked in a meek voice, and gojo nodded as he leaned forwards so that you could wrap your arm around his neck.

gojo pushed in the fat bulbous tip of his cock, the stretch of something fatter and bigger than his and your fingers immediately burned.

you winced in pain, making him apologize and you told him that it was okay. gojo stayed like that for a little before thrusting the tip of his dick in and out of you to help you get a little used to the intrusion. it took every fiber of his body to have enough self-control to not shove the entire length of his cock inside your cunt and use it like his personal cocksleeve.

"look at me, y/n." he breathed out, making you open your eyes as your eyes were a little glossy. gojo never fucked a virgin before, and you were his best friend, so he wanted to be extra careful to not hurt you.

"i'm sorry." gojo quickly blurted out and you were confused for a quick minute, until you let out a pained cry as he shoved his entire cock inside your pussy inch by inch. he quickly latched his lips onto yours, swallowing your cries as his thumb came down to play with your clit.

your nails dug into his flesh, tears streaming down your face as the stretch of his cock was so painful.

"hurts so much, toru." you sniffled, mumbling your words on his lips.

"it would've hurt more if i went inch by inch slowly. you'll be okay, baby, trust me." with that being said, gojo slid his cock fully out, your pussy missing the feeling of being full. you mewled at the loss of contact, until he slammed his hips back into you, shoving his cock in one go.

within each slow thrust that he gave you, the pain faded away and you were soon drowning in pleasure. your cunt clamped down on his cock, the delicious feeling of the vein on his cock grazing against your wet walls made your eyes roll back.

"such a sweet pussy, fuck you're so tight." he grunted, grabbing your hips in place as his pace was unforgiving. his cock curved and kissed every inch inside your cunt, making you grip the sheets for dear life.

"satoru! i- fuck. wait, it's too much!" you cried out, your vision becoming blurry and you couldn't tell if it was from the tears that were forming due to overstimulation or from exhaustion.

maybe both.

"you could take it, princess. this pussy was fucking made for my cock." gojo moaned, grabbing the back of your knees before pushing them back to your head; placing you in a mating press.

this new angle gave him a better view of your tits bouncing with every thrust along with every ripple of your ass that came in contact with his heavy balls. your free hand came down to play with your clit as the other hand grabbed the back of his head to give him a sloppy kiss.

"feels so good, toru." you slurred, as his cock continued to kiss your cervix, bullying it's way in and out of your aching hole.

"gonna fuck you so dumb, till you become mine." he grinned against your skin, biting down as he placed a slap on your pussy, making you let out a cry.

"please, please, please! i-i'm gonna cum!" you stuttered out, feeling his balls hit against your ass while he continued to fuck your hole. your cunt began to convulse around his cock.

with another thrust, another rub on your clit and a gentle kiss on the side of your neck, you let out the most desperate and needy moan known to mankind as you began to cum around his cock.

gojo began to chase his own high, satisfied with the ring of white cream forming at the base of his cock, fucking you into over stimulation.

"f-fuck, gonna cum. god, i-i love you, y/n." he choked on his words, fingers clawing onto your hips as he gave you one final thrust before release thick wads of hot cum inside your hole.

gojo fell on top of your body with his arms supporting him a little to make sure he doesn't crush you with his weight, cock still lodged inside your wet cunt that was now filled with both his and your cum.

"i... fuck, i love you too, satoru." you whispered, swallowing thickly from how dry your throat was. you stroked his snowy white hair, the both of you breathing heavily as gojo continued to lazily fuck his cum into you.

"you know, i didn't expect you to be a virgin from how horny you are." gojo giggled, making you hum. he rested his head on your chest, playfully taking your nipple in his mouth as he sucked on it.

"well, i guess i got the real life experience now." you gave him a cheeky smile, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"better than your little books?" his voice was a little muffled due to having a mouthful of your boobs in his mouth.

"mhm, i should write about it." you thought out loud, catching his attention.

"if you have writers block anytime else, just let me know and i'll help you. that's the least i could do for my dear girlfriend." gojo smirked, making you blush at the last word.

"oh? and since when have you declared that you're my boyfriend?" you joked, making him bite your nipple.

"since forever. you're mine now anyways." he pouted like a child, making you laugh.

"fine, so are you finally gonna let me stack donuts on top of it?" you said, making him look at you with a look of disbelief.

"maybe."

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

Text

Bound - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Miguel O’Hara was never known to be a man wanting. He was beyond content with the power surging through him upon his multiversal throne. That is until he lays his hungry eyes upon you. Now, he will do whatever it takes just for the taste of you… dark!miguel x reader fic. very steamy as always <3

Notes: I couldn’t stop myself from this hades and persephone-esque fic so I hope you enjoy!! SW&P is far lighter if you desire that <3

next chap

one

Morning is a sweet greeting to you, warm and incandescent to shine it’s rays upon soft skin. As it always is. Though you find it to be dreary on days like this, as it is the same as the day prior, and the day prior to that day. As if it is not sparkling gold but shadowing gray.

All the same repetitive waltz for you.

Yet to your unknowing mind, much would change within the quick hour. Change not in the way of little things but rather in the way that would make your toes curl and your eager hands grab your tresses so you might not trip upon them on your dash toward the tallest hills.

You would have run had you known what was to come.

Yet you didn’t; and so? Your morning was quite a bore.

Similar to a zombie are your sunken cheeks and coffee kissed eyes decorated with awful bags. Your toothbrush is made of oak as is your boar-bristled comb. You tend to your prettying before slipping away from the hustle and bustle of a lively home. Four sisters and two brothers you sport, and an overbearing woman you dare to call your mother.

You made routine of this. Sneaking away with the latest print picked up from the small shop next to the apothecary in town. Out the oak wood door and past the burnt toast and meat to cuddle yourself comfortably against your favored weeping willow by the bend.

Your only company is the ducklings these days, though you don’t mind them much. They are mostly quiet beyond the occasional quack.

Serenity became you as you lay there in the remnants of springtime’s shadow, willfully sprouted in peonies and lilac blossoms.

Your print is a work of Austen, an old and worn thing but one you’d found comfort in recently. It would be your fourth time revisiting.

Would… however.

“Oh heavens sakes! You must enjoy making your mother walk upon tousled soil, girl! Have you got half a mind!? I don’t presume so otherwise you’d avoid any possibility of me losing a leg!”

A whine like that of a carnaged cat rings out from behind the bend. In the grassy plains your mother struggles her way toward you. You stand to your feet in swift motion, but your wandering eye finds curiosity in an unfamiliar bloom. Its colors an odd pairing of red and blue unfurled toward the sun.

What an odd thing, you think.

The huffing and puffing snaps your attention center, and you nearly grumble in complaint as you hurry toward your mother.

“Mama I was just—”

“Oh save it. I see you slip out each morning, I know full well your disdain for the company of your own family… but I didn’t come here to admonish you, sweet girl. Quite the opposite in fact. I am here to ask a favor of you. It seems the cold air has made our chickens most unwilling to provide us with eggs. Won’t you go in town and gather some?”

Like the rainfall’s mist caught by breath of wind, your hopes and plans of reading in the bend till dawn have dissipated. Pursing your lips, you nod— not wanting to administer a guaranteed headache at wake of your protest.

In to town you’ll venture.

✧*̥˚ … *̥˚✧

The cobblestone is cracked underneath your boot, as it is dampened by springtime’s departured mist. You like the clicking sound, though it is most lonesome at this ungodly hour.

The house cannot be run well with lack of your aid. Father left long ago and mother is just a dreadful housewife. The doctor blames her dissonance on the ailments within her mind’s confines though— she swears herself always to be whole and well.

Regardless, for the sake of your sisters— you help. Besides this, you owe it to her.

Your basket is made of weaved wicker and adorned with crimson cloth, at the end of the cobble is where life shines proud. A more lively gathering of townsfolk in search of early morning eggs to enjoy with their breakfast.

A single carriage, outdated as the things are, surges forward in an unstable command by a young man. He cannot be past twenty three, and his face is speckled with pale freckles. His hair is a burnt orange rasp.

The stallions are dark as midnight, sweat being huffed like chimney smoke from their nostrils. Dear god, the way he commands them is certain to ensure an accident.

You tuck the thought away in to the back of your mind to be focused upon your task. You’ll need no more than a dozen or perhaps three what with the vacuum cleaner your eldest brother refers to as his mouth.

