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vagabond-umlaut · 5 months

Text

ruby, one baker's dozen

Winter mornings are meant to be whiled away in the silent comfort of one's blankets— a rule the feared King of Curses knows and follows— or must one say, he knows and desperately wishes to follow, but alas!

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; tons & gallons of tooth-rotting domestic fluff; v light suggestiveness in the beginning; before everything transforms into silliness; SLEEPY LOVING & CUDDLING; you & 'kuna have two adorable menaces as your twin babies— life is definitely fun for you, handling three ryomen's on a daily basis! xD [ryomen isn't rly sukuna's surname, is it? well, here in these tags, it is :)]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

One thing which Sukuna cherishes more than most is his sleep.

And one thing which Sukuna cherishes more than sleep is when you're the one waking him.

Feathery kisses pressing themselves into the column of his neck. Sharp nails slowly dragging down the length of his arm. Your tiny figure moving to lie atop of him, freezing yet more comforting than the warmest fires this wintry dawn—

A rumble of a chuckle leaving, he opens an eye to find you staring. Your enchanting eyes heavy with sleep, and those twinkles never not there when he catches you gazing upon him. A languid smile adorns his face.

"Isn't it too early for you to be awake, wife?"

"Perhaps," you hum, lifting your lips into a drowsy tilt, "But it is never early for me to admire my husband," your hand moves from travelling down his arm to card through his hair, "At times, I cannot believe you're married to me. You're far too ethereal for anything– for anyone from this world."

You're jesting, is the first thought which crosses Sukuna's mind. But it is banished the very next instant— when he notices the sincerity engraved into your features and words, clear as day for all to see.

Ignoring the erratic rhythm thundering within his chest, your lover wraps an arm round your waist and pulls you flush to himself. Another hand moves to run through your messy hair gently. Basking in the content sigh you offer as a response, he grumbles, "Flattery never works on me, woman. Speak your mind freely, without resorting to such trifling words."

"Ah, but what if I was speaking my mind, my king?" you breathe out, giggling lightly, "I do see you as someone otherworldly, someone who is— mmph!"

Unusual yet far-from-unknown feelings clouding his vision, Sukuna captures your lips into a fiery motion with his own. Two hands alternating between caressing you through your nightgown and squeezing the supple flesh lying beneath it. A third hand slipping the thin strap of the gown past your shoulder. While the fourth one reaches towards the nightstand, for the–

"The necklace!"

Sukuna draws in a sharp breath, breaking the kiss. You make a noise, somewhere between puzzled and disgruntled— yet your husband finds himself unable to focus on it as he moves you to shift into a sitting posture— not when he cannot find the necklace he gifted you the night prior, the very one he unclasped from round your neck and kept on the table before going to bed—

A soft gasp drags his attention back to you. To your wide, terrified eyes.

"Don't tell me you cannot find the necklace, Sukuna!!" The warning in your tone is unmistakeable as you lean over him to look at the stand. "It must have been worth more than a fortune— I always ask you to mind your expenses yet you never—"

"The money isn't the problem, wife," Sukuna doesn't wait for you before snapping, "The problem's in the security— though for an intruder to escape my eye, it is nigh impossi—"

Your lover stills.

The very moment two tiny yet blinding Cursed Energy signatures make themselves known. Chortling. Toddling from the nursery adjacent into the bedroom. Of course, with your necklace of rubies being held by one of them.

A joyous shriek leaves them when they see you awake, tiny legs waddling even faster to help them reach you sooner— yet much too slow for the likes of the feared King of Curses.

In a fraction of a second, he wrenches the blankets off to place his feet on the ground. And stomping over to the two– now rooted to their spot, crimson eyes narrowed into slits at their father– he scoops each up into one arm. And glowers.

"Why did you steal this, you brats?"

The twins share an oddly telepathic-seeming look with each other— before the younger, Mizuki, answers, chubby face set in a deep scowl, "Gift, pwetty. Mama, pwetty."

"Yes, I agree," Sukuna seethes, barely restraining his temper, "But that gift was for me to give your mother. Not for you to give her. How dare you-"

"No!!" A hand smacks him, one he realises is covered in drool. If looks could kill, your husband reckons your elder twin Amaya would've long since shoved him into the realm of death by now. She hits him again. "Mizu–Aya gift Mama. Papa no gift Mama."

A scathing retort sits at the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it back when he hears your giggles. Your feet land on the floor with a soft tap! before ambling over. You press a sweet kiss to each of your daughters' foreheads, eliciting two sets of identical laughs in reply.

You coo, "Did my two darlings get me a beautiful gift, hm?"

The twins nod vigorously, Mizuki nearly shoving the ornament into your face. Annoyance ticks in Sukuna's jaw, but he stops himself from chastising them— you'll chew his ears off if he interrupts your 'mama-babies bonding moment' or whatever.

Shooting him an awfully delighted glance, you take the necklace and wearing it, grin with a brow raised. "So... how do I look, babies?"

"Pwetty!!!"

The twins waste not even an instant before screeching their opinion, right into their father's ears— yet, somehow, the latter cannot find it within himself to be mad for that. Not when they have only spoken the truth, for you indeed do look very pretty.

Absolutely nothing less than a vision.

A vision your husband has to take a deep breath to restrain from ravishing this very moment— lest it scars the children and you snap his neck in return— he clears his throat noisily to regain your attention. Subtly nodding your head at him, he watches you redirect your gaze to the toddlers— that sweet smile still lighting your face, yet a tad serious.

A change, he gathers, Amaya and Mizuki too realise, given the way they sneak a glance of each other before returning their eyes to you. Smoothing the hair on top of Amaya's head, you hum, "The gift was pretty too, my darlings— but I wonder when the two of you went to the market to buy it, y'know?"

A tense moment passes with yet another telepathic look between the twins. Voice still soft, you inquire, "Were you the ones who bought me this, babies?"

"No..." Amaya shakes her head after a second's hesitation. Mizuki adds, features crestfallen, "Papa buy gift. We no buy gift."

"Ah... I see..." Sukuna watches you say, catching the meaningful smile you direct his way. "So, Papa was the one who bought this for Mama. But Aya and Mizu didn't want her to receive the gift from him, so they decided to sneak into the room when they were sleeping, steal the gift, then give it to Mama next morning, making her think it is from them— am I right or am I wrong, babies?"

"Of course, you're right, my Queen," your lover scoffs, ready to pour more fuel into the fire— but falls silent on receiving your glare— which considerably softens when you look at the toddlers in his arms. But not by too much.

His Queen is kind yet never the kindest— one of the many things he admires about you.

