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syluses · 2 months ago

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𝄞 bloodhound

𓍯𓂃 hybrid sylus x female reader

(10k wc) ✦ summary: demanding, old, hostile— just a few of the warnings the man at the local shelter gave you before opening its cage. but it doesn’t matter. so long as he can protect you, all else can be forgiven. yet he’s more wolf than dog. more… man than wolf.

✦ content hybrid! sylus, nsfw/smut, hints of violence (not between mc/sylus), tension, kind of enemies to lovers-? he warms up to mc, knotting & adjusting to it, feral behavior, cunnilingus, slight somnophilia (not detailed), hinted age gap (all parties are 18+), possessive behavior, size difference,

✦ sidenote as by popular demand we have the latest installment of the lads hybrid collection 🙂‍↕️ i apologize in advance bc even as a wolf-man creature i made sylus older, because yall already know i love me a good ol’ fashioned dilf. dont ask me what bro is in dog years just know he’s scruffy! anyways do enjoy this lil thing while u wait for the caleb fic which i am busting my ass for :] 💕 ALSO sorry. he’s not feline this time… >_< this is def not my fav piece but i hope some of the girlies will like this one :] i did work hard on it it’s quite long. i gave it plot but tbh the smut is straight up filthy 😖 ig all we have left to do is hybrid rafayel! but that boy’s gonna have to wait lol :,) i do hav an idea for him tho ;D

With every step, it feels as if the walls of your apartment are closing in on you.

By your feet, at the front door you hardly have the coordination to close- blundering with the lock- lay a bouquet. Scattered. Flowers strew themselves across your hall as you kick the clasped bunch with the tip of your heel and glide from room to room, warily ducking into each one with your hand braced in front of your body, ready to beat and thrash and fight for your life.

In your other hand- a note. Crumpled, now. Shaking between your fingers.

You don’t think he’s gotten inside again- it seems the new home security measures you installed have thrown a wrench in his plans- for the moment, at least (although your spare key is still missing)- but you’re not wholly convinced you’re safe, either.

And to be clear, it’s better to be that than sorry: You’ll check each and every cranny of your little flat if it means reclaiming your peace of mind.

Your life is a different story though, as of late; threatened yet not something quite as simple to take back. Living with bated breath is no way to exist- neither with the perpetual looks thrown over your shoulder on the short trek back from the bus, the seemingly harmless creaks at night hurling you whole feet from your bed.

Because of that fear, you can hardly even bear to look down at the tiny paper in your hand to read it.

I loved that outfit on you yesterday babe. Can you blame me for taking a little from your wardrobe? ♡

Strangely, though, your drawer is just as you left it when you slide it from its framework almost fast enough to pop its screws, fearing the worst.

Clothes- your tee shirts, blouses for work and lacy bras, pencil skirts- fling across your bed, yet nothing is… amiss.

That outfit from yesterday.

With a gasp, you twist around to look at your hamper, and-

Sure enough, the lid is open.

✦

“-get a few new ones a week. Gets hard to keep up with ‘em all. All the personalities and quirks- a lot of them won’t even eat their kibble unless you look the other way.”

The cold brick walls and all the sounds bouncing off them (grunts, woofs, and nails against tile) become humdrum as the worker, waving a hand as he talks- rants, really- leads you through the pound.

The fluorescence lighting the place flares, whirs overhead. Everything about the setting is harsh. Obviously, you’re in no danger- but as you trail alongside him, you feel a sense of foreboding in your gut all the same. Like you’re walking into a dungeon.

The colorless walls swallowing up most of your vision make that silly threat seem an ounce realer.

You swallow, head on a swivel- yet not for fear, but sympathy as you pass an assortment of fenced-off pets. Some track you with a snarl. Some with eyes that plead. Still, they all share the undeniable tinge of distrust.

What an awful place, you think to yourself.

…But coming here had a purpose.

Your heels clip against the scratched floor and echo in rounds, a certain emptiness existing around you that seems misaligned with all the noise and sights.

Dogs in their cages— some upfront, teething at the metal, others: cowed to their corners, lying on thin blankets not quite as worse for wear.

To sum it up- creatures sapped of will. Defeated in life.

A distinct sorrow weighs in your chest, even as the employee happily drones on, a half-eaten tuna sandwich in one hand (the other: gesturing emphatically), hardly paying you any attention. To be fair, you’re giving him very little as well.

“-I mean, some don’t even eat at all. Picky things.”

Picky? You question quietly. Or without hunger? Their appetite for cheap, bagged kibble robbed right along with their appetite for life.

Your nails dent into your palm as you clench it.

It’s hard to get a word in edgewise as the man chatters away, but you manage to pile down your need to be polite for long enough to get in a:

Hey, excuse me, I asked what kind of dog you’d recommend for prot—

Clack, clack… Clack.

You come to a pause, dead-center in the walkway. The dull rhythm of his shoes remains where yours doesn’t.

“Heh. We got one a couple of months back who thinks this place is his own damn gourmet restaur-“

When he notices you’re not arm-to-arm, he, too, stops.

“Ma’am?” He turns.

“That one,” you breathe, just vaguely registering as the worker sidles up to you and glances at the cage you approach. The glint in your eye wins his interest.

For once since you entered the building, he shuts his mouth.

When he looks at ‘that one’ in question— a silver shock of fur, immersed in a shadow against the far wall— his eyes almost bulge from his skull.

A sharp laugh.

“Ah, little lady. Don’t wanna bite off more than you can chew, now. See-“

As he falls back into drivel (albeit, you lend an ear, curious now), you eye the pooch.