Babblebrooke, it is where you’ve lived most your orphaned life. Surely some places have technology of picture books and magazines you skim through when you are awarded the rare chance but— you find yourself content with a place so simple.

You cannot imagine a life of loudness, no quiet space to tuck away and read. It’s a frightening thought.

The stand is nearby, only a few more passing steps and you’ll reach it. Your eyes are locked on the fresh berries, but you know full well you won’t have enough for them.

A bark startles you out of your trance, one excited and pointed. You jump at the sound and turn your head to find a cocker spaniel hound circling round and round to chase its own tail. You giggle at the sight, and its chestnut ears raise in alarm at the vibration.

Oh, it’s noticed you.

The little thing hobbles over excitedly, and you cannot help but bend on your knee to brush back its silken locks.

Beyond a canvas collar of pale pink lays a heart, engraved in molten silver the title: “Lyla.”

So she belongs to someone. Such a kind thing, they are to be a lucky companion indeed.

You smooth back the hair from her excited eyes before lifting to your feet again and continuing forward. She begins to follow you, but a movement in the alleyway shadows is a matter she finds far more pressing for her attention.

“Lyla…” you test in a whisper as you make your way behind a man hunched and gray— awaiting his eggs for breakfast.

Time seems agonizing and the line moves awfully slow, you peek behind the elder man to find annoyance laced in the eyes of the townsfolk. Blaire has taken a liking to the farm boy— it seems she’s busying herself with conversing nonsense with his mother rather than picking her fresh fruits for tart pastries.

You sigh, checking the time on your cracked, golden watch with impatience brewing at the soles of your boots. You sway on them, shifting your weight forward and back. No use just staring ahead.

Though it is quite loud, it doesn’t stop you from reaching in to your tote for “Jane Eyre.”

You find your favorite part, their first midnight meeting in the hallway. How romantic it is, you only wish that to be a possibility for you one day. You forbid yourself from joining the season of course but somewhere tucked away inside— you wonder how marvelous it would be for a broody and handsome thing to appear upon your doorstep with a bouquet the size of France.

You grin at the thought. Though it is swiftly interrupted by the quick patter of familiar paws.

“Woah! Easy!”

Your head snaps up at the gasps of those around you, and you are most horrified to see that the horses have reached the steep bend mere steps away. The ginger fool, they halt in warning and he kicks at them— slapping them with a russet pole. They comply, and the carriage loses control.

It creaks, hurling forward and disconnecting from its rusted shell. Tumbling at godspeed down the cobble and straight for little Lyla who lays mindlessly and happily on her back now.

Panic surges, and your eyes find worry in everyone’s features and yet no motive to act alongside it. Such cowardly men, allowing the poor thing to succumb to the bite of freak nature and cruel fate.

You won’t allow it. Though you feel frozen, the sharp and desperate shout of “Lyla!” from a phantom voice is enough to snap you back into the most horrible moment present.

“Christ!” You breathe, tossing Jane Eyre to the sapphire sky before surging forward. The carriage stalls on a pebble for a quick moment and it’s enough time for you to beat it by a mere step. You scoop the silly thing into your arms and as the wheel just grazes your skin— it is you now that is saved from immediate death.

A warm hand tugs at your wrist and you’re certain the brick wall has grown awfully large palms and fingers; for what you slam up against is hard and unpleasant.

You grunt, Lyla yelping in surprise where she is tucked up tightly against your chest.

Whistles and claps overtake the coward crowd and you sway upon your own boots as the wind itself makes you unsteady with its light graze. Firm palms steel you, grasping your shoulders tight to keep you together and well.

Your eyes venture on an upward path to find two crimson pupils imploring your features as if they are etched in stone and stored away in a beloved museum somewhere in Rome.

Brows pinched and quite bushy, eyes cold but curious, his reddened orbs search your face for what feels like a millennium. Fascinated.

Awed.

You blink, and the cry of the sweet creature in your arms breaks the trance you were entangled in. Lyla leaps from your arms and onto the cobble path— and you only huff and reach a weak arm toward her before the exhaustion of a skipped meal and your adrenaline fueled actions bring you to sit on the cobble ground.

He kneels beside you, the stranger. Yet you cannot find yourself mustering enough energy to truly examine his face. Just his eyes, rare things they are.

“She’ll be alright.” He whispers, hands still pleasantly upon your shoulders as if he fears you’ll topple over and shatter once he parts.

When you do lift your gaze however, stricken curious by the sickly silken sound of his voice, he’s gone.

“Thank y-”

The word croaks in your throat, and you can only wonder how it was possible… how quickly the phantom left you upon the cobble. The farm boy rushes over soon, much to the demise of poor Blaire. She stares on at the carriage and ginger man as if she wishes it was her nearly trampled.

He hands you fresh water and berries, and you wave his concern away and the crowd’s curiosity with a weak hand.

Your mind is only glued upon one thing.

The phantom.

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @queenb27sblog-blog @dprmooni @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things @heartfeltlonging @coralreefses @knightowl019 @cybersry

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happilychee · 4 months

Text

how fairy tail takes care of you when you're sick

cw: descriptions of being sick

I have covid and I wanted to cheer myself up :(

♡ it's a normal day at the fairy tail guild. the job board is crowded with papers, drinks and food are flowing, someone's starting a fight (natsu), and the air is filled with lively chatter. there's only one thing off: you're not there.

♡ gray is the first one to notice. he's at a table with lucy, cana, and erza. he and erza just got back from a stealth mission that paid them well, and he's looking forward to relaxing. except... "where's [name]?" he asks. lucy furrows her brow. "they weren't in yesterday... should we check on them?" gray nods, and the four of them leave the guild hall.

♡ you feel like someone threw you through a wall. your nose is clogged, feeling stuffy and congested. your throat itches and every time you cough it feels like you're hacking away at your lungs. there's a building pressure in your head, a pulsing pain that signals the onset of a migraine. you think that you'd be able to handle the usual symptoms of a cold, except for the burning aches in your lower back. your coughs shake your entire body as your muscles scream in protest, and you curse whatever virus decided to infect you.

♡ you manage to get yourself out of bed and into your kitchen, hoping to make yourself some rice or hot tea with honey. instead, you start seeing black spots swim across your vision, and the world starts tilting like you're swaying on the prow of a ship. you lower yourself onto the cool tile floor, relishing in the soothing temperature against your burning skin. you're so out of it that you don't register the knocks at your door turning into insistent bangs.

♡ finding you half passed out on your kitchen floor was not on gray's to-do list for the day. his worried hands hover over your shivering form, unsure what to check first. erza settles the matter by scooping you into her arms, Requiping out of her armor as she carries you to the couch.

♡ gray takes charge of the kitchen, your favorite recipes coming to kind. he settles on a warm and hearty soup, sure to soothe your hunger and your aches. he starts chopping vegetables, turns on the stove, and soon enough, the kitchen is filled with a delicious and appetizing aroma.

♡ erza is the one who takes your temperature, gets you back to enough coherency to explain your symptoms, and then finds the right medicine for you. she props your back up with pillows, tucks a blanket around you, and feeds you the disgusting cold medicine that porlyusica and wendy swear by.

♡ cana would love to help you and take care of you, except lucy looks pale as a sheet and a little green. she helps the blonde sit at the kitchen table, patting her arm soothingly. lucy mumbles that her mom passed from an illness, and seeing you so sick makes bad memories come back. cana soothes her, reassuring her that you'll be fine. lucy only relents when your eyes crack open, and you direct a gooey smile at her.

♡ you fade in and out of consciousness, snippets of sound and touch registering in your brain. someone is petting your hair while singing, their soft hands braiding and unbraiding your locks. a hand trails over your back, warm and calloused fingers digging into the knots in your shoulders. you purr under the sensation, leaning into the comforting touch. a soft arm, usually covered in armor, wraps around you to sit you up as a chilly hand brings a spoonful of something warm and delicious to your chapped lips. cold bangles brush against your skin as someone lifts you up, carrying you to the land of dreams.

♡ when you regain consciousness, your friends don't let you lift a single finger. gray cooks every meal for you with cana as his sous chef, erza is on top of your medication, natsu distracts you by telling silly stories, and wendy casts pain-relieving spells to help you recover faster. lucy refuses to leave your side until you're fully healed, so she's always fluffing your pillows, bringing you hot tea with honey, and feeding you snacks. the only time she calms down is when you ask her to read for you. her calming voice lulls you in and out of sleep as you listen to her read about a fairy tale princess's adventure.