"Amaya? Mizuki?" you press them one more time, only to earn few quiet sniffles in response. Soon followed by two teary voices, sing-song in a chorus, "Sowwy, Mama. Sooo sowwy."

"Nuh-nuh," you tut, folding your arms across your chest and shaking your head, "I'm not the one you wronged. You wronged your father. Say sorry to him."

Hostility— the one of the bitterest kind— flashes in the eight crimson eyes scowling at him. Tears now nothing save mere vapour, thanks to the fury at their father. Sukuna smirks, seeing Amaya give him a resentful look while her sister pouts at you pleadingly.

You beam back, as sweet as ever. "Say sorry to your Papa, sweeties. Or I'll take your toys away for a week."

"Mama!?" The older of the two shrieks, indignation and betrayal written all over her face— Mizuki, ever the more even-tempered and pragmatic of the duo, wastes no time in complying to your command. "Sowwy Papa," she says, tears refilling her eyes, "So sowwy. Mizuki not wrong Papa again," then turns to her twin, tone brooking no room for disagreement, "Aya, say sowwy Papa."

Quite a few beats pass before Amaya eventually concedes defeat and grits out a barely-heard apology— your husband's smirk growing more taunting, he pulls you closer to tuck you into his side and presses a kiss to the top of your head. All the while two of his eyes remain focused on those two bite-sized fuming competitors for his wife's love.

You peer up at him, those twinkles making a comeback in your mesmerising eyes.

"The princesses are more your children than mine, my king," you tease, "A month away from their second birthday and they've already started to resort to such devious methods for my affection! How shall I ever keep them in check, I wonder..."

The same way you reprimanded them right now, the thought crosses his mind. But he decides not to express it so. Not when he still has a revenge to exact for having his time with you interrupted in such a rude fashion.

"Fret not, my Queen," he murmurs, "We can always let the princesses stay at home when the next fair comes to the nearby villages, whilst we both visit it— I'm certain that will be a lesson good enough for— Ow, you fuckers!!!!"

Two war cries erupt in the room in response, soon followed by two flurries of attacks from his two greatest adversaries— a development, he knows, will never not lead to you yelling, the twins wailing, and him being deprived of you for who-knows-how-long— given how clingy those two gremlins grow after making you mad–

And yet. And yet.

The King of Curses finds himself not too irked with the way things have turned out to be.

Not when the three lights of his world are all in his arms, making this dark wintry dawn brighter and warmer than the midday sun— never mind the stinging scratches on his left cheek, the repeated smacks on his right cheek and the extremely exasperated groan from right beside him.

Sukuna reckons— nay, he knows— he cherishes you and your two imps the most out of everything.

▸ honourable mentions: @poe-daydreams for giving me the DILF!SUKUNA brainrot, @avatarofstars for constantly supporting and motivating me out of one of my worst writer's blocks, @thefallofruins for being the sweet & kind owner of the other half of my braincells, @javarium for hyping me up so-freaking-much all-the-freaking-time!! TYYYY & I LOVE U ALL SOOO MUCHHH 🥰🥰🥰

▸ masterlist

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #trueform!sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

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eccentricwritingbaby · 15 days

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baby finn series, bedtime stories

series list - house divided - sneaking onto stream - babysitting and date nights

dad!lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - finn is begging for a bedtime story, and lando has the perfect one to share.

masterlist

“but daddyyy,” your son whined for the fourth time, “i don’t wanna go bed!” with that he stomped his tiny foot onto the ground and crossed his chubby little arms in an attempt to be upset.

“no ‘but daddy’, finn. it’s bedtime, you need to go to sleep,” lando spoke sternly to the little boy. finn has always been well-behaved. you and lando often joked that his terrible two’s were instead the terrific two’s. he was taught and exhibiting his manners, his patience was impeccable, and when either of you asked him to do something he usually followed through. except for bedtime. bedtime was his enemy, which in turn made it yours and lando’s as well.

“noooooo daddy, pweasee,” your three year old continued on his quest to avoid sleep. lando let out a sigh and dropped a knee in order to reach finn’s height, “how about a bedtime story, finn? will that make ya feel better?” your husband holds his breath waiting for the answer, silently saying a prayer that his son will agree.

finn’s arms slowly fall from their crossed position and he sways his body a bit before a quiet ‘otay’ slips out of his mouth. his father attempts to hide his proud smile as he scoops the boy off the ground and begins carrying him to his room.

“is momma coming for story?” finn asks his dad.

“of course, bud, i’ll go get her while you get ready in bed, ok?”

“otay!” with the assurance of your presence, finn began to squirm from his fathers hold in order to rush into his room, hopping onto his bed. lando takes a look in the room, smiling to himself as he watches his son grab different stuffed animals and toys to ‘watch the show’. your husband turns down the hall, bringing his knuckles up to knock gently on your office door. he cracks the door open, leaning his head in to gaze in your direction.

“love?” hearing his voice, you turn in your chair, breaking your view from the computer in front of you and trading it for your husband's eyes. both of you take seconds to admire the other, comfortable, a little sleepy, and oh so beautiful. lando drinks in your beauty, and you do his. he gives you a smile that you gently return.

“finn’s asking that you join us for a bedtime story, fancy taking a break?”

“i would love that,” you’re quick to reply, and with that you stand, lando grabbing your hand as you make your way to finn’s room.

“momma!” your three year old enthusiastically lets out as he kneels on his bed.

“hi, baby,” you let go of lando’s hand, instead using it to run over your son's curly head of hair. letting out a quiet ‘scoot over’ to finn, you both proceed to get comfortable on his twin bed, ultimately ending with you lying back propped up on pillows with finn tucked into your side under the blankets. your husband takes a seat at the end of the bed and claps his hands together.

“right, now, are you both ready for the best bedtime story?” he raises his eyebrows and highers his pitch in order to gain some giggles from his two favorite people.

“yes, dada! story! story!” finn chants between his laughs.

“yeah, daddy! story!” you begin to add into the chanting, the boy tucked into your side erupting in more giggles. lando sends a slight wink in your direction at your use of the nickname and clears his throat.

“okay, this story begins alllll the way back before you were born,”

a gasp escapes your son in shock at the timeline and he lets out a small ‘that a long time’ which makes you and lando share a look of, damn, are we that old?

lando brushes it off and continues, “once upon a time, there was a young woman, and her name was y/n,”

another gasp from your mini, “like momma?” he asks as he looks at you.