He looks a little wilder than the rest, a little more weathered, tucked to the corner of his cage but not quite ‘cowering’- no, he’s a touch too big and threatening for it to seem that way. More like… brooding.

…Yet you wonder all the same if that’s what he feels, too. Scared like most if not all of the others.

Your chest stirs again with that wisp of sadness.

If you could, you’d clip their collars to a leash and walk them all home, cramming them into your apartment with no thought and all heart. For reasons- countless reasons (having to do with your tiny home and even tinier wallet)- that’s not possible.

In a place as cold and unfortunate as this, he’d have every reason to be frightened, you think, but when your eyes soften with pity at him, his own narrow.

Thoughtfully, you blink.

As the worker rattles off his minor crimes around the playpen- and the hole he eats through their budget, what with his size- you can’t help but marvel at him.

Concerningly massive. With thick, silvery fur matted in certain areas, patchy with scars in others, and eyes that glow an unnatural shade of red- you can wholeheartedly say you’ve never seen the breed before. Less dog-like and more wolfish.

It warrants a raise of the brow, just what he’s doing here. Did he have an owner before? Was he abandoned by them? Or… was he just pulled from the street?

And if so, how many elephant-sized tranquilizer darts did it take to haul him here?

“So,” he says, stuffing his hand in his pockets, “Honestly, Ma’am, he’s probably not what you’re lookin’ for.” Giving your clacking heels and airy sundress a once-over, he sighs.

“We do have a Samoyed though- he was brought in just yesterday. Super playful. Great personality. Domesticated. He definitely won’t be here for long. Uh… this one here, though,” he snickers. “He’s unpredictable at the best of times. Growls when ya feed him- then growls some more ‘cause he’s still hungry... tsk,” he glances down at his hand, then. Evidently, there’s no mark there, but you think he’s imagining one that could’ve been.

“He’s on the older side, too. Can’t teach him any new tricks. And… big, as you can see. With his temperament, he’d probably tear a hole in your apartment. You, uh, you got an apartment, you said-?”

Right now, you should be thankful for all his advice- at the very least, relieved his chatter has become more meaningful, relaying all the pooch’s unruly habits. Yet you tune it all out, slightly cocking your head at the beast dog- a movement that, if you’re not imagining things, his scruffy one mirrors.

“He’s…”

“Yep. Like I said-“

“Perfect,” you breathe, falling to a crouch.

The man beside you coughs on his own spit. “What-? Uh, little lady, I seriously don’t think— hey, watch the hands! Don’t stick ‘em through!”

“-How much?”

You manage to pry your gaze from the ominous thing tucked a number of feet into his prison, cloaked and out of the light, to look up at the man. For all of the warnings and, really, defamation made against the animal— to his defense, he doesn’t lunge. Bark. Claw at the bars or slip his snout through to bite the harmless hand you extend in the space there.

No. With a lift of his whiskers, he watches.

Tuna-sandwich blinks. Eyes widening to twice their original size before he scrubs the lower half of his face.

Eventually, he shrugs. Takes a moment to process it.

As he does, you await the price with a hand already dipping inside your purse. I mean, you hope not to spend a small fortune during this outing- but it’s also an investment worth your while. There’s no saying when your stalker will show his face again. If tomorrow he’ll be waiting under your bed or in your closet for your return- hell, right now, the hackles on your neck are raised as if he could be lurking still.

A word relieves you of worries for naught.

“Nothing.”

…Wait- No, that can’t be right. Nothing? The- your future good boy is worth nothing?

“E-Excuse me?”

He sighs, exasperated. “You’d be doing us a favor,” is all he gives as an explanation. “You can have him for free.”

Dumbfounded, snapping your head back to the cage, you’re met with two crimson eyes that look almost hellish as they catch in the shifting fluorescence- and a pass of surprise on its face that appears almost… human.

“But, are you-“

“Haaaaah. Maybe it’s for the better. You’re like his savior, you know,” he comments, sparing a rather indifferent glance to the animal, “he oughta be thankful for you coming in here.”

And there, fucking again- like a blade wedged between your ribs and twisting—

“Too much longer and we would’a had to put him down.”

A squeeze of your heart.

Jaw fluttering shut, that morsel of information wipes the entirety of your hesitance out. Belatedly, you nod, perching your bag above your hip once more, a sense of determination smoothing out your features.

“When can we get him out of this cage?”

You ask without looking his way.

The sound of keys jingling on a ring has the silver-furred creature perking his left ear ever so slightly- a movement you track with curiosity as the beast’s chest swells in. It’s like he understands. Maybe he does. Maybe he’s seen countless people just like you filter in and out, pass him by, and ultimately land on a different pet to jailbreak take home.

“I can get you sorted right now,” he quips, helpful, “Just… You might wanna back up.”

Weirdly enough- and despite knowing you really should be cautious with a veritable beast from the local shelter, scarred to no end and skulking- all the tiptoeing around him is endearing in its own right.

He’s a good boy, you’re sure of it. Misunderstood, probably, like the rest of the poor, trembling things here— just in need of a nice, loving home and maybe a scritch or two behind the ear. And you’re positive, if nothing else, he’ll do plenty a good job at keeping your stalker at bay.

It takes a handful of minutes to loop the rope (not leash: rope) around his neck- yet the worker treats it as a pleasant surprise, muttering something about how he’s just a whit more cooperative today.

“Thank you,” you chime a bit breathlessly. Sure, your main goal in coming here was to find a suitable guard dog, but you can’t deny the excitement that flutters within as the gate closes to a now-empty cage, your new pet springing free.

Anticipation thrums in your chest as you eagerly accept the rope from him- “careful,” a snigger- and—

The ground beneath you all but gives way.