♡ levy drops off books at your place so you can occupy your mind. most are either your favorites or her recommendations, but gajeel manages to sneak in a spicy book or two, which has you laughing so hard you start coughing.

♡ mira cooks up a storm in the guild hall, partially out of a desire to help you and partially out of worry. there's enough soup to feed fairy tail ten times over, and she insists that half of it be sent to you. lisanna ans juvia also stop by with some homemade baked goods. juvia gives you a steaming hot loaf of banana bread, some cookies and muffins, and a bunch of pastry buns. "it's just a cold, you didn't have to do all this." you try to reason, but no one listens to you when you look nauseous and your shoulders are shaking.

♡ there's someone at your place every day while you're recovering. it could be natsu and happy raiding your pantry and making a mess, it could be lucy and gray cleaning up their mess while erza yells at them, it could be wendy with balms and salves and a story to tell you, it could be the strauss siblings with more food and cheer than you'd ever seen before, it could be juvia with gajeel, lily, and a basket of your favorite buns. point being, fairy tail doesn't take their eyes off you for a moment while you're under the weather.

♡ when you feel well enough to come to the guild hall, everyone starts cheering. laxus fires up the grill, mira pours drinks in a flurry, and cana drags you into some drinking game. the entire guild hall roars to life, partying the night away, because what better reason is there to celebrate than the return of a dear friend?

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bunnys-kisses · 1 year

Text

baby trap - (vol. 1) toji fushiguro

rating: e (18+) reader: f summary: you were toji’s girlfriend? baby girl? sugar baby? slut? you were a lot of things to toji fushiguro. he paid for your college, fucked you in his car but also had a grasp on you like no other man. tags: ddlg, dark themes, smut, multiple orgasms, baby trapping a/n: remember, the ask box is open!

you were toji’s girlfriend? baby girl? sugar baby? slut? you were a lot of things to toji fushiguro. he paid for your college, fucked you in his car but also had a grasp on you like no other man.

he broke your phone once because he saw you had tinder downloaded, even though you were both never an official item. he paid, you fucked. but after that moment, he made it very clear that you were not getting with anyone else.

but the sex and a brand new phone patched up any fear you had towards him. he kissed you when he overstimulated you, kissing back the tears that were sliding down you cheeks. he bit at your nipples until they bruised and became puffy with abuse.

like lightning in a cyclone, you were two forces that only found a place with one another. it wasn’t normal, you were never going to have the perfect nuclear family life that your cousins had. you were going to be the girl of a trained killer. and he loved that you accepted that fate. as his strong arms wrapped around you like a snake, tightening when you struggled. there was no escaping him.

but he made it up with small bits of love, rough sex and money. he’ll happily slip tens of thousands of yen between your pretty glossed lips if it meant you’ll be a good girl. beg, shake, wag your tail, that kind of stuff.

you were both at your local love hotel about half an hour west of your dorm. toji had been a bit more clingy this evening as he picked you up. it was unusual for him. usually he had his big hand on your bare thigh as he drove, but this time he was kissing you with chapped lips against your temple and jaw as he stopped at red lights.

“what’s gotten into you?” you had asked as you chuckled at his affection. he went in for a kiss on the lips and you melted.

“aw nothing, angel. just let daddy show you some love.”

“i thought love wasn’t your thing.” you remarked.

“well, two months apart changes things.” he smirked against your warmed skin. he swore he could feel the pinpricks in the condom in his pocket. he just hoped you wouldn’t notice.

toji’s had enough of this childish shit. apparently breaking your old phone wasn’t enough to keep you loyal. he found texts between you and another guy on your phone when you were in the shower one time. he knew you were a bit of an airhead, you don’t listen.

but maybe a little bit of change will fix that. it’ll take a few months, but girls your age usually had children by now. right? the light changed and he continued to drive until you got to the hotel. now at the hotel, you went into the washroom to wipe off your make up and toji lounged on the bed.

he was nude by the time you exited the bathroom. you got naked as well, casual between the two of you. he was rather use to your nude form. as you moved around the room with not a single stitch on, toji’s mind wandered to changes your body will do in the coming months. it made his cock twitch. pervert.

“come. sit.’ he said as he sat up, “i want you honey. lie back, let daddy take care of you.” his gaze followed you as you sat on the bed and spread your legs. he pushed you down fully on your back and he got between your legs. legs over his shoulders as he spread your pussy lips with his fingers and started to lick like a hungry man.

you let out a small gasp as you felt him slip two fingers inside of you, ravishing your pussy like he heard the word from god to do it. his hard cock pressed against the mattress

“toji!” you gasped as your back arched but then he used his hand to hold you down while he continued to pleasure you with his tongue and other hand.

“yea keep it easy, baby girl. daddy’s got you.” he purred before he assaulted your clit with his tongue and his canine teeth which made your legs kick out but he kept you against the bed, “what did i say?” his voice lower and deadlier.

“sorry, sir.” you whimpered as you held onto his head, feeling his soft strands of dark hair under your fingertips.

“good girl, just let daddy take care of you. i’ll always take care of you.” he growled between your legs. his assault continued, unrelenting as he devoured your clit and fingered you until your moans got caught in your throat.

you clung onto the mattress as you felt the washes of orgasm over you. your cheeks felt heated, your pussy felt slick. even sweat dampened your hairline from the heat in the room.

toji knew what he was doing. you weren’t the first baby girl he had, but you’d the last. the first to move on to baby mama title. don’t worry, he’ll take good care of his family. just don’t expect your first child to be your last, okay?

he couldn’t imagine a life without you. even without the money, he just wanted to have you at all times. his pace was brutal, he could feel your wetness on his tongue as he continued. he knew his little slutty baby girl loved when it was rough, that was the only way you could get off. it toji tried to be like those limp-dick boys from your university, you’d never cum.

he exhaled deeply against your clit, his own breathing became heavy with lust as he rubbed his hard cock against the bedsheets. soon your thighs were pressed around his head as you felt closer to orgasm. he enjoyed your loud moans and continued work on you.

with another loud moan you came on his tongue. he felt you tense up around him as you finished on his mouth. your wetness glistened his lips and chin, highlighting his scar as he pulled his head away and looked up at you.

“enjoy that angel?” he asked.

you nodded softly, “yes daddy.” but had little time to say much else before he was rolling you onto your stomach with your hips lifted. you heard him rustle with the condom while made you wetter.

little did you know.

“how do you feel, angel?” he asked as he rubbed your ass after he got the hole filled condom on. he was glad you couldn’t see the glee on his face in that moment.

“i feel good, daddy.”

“good.”

next chapter of your lives was about to begin. don’t worry your little head about it, daddy will take care of you. he dragged his thumb down your clit and watched your shiver before he grabbed his cock and pushed into you. he watched your back arch in pleasure.

oh did toji love you, or at least his version of love. something that had been twisted by time. he wanted every inch of you, he’d do whatever to keep you. even if it meant you having his brats. don’t worry you’ll look cute nursing one, chasing another and pregnant with a third. toji will take care of everything because daddy takes care of everything.

he started to fuck into you, his hands on your hips but soon his hand was in your hair to get better leverage to go deeper and deeper into you, his balls hitting your ass as he fucked himself into you. the condom providing little protection for you.

he knew there was a good chance you weren’t going to get pregnant, but he’ll just have to keep trying and trying until it worked. he could hear your pants and moans, the pathetic attempts to call him daddy. you were his good girl, the innocent little angel he spoiled and cursed to damnation. y

you moved with his thrusts, pushed forward then pulled back. in a repeated, rapid cycle as he fucked you. he fucked with intensity.

“that’s it. that’s my girl.” he watched your ass jiggle a he moved against you, his cock was as deep as it could go. he slapped your cheeks and his cock twitched in you as you moaned from the slap.

he picked up speed, his breathing became rapid the muscles of his abdomen clenched as he felt closer to orgasm. but you beat him to it as he watched you practically scream into the bed as orgasm washed over you. your pussy clenched around his cock as he practically had you bouncing on it.

“daddy! daddy!” you gasped, almost pleading as he bullied his cock into you. you were the perfect cock sleeve for him. he was definitely going to get you pregnant. you were going to be his for the rest of your days. he wasn’t letting you go, he wasn’t letting go of a pussy like that.

filling out with pregnancy would only be the cherry on top of it all. he leaned over you and bit at your ear as he kept your head into the covers. his hips moving quickly and coordinated to hit your sweet spot often. he wanted to make sure you never forgot who owned your sweet sex.

you were practically a rag doll against him as he whispered hot nothings into your ear as his hips pushed against your soft ass. his cock reached areas that you never thought were possible.