“yes, like momma,” your husband answers as you boop your son's nose, “and she was, and is, the prettiest girl in the world. now, y/n’s parents-”

“NANA AND PAPA!” finn screeches out with excitement. you and lando share a laugh and he starts up again, “yes, nana and papa. now y/n’s parents had just moved to england as y/n began school in england, too. so, they reached out to their friends, cisca and adam-”

“NAN AND POP!” another screech and another fit of laughs is echoed through your son’s room.

“yes, baby, now let daddy finish the story,” you tell your son gently.

“otay, momma, i sowwy i jus’ excited!” both you nor your husband could correct that sweet behavior, instead choosing to keep moving on.

“alright, y/n’s parents and cisca and adam all had dinner one night, and they found out that their kids had a lot in common,” lando steals a moment to meet your eyes and you send him back a warm smile, “cisca and adam’s son, hmm let’s call him lando-”

“dada! that your name!”

“that’s right, buddy, so the group of parents agreed to have the two kids meet. lando had been off racing and y/n was at university, so they hadn’t met for months. until, finally, it was a warm july evening, and the two arrived separately at a party y/n’s parents had put on. now, lando walked into the home, and right ahead of him he sees this girl. she was wearing a long, peach-colored dress, hair down and beautiful, and had eyes that were absolutely stunning,”

“wow, mommy you pwetty,” your son speaks towards you with wide eyes.

“thank you, my love,” you reach down to place a kiss onto the top of his head while holding down the tears threatening to escape. your husband and your son were both enamored by you and it made your heart soar and squeeze in love.

“lando had the need to walk over to this beautiful woman and introduce himself, and so he did,” your husband caught your eyes again, staring at you with the same love-struck look he did five years ago.

“what she say, dada?”

“she said, hello,”

“what did you say, dada?”

“i said, hi,”

“when you get marry?”

“marriage didn’t come for a few more years, buddy. the first question i had to ask her was if she wanted to go on a date with me,”

“did you?”

“i did,”

“what she say?”

“thankfully, she said, yes,”

you noticed the time and began to wrap up the story, but not without adding in your own two-cents, “and that was the best decision she had ever made,” you placed another kiss on your son’s forehead and began to stand up from the bed. lando helps you up and tucks you into his side before you both bend down and begin to tuck your son in. lando brings his blankets up to your son's chin, kissing his forehead gently with a whispered ‘i love you’. you mimic his same actions after him while adding a ‘sleep tight, my love’ and finn's eyes are already closing.

you both make your way to the door while your hand comes up to turn off the lights. lando begins to lead you out and shut the door, but stops abruptly when he hears the quiet question of, “dada?”

your husband’s head shoots back into the room, “yea, finn?”

“do the y/n and lando in story have happy end?”

lando’s hand finds yours at your side and he intertwines them as he responds, “oh yes buddy, they live happily ever after,” with that, his door is closed with a crack open and your husband shuffles you quietly down the hall back into your office. he begins to watch you pack and close up your work assignments on the computer, leaning his frame against the door. continuing to admire his wife as you speak up, “that was a great story, lan,”

“well i had great characters to speak about,” he chuckles and moves closer to you, grabbing your arms and tossing them gently around his neck before dropping his hands to your hips.

“oh yes, fantastic, i especially liked the sound of that y/n girl,” you speak softly, staring up at your husband. he gives a light laugh and a squeeze to your bum in response before dropping his head down in order to press his lips against yours.

pulling away gently, you begin to rake your hand through lando’s curls as you speak, “we got really lucky with him,” you refer to your sleeping boy down the hall.

“we really did, y/n. you want another?”

“another?”

“yes, another baby. c’mon finn’s three now, its a good age to start trying again, he would understand, i should have a brea-”

“okay,”

“really?”

“yes, i would love to start for another baby, lan,”

“god, i love you so much, y/n” lando leans down again pulling you into a kiss. you break apart quickly, adding in your own ‘i love you so much, too, lan,” as you both proceed to head to the bedroom.

a/n - let me know if you all want this continued! and feel free to send in requests for what you want to see! xoxo

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h4m1lt0ns · 9 months

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꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴carlos sainz jr x y/n y/l/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔carlos is down bad for his girlfriend and he won’t stop showing it.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔dina denoire

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕none, fluff

y/n

♡ liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 1,394,291 others.

y/n me and my baby in spain 🏝

tagged: carlossainz55

120,492 comments.

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username carlos don’t like or comment the second y/n posts challenge GO

➜ carlossainz55 no one will hype my girl up before me

➜ username “my girl” 😭😭

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username MOTHER ???

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username I WANT YOU SO BAD Y/N

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➜ username you can bring your boy🤮boyfr🤮boyfriend🤮 with you

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➜ carlossainz55 me too

➜ carlossainz55 that photo is actually my lock screen and home screen

username me and my husband aren’t even that serious y/n 😍

carlossainz55 okay stop looking at my girlfriend guys

username 🤩🤩🤩

username HOW ARE YOU REAL ??????

username favourite wag 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

➜ username carlos is the wag here let’s be real

username i want you so bad

lilymhe i miss you wifey 🥺

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y/n

♡ liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly and 993,779 more.

y/n everywhere we went has been so pretty i love it here 🥹🤍

220,281 comments.

carlossainz55 BEAUTIFUL.

carlossainz55 MY GIRLFRIEND IS BEAUTIFUL.

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➜ carlossainz55 she 100% is

username miss y/l/n 😩😩😩

username carlos will always look like a normal regular citizen when y/n is around

➜ username REALLLL

username curly hair y/n can spit in my face and i’ll say do it again

liked by carlossainz55

charles_leclerc come home the kids miss you

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➜ carlossainz55 me too

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carlossainz55

♡ liked by y/n, pierregasly, danielricciardo and 2,104,284 others.

carlossainz55 date night with my darling angel 🥂🖤🕯

482,294 comments.

username DARLING ANGEL 😭😭😭

username STOP THIS IS EVERYTHING 🥹

y/n i love you to death

➜ carlossainz55 i love YOU to death

landonorris parents 🗣

➜ y/n my son 🗣

username favourite couple fr fr

username carlos is obsessed and honestly same

➜ username shit i’d be obsessed too if y/n was my gf

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➜ carlossainz55 seriously best feeling in the world 🖤🖤

francisca.cgomes I WANT MY WIFE BACK CARLOS

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charles_leclerc mama y papa

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liked by carlossainz55

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#f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x you #f1 #lewis hamilton x reader #pierre gasly x reader

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gh0stlyfixation · 1 year

Text

Five AM

Warnings: none, reader has like 4 kids.