“Oh, sir- one more thing! What’s his name!”

He stops for a moment to turn halfway over his shoulder. Long, overgrown nails skittering across the floor as the leash tugs harshly and you’re rapidly propelled out the front door, into sunlight.

However, you do catch him shrugging.

“No clue.”

✦

A number of days pass. Those days drag by with an eagerness to get to know each other that seems only one-sided- and a caution on his end that borders uncanniness.

You buy him a fluffy dog bed (the biggest you could find; he’s bigger still). Quality food, not the rubbish they fed him at the pound. And you give him your patience; small, gentle smiles that you’re not entirely sure an animal can understand— but when you offer out your hand for him to smell, a sign that you mean no harm, he growls and retreats to his corner. He chooses one part of your tiny apartment to hunker down in and outright glares when you get too close.

This is your house.

This… was your house. Maybe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. As a week moves on, you concede to your bedroom or the sofa and watch him with resignation as he watches you back- and contemplate if you made the right choice.

Does he seriously hate you that bad? How can you make him understand that you don’t harbor any bad intentions for him-? I mean, aren’t animals supposed to have that preternatural kind of instinct anyway? to spot malice?

What is he spotting in you?

Curled up on the couch, you hang your hand off the arm and release the new brush you’d bought days ago. It’s seeming more and more like a useless purchase, yet after countless attempts to bathe and brush him- all for naught- it’s only now starting to settle.

Work was long. That one coworker was grating on your nerves more than usual and you could’ve sworn you heard a second pair of footfalls trailing yours after the bus back- but you can only look over your shoulder so many times without attracting the attention of people who start to wonder if you’re batshit crazy.

But you're not crazy. That- That psychopath is, and his countless notes and uninvited visits to your apartment while you’re gone are all proofs of that.

But that’s changed, now. If your dog hates you, he’ll hate an intruder even more.

You sigh, holding your head in your hands as you lean forward. Like a flower wilted, folded in on itself, too heavy with its withering to support its own weight. You rub your temples when you grudgingly glance up to the wolf-sized beast sulking in the corner.

He stares, of course; buttery light twinkling in imposing, ruby eyes in a way that almost makes him seem tame. Mellow.

Not quite.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to dislike him, or regret taking him off the pound’s hands— for all his stubbornness, the hostility he barely conceals, you know all too well that fear manifests itself in strange ways. Like when you almost snarled at your deskmate today for leaning over your shoulder again to review your work- the proximity too startling to handle. You’re irate. On alert. Scared. And it’s making you do unreasonable things as a way to calcify your soft skin into a protective shell. You start to think that you must be hard: the climate calls for it.

The mutt that broods behind your armchair is the picture of ominous- big and bad and threatening long before his lip even curls in warning. Everything about him screams see, look at my scars- my sharp teeth and nails. Don’t touch me. Don’t hurt me.

Your heart stirs.

Tiredly, you offer a small smile. “You are perfect, you know,” folding your leg over the other as you pat the open space of the couch beside you. It can fit four to six people if they cram together, but you know he’d take up the three cushions beside you if he sprawled out entirely.

He regards you with a microscopic flick of his ears. “Even if you don’t like me, that doesn’t change what I think about you. If you just let me give you a bath… I’ll let you sit on the couch, deal? I’m sure it’ll be comfier than what you got now,” you offer, gesturing harmlessly to the dog bed that lays unused by the table— for this reason or that, perhaps just as a way to show you he’s completely rejecting you, he’s avoided it.

Yes, he’s just a tatterdamelion, forgotten animal, operating out of instinct and whatever feels right.

Yes, you still had to mask your hurt over it.

You sigh. “I mean, I haven’t even thought of a name for you yet. And I’m sorry, I just…” Trailing off, you give your head a small shake and stand to your feet. In your mind, with no small amount of discontent, you realize you’ve reached a watershed here— one that separates your old, normal life from a sense of great uncertainty that rests on the horizon.

And you’re terribly concerned. And tired. But God forbid you start venting to a dog about it.

“Nevermind. Goodnight, boy,” you wave your doubts off dismissively, deliberately leaving the lamplight on lest he get scared in the dark. Sometimes, you think you see eyes staring back in it, too, so you put no judgement on him.

Pattering with heavy, sock-clad feet down the hall, “Sleep tight. Just tell me if you hear anything at the door-“

A labored sigh.

Nails clacking behind you— and for one awful second you fear the worst: You’ve turned your back to a beast.

Your breath hitches with the realization, yet as you swiftly spin around- half prepared to bolt or at the very least shield your head with your vulnerable, just as fleshy arms- you’re mistaken.

There, he stands, as a massive silhouette against the living room light angling into the narrow, dim hall. He’s like a bull in a china shop- monstrous, sharp claws etching lines into the lacquer of the maple wood floor, his tail sending fur gusting behind him as it falls. You become clear of two things, then:

One) you must sweep, and soon. And two)

He’s tilting his head- in an uncannily shrewd way- towards the ajar bathroom door beside you, and as he noses it open and stares at you, it’s with expectance.

Oh, and then three—

When you don’t respond right away, he steps around you and impatiently nudges you in- headstrong as ever- through the bathroom door with a throaty huff.

✦

He smells of strawberry shortcake. Vastly sweeter than what he really is, you think with a wry but endeared smile, when you extend a slow, ever-cautious hand to pet.

To your surprise, he lets you.

Call it a truce between you both. A comfier place for him to crash at for a little more peace of mind on your end.