“that’s it angel. that’s it. you are mine, got that. you are nothing without me, you are my good girl. my baby girl, my stupid whore that i have to show the way of the world to. you’re mine, got it? i want you to say it.”

you moaned loudly, “i’m yours daddy, i’m only yours. i don’t want any other man! please, please have me forever!!!” before your eyes rolled back as a second orgasm followed.

you tightened around him once more and he bit back a hard groan as he continued to fuck the living daylights out of you. his breathing was ragged, her felt sweat drip down his hot back in this warm room. two figures fucking on a rented bed, one with the intention of impregnating the other.

he held you by the back of your neck and lifted his leg up to get a better angle to pivot inside of you. your screams were muffled by the covers. he could feel your shivers as you laid under him. he knew your brain was blanking out right now, but that was how he wanted his little wife.

“that’s it baby girl.” he purred, “remember, daddy owns you. lock and key until the day we die.”

“yes, daddy.” you said breathlessly. the corners of his mouth curled upwards as he could tell that your brain was totally blank. there wasn’t a single thought in your head right now that had nothing to do with daddy’s hard cock pounding away inside of you.

“that’s what i want to hear. good girl.” he said in a low tone as his thrusts remained brutal against you. he knew your body would be bruised with your insides painted white. all by his hand.

his tongue glided across his top lip, touching the scar as he continued to move against you. the bed moved a bit more against the wall, making a good acquaintance with the white wall.

your eyes rolled back a little bit as he hit a nerve deep inside of you. he gripped onto you, and you moaned into the bed. it wasn’t long before both you and him came together. his voice low and rugged, while yours hit a higher pitch. but muffled by the soft pillows he kept you pinned to.

soon he pulled out of you, and saw a small string of cum that connected his flushed tip with your entrance. he smirked to himself and wiped away the string. pleased with himself. he threw out the holey condom into the near by waste bin. you trusted him, you won’t check if there were any holes.

you rolled onto your stomach and made a small whining noise for his attention. he went to tend to your needs, scooping you up into his arms and kissing the bridge of your noise.

“with me, angel?” he said softly. the warmth in his chest, pride of finally laying the groundwork to keep you by his side forever. baby trapping felt like a bad word, he was just putting you on the right path. and he couldn’t wait till it came to light.

soon you were whispering in his ear, asking for him to go again. toji couldn’t say no to his baby girl. after all he had a whole pack of condoms with holes in them to use before the lube dried out.

“of course, anything for you.” anything for you, mama.

#dilf toji #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji imagine #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #yandere jjba #jjk #jujutsu toji #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen smut

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Text

don't leave me locked in your heart (chap 2) - ghost x soap x reader

summary: Soap sees you dancing at a bar and decides you'd make the perfect anniversary present for Ghost, so he tempts you into going home with him one night and simply… doesn't let you leave in the morning.

word count: 8.2k

cw: NONCON!!!! dark!!! light petplay (ghost calls soap mutt/dog/puppy), dom!ghost, switch!soap, sub!reader, restraints, gags, ghoap are a little deranged

chapter 1/2 here, read on ao3, see the pinterest board

He could’ve fucking warned you.

“Simon” is terrifying. His eyes are locked on yours over Johnny’s head, and they’re terrifying.

He’s nearly a full head taller than Johnny, who was already the biggest man you’d ever gone home with. And on top of that, Simon looks like he’s twice as muscular. His arms bulge in his sleeves and you can literally trace his abs. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and you can trace his abs.

You’ll die if this man tries to fuck you. There’s simply no way his dick isn’t monstrous, and if it’s even proportional to the rest of him you’ll surely split in half. And considering the fucking bulge in his sweatpants? It’s a hell of a lot more than just proportional.

The skeleton mask and eye paint certainly don’t make him look any less intimidating. They clash with the short bit of dirty blonde hair he’s got, but it hardly matters when half of the face he’s revealing is literally painted black.

After a moment of eye contact you couldn’t break if you tried, he lets go of Johnny, taking the few steps to the bed in long strides and standing at the edge without brushing it. You’re frozen in fear, some ancient animal instinct in your head begging you to lay still and submissive in the face of a predator.

His head tilts a bit to the side, gaze sliding over your body in a way that would offend you, were you in any other position with any other man. He’s silent as one hand reaches out to trace the trembling muscles in your thigh and you can’t hold the small noise of fear back with your mouth held open. His hand doesn’t stop, just continues tracing up and down, up and down.

Johnny slides behind Simon, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist and leaning around to look at you. “Yknow,” he starts, nuzzling into the side of Simon’s arm. “She squirts when you fuck her right.”

“That so?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And you managed that?”

Johnny makes an offended little noise but there’s a smirk playing on his lips, and you cannot believe the nonchalance.

Johnny moves from behind Simon to kneel between your legs again. Your eyes follow him and his eager smirk as he bends his head towards your core, and you can’t help but up.

Then there’s a hand in his mohawk, yanking his head straight back so he’s staring at up the ceiling. No, not the ceiling - Simon, where he’s bent over the smaller man.

“Now, who said you could do that?” Simon rumbles, his hand continuing its slow stroke up the inside of your thigh. “Hm?” He asks again when Johnny doesn’t reply, jostling the man’s head in his grip.

“S-sorry, L.t.,” he pants, pupils blown wide and mouth dropped open just enough for him to poke his tongue out.

Simon only makes another low noise in his chest, neither approving or disapproving, and tugs Johnny back off the bed. The man follows easily and your eyebrows furrow a bit - the Johnny you were with last night was dominant through every round, but this Johnny? He’s falling to his knees at a man’s feet with just a nudge.

Simon pets his hand over Johnny’s head where he now rests, then brings his eyes back to yours. “Better. Now stay.”

Then he leans forward.

You make a high noise in your throat, irrationally trying to wiggle away as the man becomes all you can see. But he doesn’t go for any of your very available vulnerable places, instead reaching up to… untie you?

To your shock, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His fingers make quick work of pulling the rope from the slats of the headboard, but when you go to yank your hand away from him, you realize it’s still tied securely to your ankle. He lowers your limbs surprisingly gently to the bed, then frees your other bound wrist.

When he’s done he scoops you under the armpits, lifting you entirely off the bed for a moment and dropping you on your knees. You crumble as much as you can, back bending and head dropped low so you don’t have to look at him, don’t have to think about what you know he’s about to do to you.

“Head up, doll,” Simon grunts, but you can’t bring yourself to listen, watching little drops of spit drip from your mouth. You can see Johnny’s naked knees on the floor. There’s a sigh above you, then Simon’s hand reaching down and grasping firmly under your chin, forcing your head up and holding your eyes again.

His thumb strokes softly over your bottom lips while he considers you. You glare up at him, but he’s unfazed. He leans a little closer, then sighs again.

“Pouting won’t get either of us to let you go,” he says simply. A statement of fact - not cruel, or mocking, just… the truth. Your eyes squeeze shut as understanding finally, truly, sinks in and you feel the warm track of a tear down your cheek. Simon doesn’t give you time to dwell. “Was Johnny good to you last night?”

“Of courseI -!”

“Not asking you, puppy,” Simon growls, tone going from soft-ish to stern like whiplash, though his thumb remains soft where it wipes the tear off your cheek. “I’m asking your little stray. So?” His hand nudges your chin up, a little jerk, and you open your eyes on instinct.

Johnny was good to you last night. You came five times, there isn’t much else you could’ve expected from a one night stand. Except for the fact that he tied you up and gagged you, he would’ve been the perfect candidate for a FWB situation.

Still, you can’t really get past the kidnapping thing. So you glare down at the kneeling man as best you can with your chin held high as it is and shake your head with the little room Simon gives.

“What?” Johnny barks, raising up on his knees and shooting you a glare. “That’s not true, L.t., I was fuckin’ great to her!”

Simon hums a little, thumb still stroking. “I don’t know, Johnny. She looks right pissed with you.”

Johnny huffs, but settles back on his ankles when Simon’s free hand moves to the nape of his neck. “She’s just pissy she can’t leave. Brat.”

“You’re the only one being a brat right now, MacTavish.”

There’s a little grumble of disagreement from the floor.

“Alright,” Simon starts, standing to his full height and taking both of his hands back. “You can’t fuck her today.”