It’s been 8 months, will the kids remember me? Will my wife hate me for not having any communication? That is all Simon can think. He’ll certainly be surprised when he sees a new baby in your arms. Just two weeks old

It’s five am, and all four of your kids are awake, including the newest edition, a little two-week-old baby girl, girl number 4. You found out only weeks after Simon left and he was cut off from communication. You didn’t know when he’d be home or if he'd be home.

You did it all by yourself. Your oldest did help the best she could but she was only 8, she couldn’t do everything that Simon could but it was better than nothing. The littlest was born a month early, but to your hopes and prayers, she was as healthy as could be. She came home a few days after she was born.

This morning though, you were overwhelmed and stressed. You didn’t know if Simon was alive or dead, and if he was alive, what would he think of his fourth little girl? The kids screamed around you as they chased one another, who has energy this early in the morning?

You stand in the kitchen holding the crying baby who for the life of her, wouldn’t stop crying. You bounced her in your arms as you start to cry yourself. You don't know how much longer you can deal with Simons job. It's about time he does down. You needed more help now with the fourth but you didn't want to seem selfish, he did love his work.

Little do you know, Simon is on the other side of the front door. He too had his worries, would his kids remember him? Would you hate him for having zero communication? What if things changed?

But all of that is wiped away when he hears the screaming of kids inside and running footsteps all around. It was never a dull moment in the Riley house. He opens the doors and there’s running feet circling back around to the front door, they all stop and stare at Simon for a moment, “DADDY!” They all scream running into his arms.

They all push him down with their force, climbing all over him telling him how much they missed him, and kissed his masked face multiple times before one of them eventually rips it off, but he hears one say something about a baby, then he hears a baby crying.

Your ears perk up when your girls yell daddy, and how their running ceased and all of them yelling together, your eyes tear up more, he’s home.You walk to the front room to see Simon laying on the floor with the girls sitting all over him laugh and giggling. You see the smile on his face, he’s really home.

Eventually the girls get up, “wanna see new baby sister?” The youngest ask.

Simon looks up and sees your red teared face. You smile at him, but he can see the exhaustion behind it. He looks over your body, he sees your wearing one of his large t-shirts and slippers, you looked like you’ve just given birth. His suppositions are right when he sees the bottom of the “fancy underwear” as you say.

“Simon,” you say quietly rocking the baby who has now quieted down. He stands up and walks to you, his towering body looking down at the newborn. You don’t notice the tears falling, you are too shocked to see Simon in front of you.

“Mommy? Why you crying?” The middle child asked.

You snap back into reality, rubbing away the tears as you see Simon has his eyes fixed on the newest addition, “mommy is just really happy daddy is home.” You finally say with a few sniffles.

The kids shrug and run away leaving just the three of you, “what’s her name?” Simon asked you.

You smile, relieved he isn't angry. “Emma, I remember you saying you liked it when I was pregnant with our last little.” You say as you look down at her, she sleeps peacefully now. “Wanna hold her?” You ask Simon. He nods and gently takes her from your embrace and rocks her softly as she stirred awake.

Simon smiles at her, looking up at you and he sees the love and adoration in your eyes as you watch him hold his fourth little girl, you smile, but he sees how tired you are. It is now only five-thirty in the morning.

“Go back to sleep. I’m home now, your not alone anymore. And I don’t want you getting out of bed, you need to heal.” He tells you.

You hold yourself with your arms and nod your head feeling emotional again, “how long until you leave again?” You whisper. You knew his line of work and that his calls could be unpredictable, but this last deployment messed you up, he can’t leave you again.

He sees a few tears slip, “I’m retiring love,” he tells you wiping away a tear with his thumb. Your eyes brighten at those words. You hug him as tight as you could with the baby in his arms. “I’m gonna send the kids over to the neighbors for the night, just us three. You can fill me in on what I’ve missed.” You nodded in his shoulder.

“Lyssa says she has a boyfriend.” You start with information.

“What? She’s only eight!” Simon speaks and you giggle taking the little one with you as you carefully walk up the stairs to your room.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x you #ghost x reader #mw2 #cod mw2

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iinsertblognamee · 6 months

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bluey and phonecalls

summary ― your son misses sam

pairing ― sam kerr x foord!reader

warning/s ― fluff, mentions of pregnancy

“Mama?”

Theodore looked up at you, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes as he let out a small yawn. You let out a small ‘coo’ as you ran your fingers through his hair and placing his bowl down in front on him. His younger sister, Hazel, was giggling to herself as she smashed her cut up fruit all over her highchair.

“Yes baby?”

“Where’s mummy? I wanna watch Bluey with her?”

It was no secret that the last few months have been pretty hectic for your growing family. Sam helping Chelsea win the FA Women’s cup and then moving straight onto getting for the World Cup. During all that madness Theo had celebrated his fourth birthday and you had found out your were expecting yours and Sam’s third child.

With all that, Theo had started to notice that Sam wasn’t around as much but still didn’t quite grasp why. Sam was currently at training getting ready for their game against Denmark. After being put on the bench due to her calf playing up, Sam had made it her mission to enure she would be back on that field as fast a possible and as much as you knew how important this World Cup was for her and the team, you couldn’t help but feel sad. Your children were missing out on spending time with their mummy and you were missing out on spending time with your wife.

“She’s at training baby, but we’re gonna go watch her play tonight with Nana!” You let excitement fill your voice, knowing that the uplifting tone would get him more excited for tonight.

“With Aunty Cat-Cat?” A smile fills your lips, as you run your fingers through his hair once again before placing a kiss on the top of his forehead. “Yeah baby, Aunty Cailtin will be there too!”

It was no secret that Sam was his favourite person in the whole wide world, from the second he could kick in your womb, it was very clear that Sam was his person. Her adore everything she did, whether it was kick game-winning goals or flip pancakes in the morning - Theo didn’t care, she could do no wrong. The pair were two peas in a pod, Theo demanding that Sam teach him anything and everything about football (which, of course she loved).

Although Sam was his everything, there was one other person on this planet that Theo loved almost as much, your sister, Miss Caitlin Foord. Whether it was the football or the fact that she spoils him rotten anytime she’s around he loved her.

“Can they come over now mama? I just wanna watch one show” His small voice breaks your heart a little, his plead with those big brown eyes starring up at you. A small frown appears on your face, as you shake your head “I’m sorry baby, they’re busy at the moment but we can still watch it together?”

He lets out a small okay, as he takes a few bites of cereal. Hazel let out a squeal as she continued to bang on the highchair, your attention turning away from Theo and onto her.