With all the dirt and dried muck lathered out from his coat (it took an hour or so, and patience- as he flung water and stubbornly tried to readjust in the small tub- lots of it), you’re given the chance to finally see the beauty of his breed.

Chalky white fur, soft as the cashmere sweater stowed in your closet on standby for the chilly autumn weeks ahead. His hair is long, perhaps overdue for a trim- not that you’re deluded enough to believe he’d allow a groomer anywhere near him- and easily covers most of the scarring underneath.

Convincing him it was safe to let you clip his nails was an even harder task than getting him in the bath- but he… cooperated. In a looser sense of the word.

None of your limbs are missing. That’s a small miracle in itself. You’re thankful for the little breakthroughs with your new pet, even if it feels like you’re walking uphill all the while.

He hops up on the sofa beside you. True to your word, you allow it, the springs dipping beneath you both as he settles.

If the couch fell through the floor and onto the one below in a mist of crumbled drywall, you’d have no right to be surprised. None at all.

Trying not to show a fraction of your joy as he sets his head on your lap lest that deter him, you bite back a grin and rest a hand on his back. You avoid needless contact with his head- you get the feeling that’s a iffier place for him. You’d respect it, of course. Your show of patience has been nothing less than outstanding in the past week. Now that you’re finally making headway with him (and yes— his letting you bathe and sit with him is headway), you’re encouraged.

Besides…

Unpredictable. The forbidding advice of the shelter employee rings in your head.

Ahem.

It’s late.

Tomorrow, you’ve another long day of work and second-guessing your surroundings and the people in them. Whether or not you’ll be attacked in your own home by your persistent ex-boyfriend who couldn’t stop meddling with your life even if it meant saving his own.

The doubt, momentarily, is pushed to the back burner.

You smooth your hands through his velvety fur. A strange layer of peace drapes itself over you, warming your chest like a fleece as his back rises and falls, your quiet breaths punctuating his own heaving ones.

“You’re a good boy, you know,” you murmur contentedly as you lay your head back and drift off. A crimson set of eyes regards you carefully, peering up through fine, snowy lashes.

From the barrel of his chest, he lets out a deep rumble like he understands. You know he doesn’t.

Half awake, you weave your fingers along him, “You are. You are a good boy,” as if it’s come as an epiphany to you- made realer as it’s spoken.

Before you let sleep take you entirely, you murmur with a ghost of a grin, teasing despite knowing it’s ridiculous because your words aren’t coherent to him- just a swooning, soft sound to bitten ears—

“Hey… I could tell you didn’t really like Cookie, or Sweetie, or Dragonfruit, but… what about…”

A moment passes. Barely, you register his snout lifting from your thigh.

“Sylus.”

Before dozing off, you’re fairly certain- for his sake- you’d left the lamp on that night.

…But when you wake the next morning to your alarm blaring in the room over, all that lights the living space is the sun streaming through the blinds.

✦

You blink and autumn is in full throttle.

You blink and you’re trading your thin sleep shorts out for pajama pants and slippers- layering your work blouses with wooly cardigans.

Days leap over one another like cards of a rolodex— yours, on your cubicle desk: filled with doodles of the unruly pooch waiting at home for you. Idling over him is all that you can do to ease your mind as anxiety gnaws through.

You worry for him when he’s home alone. Not because you heed the warnings you were once given- ‘he’ll tear a hole in your walls’- but because you care for him, and with that brings the inexplicable want to see him as soon as possible.

Of course, he can’t speak, but he shows in his own way that he misses you too when you’re gone.

Once your shift ends, you do as you did the day before. You quickly take the jacket off your wheely chair and gather your things, waving to the select few coworkers who don’t make you want to rip your hair from the root.

Perhaps if you’re quick enough, you’ll even make it off the bus, to your complex, before the sun sets. You appreciate fall for its colors. Not for the darkness it brings far too early to be comfortable with.

Every alley appears with teeth, in those eerily quiet moments when you make the short trek back home. Cars purr beside you on the congested roads, and despite cursing traffic on the ride to your stop, you’re grateful for it now.

At least more people are out; potential buffers to stave off your crazy ex from putting his hands on you…

Potential witnesses if he does.

Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit. Every evening you can’t help but wish you could just- take Sylus with you to work. But for so many reasons that’s just not possible.

Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you breathe out a fine mist and pick up the pace.

You can’t escape dusk from falling- but you can take advantage of the early moments of it right before night comes swinging.

You nervously glance up to the sky, a fiery swatch of orange sat under starry blue, and tell yourself it’s fine.

…It’s fine- and yet you swear on all things holy you can hear boots pacing behind yours—

A gasp. You turn around and get ready to rip your pepper pray from the scabbard that is your pocket- for naught. Emptiness greets you. Sneering and quiet. In the distance, deeper into the city, a car honks. Where you are now though, you’re more or less alone.

You wet your lip where it’s dented from biting. You turn around, and press back on.

It’s okay. You’re almost home. Just a bit further. Within ten minutes you’ll be crooning to your ‘puppy’ and itching behind his ear while he rigidly thumps his tail, closing his eyes indifferently as if he wasn’t hurrying to the door as soon as he heard the lock.

Yes, that’s right. In ten minutes- on the dot (you know because you’re toying with your watch to calm yourself)- you’ll be slipping off your jacket and refilling his water bowl, tossing him scraps as you prepare a nice steak dinner in celebration of your weekend commencing. The fancy wine you’ll pair with it is to help wash it all down and pretend you’re financially better off than you are. Not to help your nerves.

…Even Sylus, the creature who doesn’t understand you even if sometimes it seems he unexplainably does, would be hard-pressed to believe such a feeble lie.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Your heels. A dull, monotonous rhythm against pavement, one you relish now because it fills the crisp, silent air.