Your eyes go wide at such an explicit command, accompanied by a sharp “What the fuck?!” from Johnny.

“Don’t start fuckin’ barkin’ at me, Johnny. Shoulda been better if you wanted to fuck her again.”

“But I was good to her, she’s just pitchin’ a fit!”

Simon looks down at you, tense and glaring, about as far from “pitchin’ a fit” as one could probably be in your situation and snorts. "Bit of a reach, Johnny. And it don't matter anyway, cause you'll do as you're told."

Another unhappy noise, followed by a petulant, “Yes, sir.”

It’s good enough for Simon, who finally moves to get on the bed. He settles against the headboard, then reaches and lifts you beneath your armpits again. You can’t help the helpless noise of fear in your throat as you’re left just floating for a moment, before Simon settles you over his thighs.

He spreads his legs, spreading yours along with them. You’re forced into an arch as your wrists move with your ankles, and you anxiously shift back and forth on your knees.

“Settle, doll,” Simon rumbles, hands stroking rope to hip up your legs. “Johnny - on the bed, behind her.”

Johnny quickly obeys, and while he does Simon tugs his sweatpants down. He only pulls them far enough to hook beneath his balls, and you can’t help the panicked noises as his cock flops up against his stomach, fully erect.

You were right. He’s gonna tear you apart. Your heart beats faster at just the thought.

Simon huffs at your wide eyed reaction, shifting his legs up. The movement forces you down to sit on his dick, and his knees pull up behind your body, shimmying his sweats lower on his legs. “Panicky little thing, aren’t ya?”

You keen lowly in response, eyes still glued to the massive length this man is about to force into your body, unable to still your shaking hands. Johnny makes a low noise behind you, and you feel his hands begin to trace up and down your sides. “‘S ok, lovie,” he murmurs, head ducked into your throat. “I told you you’d like Simon, yeah? He’ll be good to you.”

It shouldn’t bring you any comfort to hear those words from the man who put you in this position in the first place, but the warm sets of hands combined with Johnny’s newly familiar weight at your back has your muscles relaxing against your will. Your eyes squeeze shut at the realization that your brain and your body are completely split when it comes to these men.

“There ya go,” Johnny rumbles, and you hate the little smirk you can feel against your skin as his teeth start to gnaw at your neck.

“Johnny, back down,” Simon says suddenly, leaning forward and pushing the other man back with a palm on his forehead. He goes easily, albeit with a little whine. “Good boy.”

Then, with no warning, Simon stuffs two fingers into your cunt.

You jolt forward with a little shriek, losing your balance since your hands are still attached to your ankles. Simon’s free hand steadies you by the shoulder and you can’t keep the moan of pleasure trapped in your chest as he crooks his fingers.

You lose track of time as he stretches you, thrusting slowly but with an almost punishing strength before eventually adding a third finger. You whine at the stretch, arching your tits high in the air as your hips try to move away from the intrusion.

“Down, girl,” Simon rumbles, hand reaching out to press solidly on the center of your chest. “Gonna fuck those wrists up ‘f you keep jerkin’ away like that.”

You can’t keep yourself from glaring at him for that, and his painted eyes crinkle above the skull mask.

Bastard.

You can feel Johnny getting antsy behind you, the mattress shifting back and forth and his breathing becoming heavier and heavier. But Simon ignores him, so you do too.

Eventually, he deems you stretched enough for him. His fingers slip out of you and his hand raises to your face, soaked fingers pushing past the ring gag and to rest heavily on your tongue. You realize why when he reaches down to grip his cock, angling the tip to your hole. Your noise of surprise is muffled by the digits.

You can’t help but clench up tight, staring wide eyed at Simon. He glances up from where he had been staring at your core, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that shocks you. “Gotta relax if this’ll work, doll.”

He must see the lack of appeal to that in your face, because a moment later he adds, “It’s happening either way, but relaxing will make it better for you. I’ll fuck you either way.”

His fingers block the mournful little noise you make. Then, when you relax as much as you can and he pushes into you, they block the sharp yelp. “There you go, atta girl,” he hums.

“Johnny, guide her down,” Simon commands, moving his hand from his dick to your nipple, plucking and twisting lazily as he fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth at the same lazy pace. Johnny’s hands are immediately on your hips, stilling the drop you hadn’t been able to slow before you can fully impale yourself on Simon.

He lowers you slowly, but without pause, and hooks his chin over your shoulder to stare down at where you sink on Simon’s cock. “Doin’ so good, lass,” he murmurs in your ear. The three of you moan in sync when your hips meet Simon’s.

You feel like he’s splitting you down the middle, like you’re being cleaved in half. His size, the position, and being held down so no matter how much you squirm there’s no escape from the intrusion, it all makes you drip like a faucet. As much as you hate your body’s betrayal, you can’t help but be thankful for the natural lubrication to ease the way. You can’t imagine the stretch had you been anything less than soaked.

They let you sit there for a second, Johnny’s hands squeezed tight on your hips and his own hard cock pressed against your back, Simon panting beneath you with eyes half lidded as he watches his hands work on you. You can’t help the way your torso squirms at Simon’s merciless pinches.

The moment of stillness passes, and Simon’s hands move to replace Johnny’s.

“Johnny,” Simon rumbles, lifting and dropping you just the smallest bit, ignoring your moan.

“Yeah, L.t.?” the smaller replies, hips beginning to hump against your back as he buries his face in your hair.

“Want your mouth on my balls. Get on your back.”

Johnny’s obedience is instantaneous. He drops to his back and you can feel his breath against your ass as he gets settled.

“Hands on my knees,” Simon commands. “This isn’t about you right now. No touching. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get to work.”

Simon obeys his own order as much as Johnny does, setting his feet more comfortably and lifting you high off his dick. You whine at the anticipation, clenching tightly on just the tip as you hear Johnny’s mouth get to work.

Simon drops you on his dick, thrusting up at the same time and forcing a grunt from you. His pace begins in earnest, hips slapping against you ass as he fucks you like you’re nothing more than a fleshlight he’d use to masturbate.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, moans and whimpers slipping from your lips without your notice as the pleasure continues relentlessly. Occasionally Johnny’s tongue slips to your ass when Simon bottoms out in you, and every time it draws a yip from you that makes Simon fuck into you all the harder.

An eternity later he slows his pace, his own hips no longer thrusting and instead lifting and dropping you by the hips for long, slow jabs up into you. The slower pace gives Johnny a chance to move his work to you, and as the slow pace continues his tongue lingers on your back hole longer and longer on each thrust.

When Simon realizes what’s happening he lets out an angry snarl, one that nearly scares you out of the pleasure-drunk haze you’ve fallen into.

“Bad dog!” He nearly shouts, hand leaving your hip to grab Johnny by the hair and yank him up to his knees, ignoring the shocked and pained whine. “What did I say?” He grunts, hips working much faster now, pounding up into you. You hear a loud smack, and jolt at the knowledge that Simon had just slapped Johnny, and the ensuing moan that Johnny lets out. “Told you to suck my fuckin’ balls. Didn't say a damn word about eatin’ the toy’s ass out - her pleasure ain’t your concern, puppy. Get your tongue back on my balls ‘fore I lock you in the fuckin’ closet til I’m done.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny moans, breath heavy and tone almost reproachful. When he slides back down to his back his sucking noises are far lounder, and you no longer feel his tongue sneak up to you.

“Much better,” Simon growls, still not sounding satisfied. Both of his hands lock back onto your hips and he gives you a few more harsh thrusts before dropping you completely, pushing your weight down onto Johnny’s face. He holds you there for a few moments, seemingly unconcerned with the man buried in his balls’ ability to breathe.

After a bit he hums in satisfaction, one hand dragging up to your back and between your shoulder blades, giving you a solid shove into his chest. You yelp at the change in position, now much more vulnerable. His cock is still deep in your cunt, but your chest leaning against his forces your ankles and wrists high into the air, knees dug in beside Simon’s ribs. You feel off-kilter, only balanced by the thick cock deep in your cunt and your knees, which only stay in the same spot because you squeeze them tight to Simon’s ribs.

“There ya go, doll,” he rumbles, voice rumbling in his throat where your face rests. “Just lay still and let me fuck you, hm? Good girl.”

You’re not entirely sure why he’s praising you when you couldn’t have less control of the situation, but you don’t care when he starts thrusting up into you again.

It’s infuriatingly pleasurable. His tip drills into your g-spot on nearly every spot in this position, drawing whines and squeals from you, but you still can’t come without a touch on your clit. Tears well up in your eyes as you linger just at the precipice, hips humping as much as they can to try and push over that edge.