“Oh my goodness! Look at my messy baby” Hazel giggles even louder as you make your way over to her - wiping off the fruit and picking her out of her highchair. A small grunt leaving your lips - your pregnant belly making it difficult for you to hold onto her.

“Mama be careful!” Theo jumping down from his chair and running towards you - his arms up, ready to take Hazel out of your arms. “It’s okay baby, I got this”. You made your way, slowly, to the living room - Theo watching your every move (just like his mother).

You placed Hazel in her play pen, before settling yourself down on the couch next to your son.

“How bout we watch some bluey together? Would that be okay?” You watched Theo think about it for a few seconds, his eyebrows frowning for a second before he nods his head. “Okay mama, we do that”

You let out a small laugh as you pull him closer to you and place another kiss on his forehead. Bringing the blanket from next to you over both your bodies, Theo got himself comfortable around your bump - his little hand placed right where Sam would normally have it. The sound of the Bluey intro was enough to pull his attention away as you pulled out your phone - clicking on Sam’s contact.

yn; hey baby, you busy?

You bring your attention over to Hazel for a few seconds, would was happily playing in her pen with all the toys your mum and sisters had spoilt her with when you had arrived back in Australia.

The buzz of your phone takes your attention away.

sam; having a break for some food

sam; i got about 15 minutes

yn; hows your calf?

sam; much better

sam; the physio did wonders on it

sam; reckon i could be playing tonight

yn: that’s so good baby!

yn: we’ll be in the crowd cheering you on

sam; my favourite thing in the world

sam; did you see what i left out for you to wear tonight?

yn: the jersey with foord on it?

sam; funny.

sam; last i remember the ring on your finger means youre a kerr now

yn: i love you mrs kerr

sam; that what i thought

yn: you nervous ?

sam; a little

sam; i wanna do right by the team

sam; and i feel like i’ve let everyone down the past couple of games

yn: you haven’t baby

yn: I promise

sam; how’s the kids going? Not giving you trouble are they?

yn: nah

yn: they’re being good

yn: Theo is missing you lots though

yn: he wanted to watch bluey with you

sam; my poor little man

sam; give me a second and i’ll call

yn: okay, i love you

sam; i love you too

You turned your attention back to the screen, the intro of a new episode was playing, Theo’s attention glued onto his favourite show. The intro hadn’t even finished before your phone started ringing, Sam’s name flashing across the screen.

“Baby look! It’s mummy!” Theo’s face lit up, the phone leaving your grip in an instant.

“Hi Mummy!” Theo squealed, his body jumping up and down with excitement. The loud squeals were enough to set Hazel off, wanting to be apart of whatever she felt she was missing out on. You triple check that Theo was okay on the couch before getting yourself off the couch.

“Hi Baby! Whatcha doing?” You hear Sam’s voice follow through the speakers as Hazel claps her hands and looks up at you. Picking her up once again, a small grunt leaving your lips brings the attention of both your wife and first child.

“Mama!”

“Love?”

“I’m okay!” you assure them both as you bring you and Hazel back to the couch, your daughter squealing once again once she sees Sam on the phone.

“What are you guys doing?” Sam asks once again, both kids attention completely on the phone screen.

“Watching Bluey with mama” Sam lets out a small chuckle, as you shake your head in the background. You and Sam had seen every single bluey episode there was. It being a fan favourite in your household (and the main attraction for the 24 hour plane trip from London to Sydney).

“That sounds fun! Have you been looking after our girls for me bubs?” Theo nodded his head, with a very serious look on his face. Your heart beating just that little bit faster. Sam was very protective over her family, which your son had noticed and of course copied.

“Of course mummy! I even helped mummy get Hazel ready”

You nodded your head in agreement, as you placed a kiss on the back of his head before adding “He did. Such a good big boy aren’t you baby”.

You catch the sound of Sam’s teammates in the background, already knowing that Sam would need to say her goodbyes soon enough. Looking down into your arms, Hazel was fast asleep.

“Are you coming home soon?” His little voice breaks both yours and Sam’s hearts, knowing this wasn’t going to end well.

“I’m sorry baby, i’m at training getting ready for tonight’s game” You could see Theo’s shoulders drop in disappointment, Sam noticing as well. “But! But baby, you and mama and Hazel are coming to watch us tonight so i’ll get to see you really really soon at the stadium. How does that sound huh?”

You could see that Theo was torn between his emotions, the noise of the matidlas getting louder and you could see Sam watching Theo - waiting for his response. “We watch bluey together tomorrow?” He shyly asks, looking between you and the phone.

“Of course baby! We can watch Bluey all day long tomorrow, but only if your promise to look after mama for me tonight and cheer for us!”

Yet again, Theo nodded his head with purpose, these new ‘comands’ practically written in stone for your son. “I will mummy, I’ll cheer the loudest”

“I know you will baby, but look. I need to go back to training but I can’t wait to see you tonight okay. I love you so much”

“I love you mummy”

“Love you Sam” you add on, as she blows you both a kiss before the call disconnects.

Theo waits a few seocnds after the call to end before turning his body towards yours “Mama”

“Yes baby”

“Can we wait Bluey until we go watch mummy play”

This was going to be a long day.

#sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagines #sam kerr imagine #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader

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blondieeu · 4 months

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hellcats srts. simon r.

carhusbsnd!simon who when he’s not in the front lines or not spending time with his wife, he’s working on cars.

carhusband!simon who doesn’t love anything more than you, and cars.. so what’s better than the both of them together?

carhusband!simon who always ends up fucking you in, or on his new mercedes benz because he thinks it’s so hot that he has a nice as car and a nice as lady at the same time.

carhusband!simon who always wants to take you with him whenever he goes to give the car a test drive when he’s finished fixing it.

carhusband!simon who says thinks like “wanna take this one for a spin love?” .. “i mean we gotta see if it’s gonna still be good if an… earthquake…or somethin’, yeah?” like ok simon just say you wanna fuck

carhusband!simon who teaches your kids how to change a tire, change the oil, teach your kids how to drive and if they fail their drivers test cuss the guy of failed them out because “his kids know how to god damn drive”

carhusband!simon who insists you have 2 cars even though you tell him it’s unnecessary, and just when he says once he gets the third he’ll stop.. he ends up getting a fourth, and now you’re looking for a new house with 2! garages.

carhusband!simon who on sundays gets dressed in his worn out t-shirt, jeans and work boots and goes to work in the garage on whoever’s car he was fixing that week for the “extra money” that you obviously didn’t need since his job paid so well.

carhusband!simon that uses his old skateboard to slide under the car on his back and to fix things.

carhusband!simon who works all day until supper, and when he finally comes back inside he’s all got oil stains on his clothes and work shoes, and is tracking mud throughout your chestnut brown wood flooring.

carhusband!simon who kisses you when you come out so bring him some water and a snack, and laughs when you mean mug him when you walk away and he slaps your ass.

carhusband!simon who appreciates when you just sit in the garage with him for hours just so he doesn’t “feel lonely” as you say.

carhusband!simon who cracks a lot of car jokes that literally nobody in the house understands because it’s all women who don’t know and don’t want to know anything about cars.

carhusband!simon who’s thrilled when you’re having a son so he can get him invested in cars the same way he is.

carhusband!simon who puts your name in his passenger seat side window.

bonus!:

carhusband!simon who gets you and your kids names tatted!

blondieeu xx

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lilissmut · 5 months

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Dad bakugo x Mom reader

“Cmon Sumi, you’ve gotta eat, take at least two bites? Pleasee?”Sighing to yourself as your four year old is refusing to eat, again.