Then-

Tap tap tap.

Your heels- “Hey baby, wait up- where ya going?”- with the sound of another and the bone-chilling revelation that every suspicion you had was grounded—

You don’t even turn around. You don’t reason with, stick up the bird to, or even hastily shout a fuck off, creep, over your shoulder because you’re not sure you have the luxury to.

By the sounds of it, he’s already close.

“Oh no you don’t. Come on, baby, just let me fuckin’ talk to you!”

-Closer and gaining still.

Fear rattles through you. It goes from zero to one hundred in a breath- yet how to breathe becomes a distant memory as your lungs still. The pulse in your throat drums, and suddenly your cardigan isn’t enough to save you from the ice eating you from the inside out- a cold sweat already forming at your nape.

You’re in such a panic you even forget about the spray in your pocket- the assortment of makeshift blades (keys, pens that grow knives when you click them) tucked in your purse. You have a small arsenal in there. Yet your mind spins.

“Stop-! I haven’t even been able to visit you lately because of that fucking asshole- since when you’d get a new boyfriend, baby? Do you really not care about me anymore? I just wanna talk!”

No. No no no- and new boyfriend? What-? All thought is dashed from your brain, his hollers becoming static. No, just ignore him, it doesn’t matter what nonsense he spouts to try and get you back- you won’t so much as glance behind you. After all he’s done to hurt and twist and outright disgrace you and your home, you don’t think he deserves it.

You break into a sprint. The concrete path pushes beneath you. You feel like you’re running in a dream, you’re so terrified- but you do run. You run like hell. You run like a girl.

You fiddle for the key in your purse, shaking as the door opens and you slam it behind you. His hand almost gets stuck in it, the knob jiggling loudly just a millisecond after you lock it.

As the reality of what could’ve been settles, you’re horrified. Cold in the face.

Sylus is there, leaping over to reach you. You wonder if the fury you catch in his wide ruby eyes is your imagination or reality; if he has the inexplicable knowing- based on your frazzled state or the noise- that something is terribly wrong.

“Sylus-“

You breathe with relief, but you don’t linger. You skitter past to the kitchen for a weapon- a real, proper one. A snarl rips from his throat as you leave him behind you, shouts sounding in the hallway behind your door. He barks at it. Ferocious and lupine. Surely not the make of a dog, of a pet meant for four walls and a roof— no, it’s a separate beast entirely.

Hostile, unpredictable, growly- dangerous. Oh, you’ve no choice but to hope all the labels on his package are true. That he’ll rip your ex-boyfriend a new one if he finds a way in.

Hyperventilating, limbs like jelly, you stagger over. In the short span of time it takes you to turn out the kitchen and down the corridor, you contemplate either opening the door and saying go boy, go— or simply staying back to ‘defend.’

You turn the corner and blanche.

Someone’s in your house- not the creeping, painfully familiar face, however, no- and he’s naked.

And then, everything you’d been working so hard to build with your froward pet over the months, the foundation of trust and patience, the hard-earned truce made between you both… As red eyes flash at you in warning, a hand taking the shaking knife from your own before he opens the door— it all shifts.

The bottom falls through.

The man opens the door, and perhaps you should be thankful that he takes the squabble outside because you’re sure that the blood spraying from your ex-boyfriend’s nose as it breaks would be impossible to scrub from your walls.

✦

“Relax,” he grouses with a tsk, “I’m not gonna bite.”

With split knuckles, a long leg crossed over the other where he sits on your couch, canines just a little too sharp as they catch in the lamplight- that’s hard to believe.

The blade he’d taken from your hands lies on the cushion beside him, and while you don’t make a grab for it, you think he sees the way you eye it- and the knife block in the kitchen- as you clench your fist to keep yourself from fainting while you gawk.

“Y-You’re not my dog.”

One of his brows lifts with amusement- or challenge, perhaps- as you deny the truth laid out before you. It’s impossible. Of course it’s impossible. He-

That can’t be Sylus.

For a moment you believe he’ll agree. Nod his head and say, no, I’m not your dog- I’m a person; because that’s certainly how he looks. But he doesn’t.

“I simply changed forms,” he explains. “Not who I am to you.”

With nothing else to say- no real rebuttal- you can only flounder. “N-No. You’re not Sylus.”

That pulls a soft huff from him, “Oh, kitten,” he grins a tenuous grin, “I’m wounded. And here I thought your kindness had no takebacks. You gave me that name, didn’t you? Sylus.” He sighs, a heavy, affected sound- like this is no more than a theater play to him as he adjusts on your sofa.

“I guess I’ll just have to settle for something else, then… Is Dragonfruit still up for grabs?”

D-Dragonfruit? How does he…

The way he looks at you then, with a lift of his chin as he angles his brow in provocation, a smirk only touching half his mouth- makes you freeze. The little hairs on your nape rise.

…Yet he’s just as scarred as your pet, with the silver hair and the gemstone eyes— massive, over six foot tall and muscular- and the air about him is… familiar. Too much to be comfortable with.

“Y-You’re not-“

Before you can splutter out another denial, he sighs and drops the bravado. He spares the weapon beside him a dismissive glance, stretching one arm across the back of the couch.

“Look, if you don’t believe me, that’s your choice. I won’t try to convince you,” he states, “I’ll just let my actions speak for themselves in the course of the next few days.”