You’re stilled by a sharp smack on your ass. “I said lay still,” Simon growls, slapping your ass for another time without pausing his hips. “You’re a fuckin’ toy right now, toys don’t wiggle around like girls do.”

The filthy words draw a long moan from your throat and you hear a muffled laugh beneath your ass.

Simon doesn’t like that any more than you do. He lifts his hips high in the air before slamming what must be his sac on Johnny’s face. “What do you think you’re laughing at, mutt? You can’t do more than suck at my balls, you gonna laugh when you don’t even get to get fucked?” Johnny whines beneath the two of you. “That’s what I thought.”

Time becomes a blur as Simon fucks you. You’re just what he said, a toy. You can’t move where he holds you down, can’t do anything other than moan at the deep thrusts he gives you. You stare through tear-filled eyes at the walls, unable to do anything but focus on the pleasure.

So you’re shocked when Simon grunts from above you, hooking his hands beneath your thighs and holding tight as he flips the two of you around. The switch leaves you flat on your back, Simon’s massive frame the only thing you can see. Johnny’s head rests between your thighs, Simon essentially sitting on his head.

Simon sits up straight, weight leaned back on his heels and pulling you with him so he doesn’t have to pull out. He reaches a hand down to adjust his balls, and now you can see the way Johnny sucks at them enthusiastically, switching between both of them with fervor. “Good boy,” Simon murmurs once he’s seemingly satisfied with Johnny’s work. His attention shifts back to you and he moves his hands up to where you’re bound, grabbing both your ankles and forcing them back to rest by your head.

You let out a sharp noise at the stretch, but Simon just shushes you and continues to push. When your hands touch the bed he shifts his hold to just one hand, holding your legs together and forcing them just to the right of your head so he can stare down at your face.

You thank God you’re as flexible as you are.

Simon makes a pleased noise in his throat as he keeps you in his preferred position. He settles more comfortably on his knees and begins his fucking again, thrusts hard and deep with his free hand gripped tight on your ribs.

You moan at the pleasure, but can’t keep your brows from furrowing as you know you still won’t be able to come like this.

After only a few thrusts, Johnny sucking noises still loud in the room, Simon drops his head closer to yours and hunches further over you. “Needy girl, aren’t you?” He asks, breaths puffing through the mask and onto your face where he hovers only inches away. “Need a lot of attention to get off, huh?” You think he might be smiling a little under the mask, able to see what you think might be his mouth this close.

The hand on your hip slips down to your clit, rough fingers rubbing roughly where you’re slippery. You can’t help the long, drawn out moan at the relief, eyes rolling back in your head as he continues to nail your g-spot with every powerful thrust.

“There she is,” Simon moans from above you, head rolling back on his neck as his fingers move more insistently on your clit.

It takes you mere seconds to come, hips shifting to try and work through the wave that overtakes you. The sound that comes from you would be humiliating if you were anywhere near conscious enough to register it, but you’re so lost in the feeling that you can’t feel anything but pleasure.

Until you come down a bit, and Simon’s pace hasn’t slowed at all. His hips continue hammering into yours, and his fingers continue on your bud.

You make a high sound, wide eyes darting to Simon’s with a panic that feels purely animal in your veins. Everything is too much, you don’t know how to cope with it.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Simon grunts, oblivious to your turmoil. “Gimme another, yeah? Dontcha wanna soak Johnny’s face, huh? Drown him a little?” You whine in response, an almost injured noise as the pain starts turning to pleasure again. Simon only laughs, leaning down to rest his forehead against your temple. His hand shifts to collar your throat, the breadth of his shoulder holding your legs in place where he wants them. “Yeah, you’re gonna give him a little treat, doll. C’mon, cum again f’r me.”

And your body obeys. You nearly howl at the feeling, clenching down so hard on Simon that he grunts and jerks to a sudden stop buried deep in you. Distantly, in some part of your mind that exists in the here and now, you register the warmth spreading inside of you. But the part of your mind in control only feels the pleasure, only feels the insanity creeping into your head at the inescapable force of it.

It must be minutes later when you finally float back into your own head. Blinking eyes open, you register that you’re empty now, that your feet have been placed on the bed and your arms rest limp by your sides.

Johnny’s hair is soaked with your cum, and despite all the circumstances you can’t help but blush at the realization. His head is still between your legs, but now he licks at the length of Simon’s soft cock while the large man pets his head. It takes you a second to realize he’s cleaning him.

A moment later Simon pulls Johnny off, dragging himself up and flopping with a sigh onto the pillows next to you. His eyes stay shut for a moment before he opens them and flicks a glance to you.

“Johnny,” he says, looking down at the other man.

“Aye?” Johnny replies, looking fucked out despite his rockhard cock as he shifts and rests his head on one of your spread thighs.

“Eat my cum out of her, make sure she comes again. Don’t finger her, just use that tongue of yours.”

You make a disagreeing noise, hardly able to imagine even more pleasure at this point. Surely you must be dehydrated?

“Don’t complain, girl,” Simon rumbles from next to you, one hand grabbing your thigh and forcing it flat to the mattress as Johnny eagerly worms his way higher on the bed. “You’re gettin’ all the pleasure, poor Johnny’s sittin’ there with blue balls. Ain’tcha lucky we’re bein’ so generous?”

You can’t even force yourself to glare as Johnny dives enthusiastically into your worn cunt, can only whine at the sensitivity and jerk your free thigh shut on Johnny’s head. He only moans, hands burrowing beneath you as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can.

Simon’s free hand comes over to shove the back of Johnny’s head further into you, the force causing both of you to moan. “Attaboy, Johnny. Clean her out for me.”

You come quickly. Once Johnny’s tongued all of Simon’s come from your hole he focuses his attention onto your clit, and he hardly has to do any work for you to jerk and moan in place. Simon hums as he lightens up on Johnny’s head, but the smaller man continues to lick and suck at you until your noises shift fully from pleasure to pain.

You think - you hope - they’re done now. But then Johnny kneels up and you see his fully hard cock, and you can’t help but let out a mournful sound knowing you can’t just curl up and pretend it was all a dream.

“Simon,” Johnny moans, face flushed nearly the same shade of his cock, dragging himself close to the other man and flopping over his legs. “Lemme cum, please, please lemme cum?”

“Hmm,” Simon rumbles, hand moving to grip at the nape of Johnny’s neck and knead. “Alright. How about this, puppy - I’ll fuck you and you fuck the toy’s mouth.”

You voice your rejection as much as you can, exhausted as you are, but are nearly drowned out by Johnny’s loud moan and chanting of “yes, yes, yes, thank you so much, sir, thank you”.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been good.” He lands a sharp smack on Johnny’s flank urging him up onto his knees.

Simon moves the two of you to his pleasure. You end up half propped up against the headboard, Johnny hunched over you and staring wide-eyed down at you as his cock slowly sinks down your throat. You can’t help but grunt and wiggle as much as possible when Johnny’s knees nearly squeeze either side of your head.

“Stay still. You don’t start fucking her mouth ‘til I’m fucking you, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny pants. “Please.”

“Calm down, Johnny. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You can’t see what’s happening from your position, can only hear the click of what you assume is a bottle of lube and Johnny’s moans as Simon presumably stretches him out. You shut your eyes, breathing deeply through your nose and doing your best not to panic at the inescapable choking sensation.

When Johnny lets out a long moan, Simon grunting over him, you can only assume he’s slid inside. Just seconds later Simon’s head appears over Johnny’s shoulder, glancing down at you as he places his own grip onto the headboard for leverage. His free hand comes around Johnny and down to your head., stroking your hair in a move so tender it surprises you into opening your eyes.

“Alright, Johnny. I fuck your ass, you fuck her mouth. Cum whenever you need to, but I’m not stopping ‘til ‘m good and drained.”

And with that, the cock inside your mouth goes from being an almost - and you hate to admit - comforting weight to pounding so harshly you’re sure your voice will be gone. Your eyes go wide, staring up at where Johnny’s near delirious as his hips rut harshly into your face.

His balls slap your chin, moans slipping out of his mouth loud enough to make you feel pity for his neighbors. You gag repeatedly, so much so you worry you might actually start retching, but you don’t, and the fucking continues.

You can see both of their faces where they’re hunched over you, can see the way their eyes squeeze shut in almost the same way.