“but mama, i don’t wanna eat this” Sumi, your daughter, is a very picky eater.

“please baby? You can’t just eat French fries and chicken nuggets.” You’re starting to get frustrated when you hear your 8 month old, Hatsuki, start to cry.

“Eat half, or else dada is getting involved.” Sumi sighed in frustration, but was a mamas girl, and didn’t like her dad as much as you, her mom. So she started to take a couple bites of her food, knowing how angry her dad gets at her for giving her mom a hard time.

smiling at your daughter, you walk upstairs to your eight month old son, Hatsuki. He wasn’t much of a crier, but when he did cry, it was hard to get him to quiet down.

You picked up your son, and rocked him back and fourth in a soothing motion, praying he’d go back to sleep. Or else he’d be up all night.

“s’okay, mamas right here baby” you sat down on the bed, holding him in your arms. You couldn’t get over the fact that Hatsuki looked so much like your husband, Bakugo. The feeling of relief washed over you when you finally got Hatsuki to quiet down, and fall back asleep.

Walking down the stairs with your baby in your arms, you see Sumi still eating her food.

“thank you baby. You ate so much of it.” Smiling at her, you gave her a kiss on the forehead.

It was around two hours later you Heard the door open, and you knew those steps so well, they were katsukis.

You overheard your husband asking “where’s mama, sumi?” You were half asleep and didn’t even both to listen in any further.

“babe I’m in the living room!!” You stated loud enough for him to hear, but hopefully not loud enough to wake up the baby.

smiling as you heard him walk towards you.

“Hey babe how was work?” He smiled and gave you a kiss on the lips.

“it was good. Stupid wanna be villains, but you know how it is babe.” Sumi ran over to her dad and gave him grabby hands, wanting him to pick her up.

Grunting a little as he picked her up, and sat on the couch beside his gorgeous wife.

You leaned into bakugos shoulder, tired and stressed, but those emotions were shared between you two.

You were just finally happy to have your husband home.

#dad bakugou #bakugo katuski x reader #fake scenarios #bakugou x you #female reader #katsuki bakugo mha #lovers #mha #wife reader #husband bakugo #katsuki bakugo #pro hero au #pro hero bakugo x reader

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taylormarieee · 5 months

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I want you under me, not the Christmas Tree-Day 11 Kuai Liang

Prompt: Kuai wants you under him feeling good...

Pairing: Kuai Liang x Fem!Wife!Reader

Word Count: 430

Warnings: PiV sex, Doggy style, Missionary(For like 7 seconds), Dom!Kuai, Sub!Reader, Established Relationship, Begging, ass smacking

"Fuck me then" were your last words before Kuai was ramming into you like a bull.

You hair pulled back as he sent stigining smacks to your ass. He groaned when he saw your ass jiggle, his thrusts picking up speed.

You were already on your fourth orgasm for the night and you felt like you couldn't take anymore of your husbands dick.

You whined and moaned trying to get far away from him as possible but he just kept pulling you back for more.

So he could get deeper inside of you. The faster he went the deeper he felt.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your orgasm approaching.

You felt it about to hit you, waves of pleasure so close to washing over you but Kuai pulls out and you whine out in frustration.

"Whyyy! I was so close babe!" You cry out. He grunts flipping you on your back.

"Hush my love and take this dick like a good girl." He orders. You shut your mouth real quick and watched with furrowed brows as he slid his cock back into your tight, aching hole.

You moaned out in pleasure and threw you head back. Your knuckles turning white at how hard you were gripping the sheets.

You bite your lip until the bottom is fully engulfed in your mouth. Your body shakes and convulses as the wave of pleasure from your orgasm rushes through you.

You shake and cry, tears falling from your eyes at the overwhelming sense of pleasure.

You grab onto your husbands shoulders leaving marks that he will surely see in the morning.

You husband groans as his hips stutter and he shakes as you feel his cock twitch unloading his seed inside you.

"Yea, oh fuck, I'm your little cumdumpster! Load my pussy with your cum please Kuai!" You cry out as he kisses your neck.

He thrusts into you slowly now to make sure his cum stays inside you. You absentmindedly close your legs at the feeling of Kuai pulling out.

You sigh a sigh of relief and Love. He smiles at you and kisses your forehead.

"Would you be mad if I said I wanna go again love?" he asks innocently his cock hardening at the thought of having you scream his name again.

You just smirk and throw your hands up in defeat. "Take me baby. I'm all yours." You say before he's all up on you again kissing your neck and needing your breasts.

Boy was this going to be a long night...

Taglist: @aerangi @itzdarling @crimsonbubble @yanderestarangel

#kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x you #kuai liang #mortal kombat smut #Kuai Liang smut #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #Kuai liang #mk scorpion

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mysicklove-main · 1 year

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A/N: I saw a head cannon once that said Kirishima wants like six kids and it never left my mind.

Your husband gives you those eyes again. The fourth time this has happened. "Hey. No. No. No. Stop it! We are not having another one!"

Eijiro lets out a hushed, but dramatic whine, as he leans over his six month old daughters crib. "But she needs a sister," He pouts and you scoff at him.

"She already has two older brothers." You reason as you lead him out of the nursery and shut the door softly. He follows at your heels, grabbing your waist from behind. His large, very much pro-hero frame presses up against you and like usual, you are trapped in it. He leans down and begins leave small kisses along your neck.

"But isn't she so cute? Cmon we already have three, how hard could one more be?" He purrs and you sigh in his hold.

"Easy for you to say. I don't wanna go through another nine months of hell." He chuckles at you, vibrations go up your spine at it.

"But you look so pretty pregnant."

"You are a pervert."

"Only for my beautiful wife and the mother of my children."