…What? The next few days? Does he plan to stay? What- no. No no no! This mysterious, albeit helpful stranger (helpful in the way that he shook your persistent ex from your doorstep- through violent means, of course) can’t seriously think you’ll just let him crash at your place after feeding you such a ridiculous lie. He’s not your dog. He’s- he’s not some werewolf that can shapeshift on a whim- those only exist in fairytales and teenage romance novels.

Not in your tiny apartment.

“N-No. You- you’re crazy. You have to leave. You have to! I’ll- I’ll call the cops!”

Not-Sylus seems unfazed. Perhaps even a little offended at your bluffing: the vehemence is there. But the certainty is not.

Sure, the department wasn’t having your stalker drama- but an intrusion you’re actually witnessing like this can’t be easily ignored. If your crappy ex ends up snitching (you doubt it, what with his involvement)- all the more evidence, right?

He all but rolls his eyes, saying like it’s obvious, perhaps even with a mite of amusement, “I’m on your side, kitten. Don’t get all…” he looks you up and down, and you hate the flutter of your heart that’s more than just fearful— it’s self-conscious. “Hissy now.”

You punch out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re some stranger in my house! Look- I appreciate what you did, okay? I really do,” you start. You have to pause in between to take a breath because God knows you mean the words you say- you’re just inwardly afraid that the fix was only quick, not permanent, and with the sudden disappearance of your dog? Good luck protecting yourself now. Fuck, you don’t even know where he went- maybe he booked it out through the door when you were too distracted by the chaos to notice.

But then… why the hell would he leave? He- He’s never done that until now!

You rub your face and stare at him. The fear lends itself to a distant echo the more you realize you’re no longer in immediate danger. The guy is an unwelcome (and flashy, literally) intruder, yes, one your pooch would waste no time in maiming, but he’s not an active threat... You just have to figure out how to get him to leave.

“But my dog is a dog. Not a human. Not… you.” That you even have to say it out loud is ridiculous.

Even if, the longer you stare, the more you begin to believe it.

The scarred skin, the unmistakable, red eyes, and the somewhat bitten ears- his body weathered from what you suspect to be years of tussling in underground fights (evidently: winning them, not without the cost though)…

And that arrogant little air he carries with him, the one that first endeared you so.

Sylus, it all says.

But no. No- this is insane. Months of being stalked and living like a bug under a microscope have made you worse for wear. Impaired your judgment.

He draws you back to the present with his rumbling voice. “Your dog is more than just some animal,” he huffs. “Don’t tell me after all you’ve experienced with the stalker that you’re… frightened of this side of me? Really? Of all things?” His chuckle is as rich as it is short as he shakes his head.

Frightened? No… that becomes a more distant word. You’re more so stunned than anything else right now as the pieces start to fall in alignment with each other.

“Well, how about this,” he offers at your silence, waving his hand. “Let the week pass. By the end of it, you can decide for yourself if I’m real or truly just a figment of your imagination, sweetheart… You…” he lowers his gaze, then. Uncertain, almost.

“You can even decide if you want me to stay.”

He rubs nothing between his fingers, glancing up again with a pointed brow. “Deal?”

And if you say no? If, on the off chance you’re wrong and you kick him right back to the curb- to a sorry life of abandonment and bloody illegal brawls and God knows what else?

Your mouth wavers. “I- I don’t believe it.”

You do believe it. But it’s crazy.

He almost snorts. “You’d better start. But with that pest taken care of now… I think you’ll catch on quite fast,” he grins. “I’m here for you, kitten. Isn’t that what you wanted me for? Protection? Don’t tell me once I serve my use you’ll throw me out?” He laughs. But then he sighs right after, pursing his lips and looking down to his lap where he makes no effort to adjust the thin blanket that covers his nakedness as it nearly slips.

Headstrong. Cocksure. Bored with his surroundings in a way only mature folk really tend to be. The sage advice of that employee flashes in your mind— ‘he’s on the older side, so naturally he’s a bit grumpy, snippy’; really, you shouldn’t gasp at his temperament but with your current situation it’s a little hard not to when he clips out-

“So? Do we have a deal or not?”

And, well, what’s the harm in giving him your couch for one night?

Or several.

✦

A wintry chill pricks up your neck. Along your arms. Down your limbs where they bundle beneath the covers- to the tips of your toes as you respond with a shiver.

It rattles you in tandem with pleasure.

Upon waking, a few things blitz through your mind too fast to catch. For one, you’ve woken before your alarm- meaning you’ll be miserable in the minutes or hours of consciousness before it actually does go off. Secondly, the bed feels heavier.

…As do your bones.

Third— Sylus is not on the couch like he’s been for the past few months. He’s with you, in the comfort of your own bed, and as the wooly blanket slips down your upper half- leaving you to the cold air- it reveals to you a head between your thighs.

Pried open. One held up for a soft kiss while the other is pinned down— both wet. Sticky with- with you.

You gasp. “Sylus-“

You’ve no time to even rub the sleep from your eyes, big weathered hands anchoring you in place, because he lifts his head from his plate for a millisecond when you try to stop him and does something he hasn’t for months.

He snarls.

“Quiet. I’m eating.”

Protective. Territorial. That isn’t your pussy he eats from, lapping fervently at it as if it wasn’t just a number of hours ago you were hand-feeding him steak cubes from the cutting tray— no, it’s his.

He blocks your hand from interfering when it slips beneath the cover. So when that doesn’t work, you attempt to clamp your legs shut (quavering, you realize, on either side of his lupine face). All your efforts- bogged by sleep and the simple fact that he was leagues stronger- are for naught.

‘Good try’, his eyes seem to tease, though, glittering devilishly at you as his tongue flicks your clit. And then, when you hesitantly lie back and rest a hand in his hair- ‘that’s it, kitten.’