Johnny cums quickly, hips stuttering against your face before he buries his entire length down your throat, moan guttural. You can feel little jerks where Simon must still be fucking him as ropes and ropes of cum launch straight down your throat. You moan at the sensation, wiggling from the sensation beneath the two men, and Johnny whines at the overstimulation.

His head drops lower as Simon continues to fuck him, mouth hung open and eye glazed over. A moment later, a drop of spit falls onto your face. Johnny groans loudly at the sight, hips instinctively fucking into your throat even though he’s gone soft.

It’s not long before Simon finishes, letting out a shout of pleasure as he stills and the bed (and Johnny) stop rocking.

The silence is heavy in the aftermath.

Eventually Simon drops away from your eye line, but his hands appear at Johnny’s hips. There’s sounds of licking, sucking, and Johnny’s high pitched moans as he writhes at the overstimulation. A few moments later he slips out of your mouth, his hand moving to desperately tap at the wood of the headboard.

Simon pulls back, moving back where you can see him, and for a moment you’re offended that Johnny gets to tap out but you don’t. You shut your eyes, confident that it’s over now. You can rest, and when you open your eyes you’ll be safely in your apartment, and it’ll turn out that this whole experience was nothing but the best wet dream of your life.

A moment later large fingers - you don’t look to see who’s - brush over your face and to the back of your head, unbuckling the gag and pulling the ring from your mouth slowly. The hand softly cups your jaw, closing it when you don’t move to, and you can’t help but whine at the spike of soreness.

“Oh, baby,” Johnny coos, somehow sounding genuinely sad about your pain. Someone makes quick work of the ropes, and your joints scream in relief as they drop limply to the bed. Johnny, you assume, shifts you onto your side then slips both his arms around your stomach and tucks himself right up to your back. “I’m sorry. We won’t use that one next time, yeah?”

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything - Simon is still holding your mouth shut, and even as gently as he is you can’t open it enough to talk. You drag your eyes open to look at him. He’s just… he’s just staring, you can’t even begin to imagine what he must be thinking. He cocks his head a bit at you, then lets go of your jaw.

As he moves away from the bed you’re left stunned at your newfound freedom. Tentatively, voice quiet and hoarse, you whisper, “J-Johnny…”

The man only hums in response, nuzzling into the back of your head. His side of the mattress dips and you feel Johnny wiggle around a bit, dragging you with him, and then a new pair of hands rest on your stomach around his.

You’re fucking triple spooning. Triple spooning with the man who kidnapped you.

“Johnny,” you try again. “Please, please, I don’t…please let me go…”

“No,” he says immediately, quick and unabashed. A low, mournful noise rips from your battered throat and his arms tighten around you, legs curling up into you more. “It’ll be okay, lovie. Me and Simon are gonna take real good care of you. Right, L.t.?”

There’s a rumble in response.

You can’t help the tears, limbs beginning to struggle against your control. Johnny’s grip only gets more and more restrictive, his hands reaching to grab your sore wrists and hold them still, his thighs squeezing your knees between them until your legs stop kicking.

“Hush, lassie. Panicin’ll do you no good. Deep breaths for me now.”

You can’t. And you don’t feel particularly inclined to do anything he asks of you.

“Johnny,” you gasp. “Wanna go home. Please, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, not a soul, I promise, please - ”

“You’re already home,” Simon interrupts, reminding you of his presence and making you jerk in their holds. “Johnny brought you here and here you’ll stay. Now sleep.”

You make a high noise of protest, trying again to struggle away from Johnny. You’re stopped by a large sigh and the feeling of Simon’s massive hands suddenly pulling you back in Johnny, holding you there securely by lacing his hands together.

“Sleep.”

Johnny makes a sound you think is supposed to be comforting above you. “It’ll be okay, lass. You don’t need to worry about anythin’ anymore. We’ve got ya now.”

“I said sleep. The both of you.”

There’s a snort of amusement from Johnny as he pulls his face away, resting his chin on top of your head and going still.

You can only tuck your head into the pillow and try to muffle your sobs.

-----

When you wake next, the room is dark. Not dim, like it was before, but dark. You’re immediately put off by the knowledge that one of them got up at some point and you were too deeply asleep to notice.

The next thing you notice is that the bed isn’t empty. You can feel the dip in the mattress at your back, but there aren’t any arms wrapped around you. You can feel the heat of someone’s body, but no skin.

You stare into the blackness as the thought sinks into your half-asleep mind.

You could escape.

Probably.

Maybe?

You have to try, right? You need to leave. You need to go back to your apartment and call the cops on these psychos.

But that means getting out of bed. Getting out of the warm bed and venturing into the pitch black and unfamiliar room, and that’s if you don’t wake up either of the men behind you.

You have to try.

Your breath hitches in your chest as you start to move, inching slowly across smooth sheets and stilling periodically. Your hands are shaking from fear and adrenaline.

You try to move as slowly as possible as you sit up, legs swinging over the side of the bed and praying to any god that’ll listen that neither of the men will notice the shift in weight.

There’s no sound as you drop to the floor. You’ve never been more thankful for carpet.

You move as slowly as you can around the bed, eyes still unadjusted to the dark and unable to see anything that might be in your way. You take small shuffling steps, hands held out in front of you.

Then you trip. You don’t know over what, but it’s solid and decently small and it sends you tumbling to the ground, elbows and knees landing with a solid thud.

Oh god. There’s no way one of them didn’t wake up.

You’re not an idiot, you picked up on the military rank Johnny used. Simon, at least, is military, and if the stereotypes about military men are anywhere near true the noise of your fall woke him.

Sure enough, you hear someone shift on the bed.

You muffle a sob in your palm, biting down on the meat of it and curling up on the carpet. There’s a noise on the other side of the bed, and you know one of them just got out of bed. You try to stumble to crawl somewhere, anywhere, desperate to not ruin what might be your only chance at escape.

Then, without warning, you’re lifted in the air. You can’t help the yelp as you’re tucked into a pair of arms, one beneath your back and the other under your knees keeping you held close to his chest.

“Hush,” Simon says down at you, and you pinch your lips shut in an attempt to stifle your sobs, tears pouring down your face and soaking your neck. He sighs, shifting you until you’re more secure and moving.

It takes you a moment to realize he hasn’t taken you back to the bed. Instead, he’s taken you into another room and nudged the door shut. He places you down on something cold and when he flicks the light on you realize you’re in a bathroom.

You can’t stop your flinch at the bright light, then your second flinch at the sight of Simon in just a pair of boxers and the same mask he wore earlier. How is it possible that he looks bigger shirtless than he did with a sweatshirt on?

He’s covered in scars, to the point that he’s almost got more scars than he does bare skin. And he still wears the mask over the bottom half of his face and neck, though the makeup has been washed away at some point.

The two of you only stare at each other for a second - you, hunched over and scared with distrusting eyes and him, stood tall and proud with an assessing gaze.

Finally, he sighs, moving towards the counter where you sit. You curl into yourself a bit, watching wearily as he stops when your knees brush his stomach. He lifts a hand to your face, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up to his.

“What’s your name, love?”

You almost snort. This man has fucked you, watched his partner - or whatever Johnny is to him - eat you out and fuck your mouth. And he doesn’t even know your name. You whisper it after a moment of silence, followed by a cough when you register that your throat feels like sandpaper.

Simon hums a bit, repeating your name back to you as he reaches around you, filling a small plastic cup with water from the faucet. You track his movements, unsure of what he could do to the water but unwilling to risk anything at this point.

He hands the cup to you a moment later, saying, “Drink. We worked you hard. You need to rehydrate.”

You can’t help the heat that blooms in your cheeks, and your eyes dart away from his as you take quick sips from the cup. His hand moves back to your face, nudging it up. “Don’t try to hide anything from me now, love. I’ve already seen you at your most vulnerable, nothin’ left for you to hide.”

You shudder a bit at the direct way he says it, so plainly laying out what you had thought a moment before.

“I…” you try again, once you’ve finished the cup. “I want to go home. Please.”

His hand only continues to stroke at your cheek, eyes unflinching where they bore into yours. “No. Johnny brought you here for a reason, I won’t have you leavin’ ‘im now.”

You try to resist the tears, but you have less control over your emotions than you do of the man in front of you. “Please,” you try again, reaching to grip his wrist and feeling him go still at the contact. “I-I’m scared. Please, I won’t tell anyone, I swear, but - “

He cuts you off with a deep rumble, hand shifting beneath your jaw and holding it shut. “You’re not leaving. I don’t want to hear you ask again.” His tone is uncompromising and your sore eyes squeeze shut. “But you’ll be taken care of. Johnny and me, we’ll be good to you.”