You look over at the door just across the hall. The room your three and five year old share. You hear their hushed giggles, trying not to caught past bedtime and smile.

"You really want another one?" He twirls you around, forcing you to look up at him and grins, pressing his lips to yours.

Eijiro, after a long moment, peels himself away and whispers dreamily, "Yes. Or two or three more..." You lightly punch him and he laughs.

"Alright, one more. But that's it Eijiro!" He lifts you up effortlessly and twirls you around, just like he did the other three times. You giggle and he kisses you again.

He begins to walk backwards, leading you toward the entrance of your bedroom. "Alright. One more. For now...."

You raise your eyebrows at him and pull away dramatically. "Never mind. I take it back. We are getting you a vasectomy." You push him out of the room and shut the door in his face.

He gasps and whisper yells, trying not to wake his daughter. "Babe, I'm just joking! Cmon don't be like this! I need to be in the room if we want another baby!"

After a couple second of his pleading, you give in. You giggle in triumph before swiftly opening the door and dragging him in toward the bed.

With the years to come, you guys compromised. Which meant that the two of you had five children. Even then, Eijiro still tried to ask for another. He was not successful.

#drabbles #eijiro x y/n #eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima mha #kirishima eijiro imagine #kirishima x reader #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima imagines #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #fluff #eijiro fluff #kirishima fluff #kirishima imagine #imagines #eijiro imagines

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stuck1nthelimbo · 23 days

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im so normal about them — 📌 post | masterlist | ko-fi

6 》Masturbation - Squirting - Dacryphilia ― Truth or Fuck [Fushiguro Toji x f!reader]

Everyone knows about the 'Truth or Dare' game, right? How about the adult version?

TAGS!!! 2.1k, age gap, toji fucks son's friend (20s), masturbation, squirting, rough-ish, creampie, no beta

With the perfect freezing weather and knee-deep snow, a small group of friends has gathered at Fushiguro’s cottage. We were greeted by the host’s father, Fushiguro Toji. I became smitten with him when I met him months ago and after gathering the courage to admit it to my friends…

“I dare you…” Yuji pretends to come up with a dare, yet I’m aware of what he’s about to say. I roll my eyes and blow lip bubbles. Nobara hides behind him, giggling at my upcoming disgrace, “I dare you to go and kiss Mr. Fushiguro, on the lips,” the audible gasp slips Megumi and he nudges his friend, who’s impatiently squirming. My friend points at the vodka shot, which can negate the dare, however, I’m conflicted: between being unaware of what the diabolical trio has in plan and the fact that I don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“I’ll get back to you,” I flick Yuji’s forehead as I walk by him, trudging to the kitchen. Peeking in, my eyes discover broad shoulders and a muscular back with a skintight black t-shirt. For a moment, I envy his ex-wife, who enjoyed all these and bore his child. Well, let’s focus more on the conception of said child and less on rest. “Um, Mr. Fushiguro?” He turns head while fiddling with something in the fridge, then twists on his feet, squinting at me.

“You kids involvin’ me now?” he blatantly mocks the group, puffing air through the nose.

“They dared me to kiss you,” shuffling on the spot, I mutter, and he scoffs. His head drops to the side, crossing arms over the puffed-out chest. That shirt is holding on its dear life.

“What are you, twelve? You’re older than those punks,” Toji’s peeved, yet leans forward and sticks his cheek out. I shake my head and point at my lips with an index finger. The scoff’s louder now, gives me a peck on the lips, and dismisses me with a hand gesture.

Not enough. So I’ll make sure I end up with another opportunity. The second time doesn’t quench my thirst either. Maybe the third time’s a charm? Now with the gust in my stroll, I prance in the kitchen and heartily grin at the eldest. The sudden aggression alarms me: large palm grabs my face and his lips crash onto mine, tongue slithering into my mouth. This grown-up kiss leaves me breathless.

“The fourth time you’ll wobble out of here,” he’s so fine when his eyes gleam with malice and a sly smirk contorts his face.

I shouldn’t have drunk so much. Now I’m tiptoeing down the stairs for water while fixing an oversized shirt. Caught a glimpse of the clock on my way, it’s around two in the morning. Everybody’s asleep, it’s dead silent until I step foot on the first floor and hear the faint sound of the TV. I waltz into the kitchen, grab a water bottle, and plop on an empty sofa, sipping.

“Hey,” the low disembodied voice startles me, I jump, almost spilling the liquid. Something huge slouches beside me. Now shirtless Fushiguro Toji glances at me. A sculpted chest and abdomen and the gray sweatpants leave so little to the imagination, “Someone dared you to kiss me at midnight? You’re a tad late.”

“Come on, Mr. Fushiguro, give me a break. They dared me, I didn’t have a choice,” I lie through my teeth, averting gaze from him to the TV. He looks back at the screen, his hand tampering with the remote.

“First,” the index finger raises, the rest hold the remote, “You didn’t drink, shots were untouched. And second,” the middle finger flicks up, “stop calling me Mr. Fushiguro, Toji’s fine,” he mutters. The silence lingers between us, the low volume of the movie relieves the awkwardness.

“Hey, wanna play ‘Truth or Dare’?” I break the silence and he glances at me with an embarrassed smile.

“And you’re gonna ask me who’s my crush? Pass, kiddo,” he brushes off the idea without considering.

“Come on,” I straighten between the cushions, my digits tap on his veiny forearm, “truth or dare?” his eyes bounce to my dimly shadowed face, and a sigh of defeat escapes him.

“Truth.”

“Have you ever…” I wander off, sweeping the room with my eyes before they land back on him, “had sex outside the bedroom?” Toji shoots me a dumbfounded look, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. The shock shifts to a flirtatious smirk.

“Oh, you meant with a twist,” his lips pucker, eyes tag along the flickering TV, “alright,” he clears throat, “almost always. I don’t remember the last time I had sex in bed,” chewing on the inside of my cheek, I anticipate the question, “truth or dare?”

“Truth,” half-lidded, verdant eyes stare at me.

“Have you ever hooked up with a man twice your age?” He knows the answer, the stuck-up grin plastered on his scarred lips. I audibly swallow and shake my head. He faintly nods, proud of himself.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Do you prefer slow and romantic sex or rough fucking?” He chortles, air eagerly puffs out of his nose, and his eyes glance at the TV. In a moment, his head turns back to me and drops a bit, staring from under the lashes.

“I prefer to hold down brats and turn them into incoherent, blabbering messes. I like leaving a mark,” his husky voice reverberates in my ears, and my tailbone tingles. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I maintain the eye contact, holding my breath in. He’s pleasantly surprised. His tongue glides across the teeth.