“Good girl,” he practically purrs.

He’s got a big appetite. You’ve known that.

Not as much as you do right now.

“Sylus, wait wait wait,” you moan. Life has thrown so much your way, especially in the past year or so, but you never went belly-up for it. You fought and resisted and squared up.

But right now, half of you almost wants to take him lying down- let him take his fill of you and then pin you down to take some more. Let him have his way with you, whatever that may entail.

But you- You have work tomorrow, and- and responsibilities—

“Hush,” he goes, voice muffled, having some preternatural ability to tell just what you’re thinking. He drifts a hand up your belly to splay over the valley of your breast. Your heart thumps beneath his callous palm like a metronome. Like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds or hours before you need to get up and get ready. Start a day in which you leave home, leave Sylus, and spend the rest of it longing to get back.

“Just take the day off.”

Grudgingly, you lie your head back. It’s… not a great idea, but as your rationale clouds, it seems like your best one.

“O-Okay.”

As a hot, long tongue stripes up your pussy and then his other hand, the one he used to comfort you in his own weird way, slinks downward again- the ceiling becomes too boring to bear.

So you glance down.

He’s handsome as all get out. Really, a couple months ago when he first appeared to you as a human, that was all you could think as days passed and you became grossly aware that you were sharing a confined space with a man. That you had been all along— and your prancing around the apartment half-naked was just one of the countless spectacles he’d seen.

He never pounced, though. Never lunged. Never bit you like a dog or hurt you like a man, even when every bit of his crude exterior screamed hazardous. He was a good boy. And you don’t care what form he takes; he took you as you are, didn’t he? When you were scared of your own shadow and a little snippy because of it. He let you hold the leash to his heart and snarled at anything that came too close- protected you against your piece of crap ex without prompting. Turned your fear into a mellow thing.

Warmth prods at your heart. Loosens your legs up where they clench around his head.

That day at the pound turns in your memory like a spindle.

You could’ve lost him. He- He could’ve been gone forever hadn’t you showed.

…But you did show. For the shitty time you’d been having, Sylus was your one silver lining. You were there for each other as a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold.

Your fingers tug gently on his scalp. Fruity shampoo breathes out from the blanket when you flip it over his head to allow him better access. Nerves eat you from the inside out. You’ve seen the looks, the hungering glances and felt the fingertips that linger in seemingly innocent touches:

Finally experiencing the culmination of his quiet longing is a whole different game, though.

Slurps ring out from your thighs. Your sighing, candied words- spoken in that ridiculous tone reserved only for him- make his ears perk atop his head.

“Good boy,” you breathe. “Y-You’re perfect.”

He rewards your obedience with a finger, thick and delightful. You gasp and arch your back into his hands- or, his one hand- a throaty moan rippling from his open mouth. The several little muscles in his face go lax when you coyly guide him deeper into your cunt and he melts.

“You taste delicious,” he whispers. “Sweet girl. I can-“ a deep, shivering inhale. Not from you- from him. “I can smell how much you want it…. You’re soaked.”

You mewl his name and almost reach full relaxation ‘til you glance back down and, with the covers off, spot where his other hand disappears. He’s naked- not in the boxer briefs and sweatpants you’d bid him goodnight in- and holds his fat, upright cock in his hand.

And his hand is big. Can dwarf every part of you with its hold.

His cock is somehow bigger.

Your heart leaps from your chest as he eyes you. He’s daunting. Every bit intimidating and then some- especially as you realize he won’t be just content with kitten licking your pussy, delicious as it is, and ending the intimate moment right afterward.

Dogs will always take the bowl if you slide them one: and then look to you later for seconds.

Point is- he’s insatiable.

You shiver as raunchy images flash in your brain— rough fingers pinning back your thighs as he rams inside you, setting a relentless pace as he bites and sucks and claims.

In your imagination, he doesn’t pull out when he comes.

…What really takes your breath is the engorged knot at the base of him, though, flushed an impatient red. Fattening by the second.

Cum- not pre- dribbles from the tip. For how long he’s been at this, you don’t know.

“Sylus-!” You mean to shriek it, but you can only manage a whispering scream. “Wait, wait, wait! what do you have in your hand-!“

A grin plays at his lips. Crooked, recalcitrant.

Challenging.

He’s hardly lucid, what with the delicious heat emanating from the slick lips he stuffs a second finger in, to acknowledge your question, so it’s surprising when he pulls back a centimeter to make an answer. Lust grips him tight— the need to fuck and take and mount— but that concerned, cute little bump in your brow is one he wants to smooth.

It’s the least he can do.

“Take a guess,” he sussurates, licking slowly up your inner thigh. Torturing you. “It’ll be in yours soon though, kitten, so get ready.”

Your eyes bulge from your skull.

His response: a low chuckle paired with a moan.

From that point on, even as he suckles expertly at your puffy clit, working you to a sniveling mess as you scream on his fingers, you’re focused entirely on what he’s doing below the blanket. He palms at himself- it’s all he can do to relieve the ache as he wrestles with his fraying self-control- massaging his balls and knot as they throb.

When he withdraws his digits from you, eyes drooping at the cream coating his knuckles before fluttering back at the taste of it— you lie back down and gulp.

Taking work off today is a good idea. You can already think of a few excuses. Not being able to walk properly is one of them. Being unable to get out of bed… Feeling so sore and feverish after he’s fucked you into pyrexia that you can’t even move an inch without being reminded of it.

He straightens. The cover slips off him entirely and he’s tall. Hulking. Painting you in his shadow- but the moonlight brings out the sheer hunger on his face, and you alight with warmth all over again.