Your sobs come out against your will, and Simon sighs. A moment later you hear the water running again, then feel something run across your face. You jerk back, eyes opening on instinct and see that he’s holding a damp cloth to your face.

“Hold still a second,” he murmurs, hand holding the back of your head as he wipes beneath your eyes and down your neck. His hand is so large that his thumb rests on the side of your neck while his other fingers rest on the other. You’re tense, but do what he says, eyes squeezing shut when the washcloth gets a little close for your comfort. He’s especially tender as he swipes the rag over your eyelids, and without even noticing, you relax just the tiniest bit in his grip.

It only takes a few moments, but in the silent bathroom it feels like an eternity.

He steps away after apparently deeming you cleaned up enough, moving just a few steps away and bending over the tub.

You stand on shaky legs as soon as his back is turned, stumbling toward the door as the sound of flowing water fills the room.

As your hand wraps around the doorknob, arms wrap around your waist, gently but securely dragging you and placing you back on the counter and completely ignoring your dismayed cry.

“Wobblin’ around like a fawn,” Simon scolds, placing warm hands on your thighs and holding you still when you move to shove at him instinctively. “Where would you even go, huh? Gonna wander the streets naked ‘til some good samaritan spots you?”

You flush at his condescending tone and spit back angrily, “Better than here.”

“Really?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was offended. “In this neighborhood? Johnny and I are the best you’re gonna get, girl. We’re offering to take care of you and you wanna run off to any scum waiting in the alleys?” He grunts, disgusted. “No. You’ll stay here, and you’ll learn how much better it is. You got that?”

“No!” You burst, legs kicking out at his own before he grabs your knees and shoves into the counter. “You can’t just keep me! I’m not some… some pet for you!’

He surprises you by barking out a harsh laugh, leaning so close to your face that your noses nearly brush and wrapping a hand around your throat. “That’s exactly what you are. A little pet to wait for us at the door, to keep our bed and our cocks warm. A pretty little pet for us to spoil and take care of. The quicker you get it into your thick fuckin’ skull, the easier your life’ll be.”

You bare your teeth up at him, face flushed red from anger and from the steam slowly filling the air. When you don’t respond he grunts and nods once, leaning away from you and moving to turn the flowing water off.

You don’t move from where he put you this time, and when he turns back around he rumbles, “Good girl.”

You don’t know what it says about you that your heart beats a little faster.

He steps back up to you, considers you for a second, then pulls the mask over his head and drops it on the counter.

Simon’s hot. Because of fucking course he’s hot. He’s got scars decorating his face, little nicks that look like they were just deep enough to scar but aren’t more than an inch or so in length. His nose is curved the wrong direction, two bumps in it that make you wonder just how many times it’s been broken. He’s got a broad jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips. His eyebrows hang heavy over his eyes, giving his entire face a severe look.

You deeply resent the blush that grows on your face, forcing a scowl and glancing away. He makes a little hmph sound, and when he steps closer again you can see a little smirk playing on his lips. Ass.

He grabs your elbow, giving you a soft tug to pull you off the counter and leading you to the tub as you stumble behind him. You cross your arms over your chest and hunch your back, suddenly much more aware of your nakedness.

“You get in first,” he grunts, staring at you expectantly over his shoulder. You blink blankly at him for a moment, not moving, until he gives you a little tug closer to the edge of the tub. “Well? While the water’s hot.”

You get in the tub. A moment after you settle in the middle, stiff and mostly confused, he steps in behind you. The tub is big - surprising for an apartment in this neighborhood - and leaves him enough room to put his legs on either side of you. His arms wrap around your chest next, just below your breasts, and he takes you with him as he leans back on the edge and lets out a low moan of satisfaction.

You remain stiff, unable to relax when you still can’t see this man as anything but your captor.

He sighs another moment later at your rigidness. “Relax,” he grumbles, grumpy.

You make a high noise in your throat. “Easier said than done.”

He sighs again, like your discomfort is putting him out. “Relax, or I’ll make you.”

You scowl. “You’ll make me relax? How exactly do you plan on -” You cut yourself off with a choking noise as his left hand grips one tit and the right slides down your stomach to cup your cunt, the weight of it almost a threat.

“Relax,” he says again. When you remain stiff, maybe even stiffer than you were before, he begins to work your clit and brush over your nipple. Softly, and slowly. “Can’t play rough with you right now,” he mumbles, tucking his face into your shoulder and pressing his lips to your neck. “Stop pushing me.”

“I-I’m not,” you stutter, legs shifting and spine going a bit looser as you finally start to settle back into him. He makes a little noise in his throat, one you have no idea how to translate, and softens his movements even further, just… petting your most sensitive parts.

The silence is thick, weighted with the dynamic between the two of you, but not suffocating somehow. The warm water and calming motions of his fingers forces your body into a relaxed state without your intent.

You hardly notice when the door creaks open minutes later, Johnny’s figure shadowed by the dark bedroom. He steps into the bathroom, and you watch as a smile grows on his face at the sight before him. His clear pleasure makes you stiffen a bit, but Simon hums a soothing note that - annoyingly - leaves you boneless.

“Room for another?” Johnny asks, voice rough from sleep.

“Always,” Simon replies, face still mostly hidden in your neck. You watch with half lidded eyes and Johnny, already naked, steps into the tub opposite the two of you. He scoots in close, and leans his chest against yours, giving both you and Simon his weight. You grunt a little under it, but he wraps an arm around your back and floats somewhat, so he feels more like a weighted blanket than anything. He hooks his chin over your free shoulder and gives a great, big sigh of relief. You’re glad for Simon holding you above the water, sure that you’d sink under Johnny’s weight.

You don’t and work up the nerve to speak, a bit afraid that if you provoke them too much they’ll use sex as a distraction.

Still, their equally loose-limbed bodies and the bath has lulled you into an almost dream-like state, and you can’t resist pushing a little bit more.

“There are people who will look for me,” you mumble, staring at the steam fogging up the tiles on the wall.

“Then you’ll tell them where you are,” Johnny grumbles against you, the vibrations of his chest moving to yours.

“I’ll tell them to call the police.”

“Then you won’t get access to a phone until we can trust you,” Simon, this time, says. His fingers are hardly moving now, just the occasional twitch when you shift one way or another.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper, unable to help the crack in your voice or the tinge of desperation.

Johnny rumbles soothingly, shifting his hand to stroke up and down your back. “You just need to be like this, lovie. Soft. Sweet. Something to spoil and treat nice.”

“A pet,” you whisper, unwanted tears burning at the back of your eyes that you close your eyes tight against, tired of all the crying.

“A pet,” Simon agrees behind you, limbs tightening around you. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“We’ll be so good to you,” Johnny says, voice right in your ear. “We’ll get you whatever you want. Once we know you won’t leave, we’ll take you wherever you want to go. All you have to do is let us take care of you. It’ll be good, lassie. I promise.”

You sniffle, and get a coo from both men in response.

None of you speak again. The water cools slowly, and when you shiver for the first time Simon shifts to unplug the tub and pulls all three of you out.

You’re in a daze as Johnny tugs you to stand on a bathmat in front of him, a smile playing on his lips as he cups your cheeks and gives you a soft kiss. You don’t respond, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

They dry you methodically - Johnny toweling the parts of your hair that got wet, Simon patting down the rest of you.

It’s Johnny that carries you to bed, gripping the backs of your thighs and urging you to curl your legs around his waist.

“Did a number on her back, Johnny.”

“Lost control, L.t. You felt how tight she is - fuckin’ heaven.”

“Hm. Paradise.”

“So I take it you like your gift?

“Don’t play coy, MacTavish. It doesn’t suit you.”

“On the contrary, sir - everythin’ suits me.”

“Shut up.”

You tune out their voices, aware only tangentially of a hand stroking across your hair as you’re laid in bed. Johnny keeps you at his front, mimicking the position the two of you had taken before… everything. Your legs tangled together, his arm under your head, his head on yours, your face in his throat. The only difference is that Simon slides in behind you, wrapping his big arms around both of you and tugging you tight to his body. His leg slips over yours, and their combined weight holds you deep in the mattress.

“Go to sleep, love,” one of them mutters. “Tomorrow will be better. You’ll see.”

You close your dry eyes and fall asleep with warm, sated limbs.

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