“You should kiss the player in front of you,” he’s so casual, and his eyes trail down to my lips. I lean forward, supporting my weight on open palms pressing down the cushions. Poising face near his, he mumbles, “for thirty seconds,” I barely register the statement before his large hand clasps the back of my head and pulls me in a sloppy kiss. His teeth nibble, fleshy tongues lap, fingers on my nape claw along the hair, steamy breath spills over me and half a minute runs out with the spiderweb-thin threads of saliva spreading between us. Glazed eyes gawk at me, stirred breathing heats my throat, and he skulks toward me, tossing the remote on the floor.

“Truth or dare?” I somehow utter the sentence and hear him click his tongue and mouth the word ‘Dare’ without halting the predatory movement. “Just touc–,” Toji’s low chuckle prickles my skin with goosebumps and I’m unable to finish. His teeth ready to feast on my delicate neck freeze midway, his hand crams between the flimsy underwear and soft pussy, index and middle fingers plunging in my sopping cunt without an ounce of resistance. I mewl at the intrusive sensation and glance at the older male. He’s dead absorbed in the sounds and the texture my gummy walls exude with each knuckle-deep thrust, occasionally the thumb flits across the clit, and I twinge with each brush.

The other hand lurks under the shirt, feeling around before grabbing onto my breast, kneading it with his fingers, possessing the softness of the flesh. Buried digits quicken the pace, the forceful thumb rubs against the bud, drawing few quiet whimpers out of me. The prominent squelchs of my wetness echo. Something pleasant swirls in the depth of my stomach, coils several times and pours downward, between the thighs. His long fingers meticulously slip the soaked underwear to the side, before pulling out and relentlessly sinking back in.

"Wait, Toji," I protest, yet he positions himself between my legs, spreading them further apart; I feel something coming, the unfamiliar sensation and without the proper amount of time, the ecstatic pleasure swallows me, my legs tremble and I gush all over him. Literally. Under the heavy eyelids, I notice how half his body glints, as if splashed with water, "oh, my God," the audible whisper under the heavy breathing snaps his attention. He straightens and I see droplets of transparent liquid on his torso, guiding down the chiseled figure.

"First time squirting?" the cynical tone annoys me, but I'm still under the influence of soft, gentle waves of post-orgasmic bliss and prop myself up, "Clean up," now the tone has changed into demanding, irritating me further. Reaching hand for the paper towels next to the sofa, his palm seizes my wrist, "no, not that," the sharpness makes me tingle again; I push my tongue out, and after his validating smile, I press it flat on his damp chest. The skin feels smooth under my muscle as it glides around the muscular chest, under the collarbone and finishes close the crevice of the neck. I can feel the vibration of his throaty laugh and I pull back, searching for his eyes, before being pinned down on the sofa by a strong hand around my throat.

With one hand, fingers tightly envelope under my jaw, the other yanks his sweatpants down, and even in the dimmed TV light, I make out the silhouette of his fat veiny cock, bouncing out of the boxers. His fingers pull my underwear aside, straining the fabric and harshly grazing his manhood against my drenched pussy. I whine and buck my hips, but he pulls back in time. Brushing the tip of his cock against the swollen clit, he pity smiles the following childish pouts from me. The index and middle fingers press down on his cock, firmly nudging the head of his cock on my sopping cunt until I fling legs around in frustration.

"Truth or dare?" Both of his hands wrap around my thighs, hooking his girth at the entrance of my cunt, teasing. I ignore the question, but the nails digging into my skin bring me back to his expression.

"Uhhh," I reluctantly mutter, "truth," he leans forward, leveling his face with mine, and one of my hands tug on the strands of hair on his nape, closing the distance between us, Toji’s shaky breath seeps under my nostrils. The stillness agitates me, until he bucks his hips, bottoming out inside. My mouth gapes, but before any sound escapes, his palm blankets over my trembling lips, and the pillow under my neck dampens his grunts.

“Everything you wanted?” the ‘truth or dare’ question flies over my head, my brain short-circuited and drunk on the smell of sweat beading on the male’s temples. He hasn’t moved since he bottomed out, forcefully stretching my cunt around his thickness. Each spasm around him runs a shiver up my spine. The pain is buried deep between the ecstasy that radiates from the depths of my stomach. The nails I've dug in his hair nearly break the skin. The other hand weakly pushes against his flat stomach, to which his response is pushing himself inside to the hilt, grinding his groin against my sensitive clit. I swiftly shut my eyes and he, in a painstakingly slow manner, thrusts. Moving back and forth, reminding me with each thrust how enormous he is. He quickly picks up the pace, chipping away at my sanity with each hit. The room's filled with the quiet buzzing of TV and short, sharp grunts his throat echoes, alongside the wet sounds that emit between us.

With each passing second, another round of pleasurable waves swirl in the depth of my stomach. The hand over my mouth tightens as his hips stutter with each forceful thrust. The stuttering turns into hips bucking erratically, teeth grinding, sinking into my flesh, and throaty grunts, soon replaced by barely audible moans, as I feel something fill each nook and cranny of my gummy walls up. The grip on my face loosens while my hips shake following a stomach-churning, body-rippling orgasm.

His weight pulls away, and straightens in his seat: strands of damp hair glue to his forehead and cheeks, mouth hanging, Toji regains his steady breathing. I struggle to close my legs, the strained muscles ache with the smallest movement. The hot, viscous fluid leaks onto the sofa cushions from the apex of my thighs and the elder man groans in frustration, yet does nothing. With difficulties, rises off the sofa, trudging to the kitchen. I reach for the water bottle, almost spilling the contents of it all over my sore, tired body. My pussy stings and I know, this will be hell in the morning. But oh, well. He won this round of ‘Truth or Fu– Dare’.

270 notes · View notes

cometkenji · 16 days

Text

ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves - I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet.

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach. Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good.

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask.

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis.

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.”

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist.

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents.

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him.

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out.

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?”

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.”

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it.

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up.

No, it wasn’t.

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room.

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.”

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job.

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost.

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder.

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.”

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.”

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door.

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

–

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling.

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed.

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team.

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.”

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.”

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.”

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief.

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human.

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours.

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place.

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass.

“I’m Matthew.”

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area.

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink.

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.”

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.”

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed.

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored.

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.”

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.”

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core.

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke.

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.”

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately.

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless.

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden.

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

“He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past.

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.”

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes.

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought.

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive.

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own.

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car.

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car.

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to.

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you.

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels.

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

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