You hope he’s primed you. You pray he’s done good to prepare you for what’s to come. Because oh, it’s coming. You know that.

“Now,” he heaves, dragging your legs either side of him as he kneels. You can tell he’s not well off, trying to muster a cocksure grin but failing as he perspires at the temple. “To the good part.”

You frown at that, almost- a pang of hurt weaving through the haze of desire and the smell of your musk on his fingers as he licks them clean again, ever thorough. He notes the flicker of your brow with a thoughtful pause and then a sigh, shaking his head as he grabs your jaw and angles his front down.

He chuckles, and you experience a singular flash of softness when he goes, “Oh, so sensitive… Don’t pout. I thoroughly enjoyed the opening too, kitten.”

You’re shaking. Insides molten with the pure want for him to just- to just do something already. There’s no opportunity to come down from your high because you feel his cock bob against your tummy as he sets himself up, and you burn anew.

Oh, you love him. You really do. He’s endearing in all the places he shouldn’t be. He’s charming and strong and willing to fight for you. So you don’t care if he’s a little old and slow on the uptake when it comes to new tricks- territorial and intimidating. He’s yours.

Eyes half open, you lift your hands to trail from his pecs to his firm, scarred belly. With a hiss, he trembles. Catches your wrists and tuts at you a second later, saying, “It’s better to keep those at your side. Once you get me going, I won’t be easy to stop.”

And you’d be half tempted to tease him some more, you know, but fuck if he isn’t massive. And fuck if you aren’t a little scared for it.

So you clutch the sheets as he drives himself inside with a grunt, and settle below him. You trust he’ll take care of you.

The entrance is, at first, surprisingly smooth, what with the natural lube you’ve provided for him. You let him lift your ass and bend you into a bow-shaped thing so he can hit deeper- and that’s when there’s some turbulence.

Your fingers curl into the cotton fabric. You brace and wait for the sting to subside. When you realize your eyes are clamped shut, though, you open them to see his expression and pall at the sight of him.

He’s gorgeous. Even when he looks like he’s ready to sneeze- brow scrunched and jaw slack as he dragoons himself inside, tormentingly slow- he’s nothing less than charming through your lens. But you’re thankful for the time he gives you to adjust because you need it.

Frankly, if he intends to put his knot inside— and he fucking won’t, there’s just no way— the walls of your pussy need the patience on his end.

For several seconds, Sylus does not breathe. You’re sizzling hot; when he eventually bottoms out, he can’t tell where he starts and you end- all he knows is that it’s gooey and warm and so fucking tight his balls throb. He deliquesces between your thighs. You welcome him, your body like a landing pad.

He supposes, right then, you’ve always been very hospitable.

Sylus curses. “Ngh, you’re tight... Loosen up,” he presses his forehead to yours and hisses out through his teeth. His eyes glitter like rhodolite in the dark. Reverent hands run down your side and clasp your hip. With your slick still coating his lips- tangy sweet, you find, as he presses them to yours- you realize he’s worshipful. The moonlight pouring in the blinds makes his silhouette glow a true blue.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, swiping over your bottom lip with his tongue. “Sweet, and soft. And a very good girl. I’ve got your back. You know that, don’t you?” Then, he draws his hips back and—

Your little bed judders. But the squeak that sounds out is yours as he ruts back inside and your labia brushes with his knot.

He won’t put it inside. He won’t. You’re sure of it. Mutts only do that when they’re mating. Mutts only do that. Sylus is- is so much more than that, and….

“Mmm,” an uncontrollable moan escapes you as he begins to move, like really move, and your eyes roll.

With some difficulty, he continues. “You’re naive. Plucking something like me from its cage. But I admire your bravery, kitten, so— f- uck— let me just show you, hm? How far my loyalty goes?”

Void of words, you nod.

The reindeer-patterned bedsheets aren’t enough. Your hands leave them in favor of Sylus, grasping around his back so tight your fingertips can make out the raised scars there. Planes of muscle flexing with divots with every thrust forward.

Offhandedly, he hits that sweet spot inside you. Your nails dig in by accident, and you say his name, stringing out the syllables in a delightful, dizzying mewl.

The floodgates- they burst open. Something in him gives.

He rams forward, abandoning his restraint altogether as his furry, salt-and-peppered tail whacks the mattress beneath you. That fat swell below his cock teases at your sweltering hole with every pump inside, and Sylus burrows his nose into your sweaty neck to whimper.

You’ve never heard such a noise escape him before. Huffs, grumbles, long, exaggerated sighs he makes whenever he finds a nice spot to lay down (usually on you), as if he pays the rent around here— but never that.

He whines, words strained, “Think you can take my knot? Hah… Nod your head for me, kitten- because I don’t think that I can stop it. I can’t wait any longer. I need you to…” he shudders, “take it.”

One moment you’re nervously glancing down to monitor him- and the next he’s nudging your head back with his nose before crashing his lips to yours. Your eyes widen when he flips you over, presses his chest to your back, and thrusts inside with vigor.

With the new angle, you stretch around him with a mewl, but every bone in your body locks when his hips slam flush to your ass and—

His knot pops inside with a gasp.

Throwing your hands to the strong ones he latches around your midriff, you wail. He clings to you like a limpet, his thighs trembling behind yours as he moans endlessly in your ear. Pointed teeth graze at the nape of your neck. He doesn’t bite- but amidst the warp of pain and a pleasure so intense it gives you vertigo, you distantly realize that he probably wants to.

He holds himself off. Breath hitching as his pelvis claps into you. Euphoria rolls across him, shocks him like a static bolt, every fiber of his being awash with it as his jaw falls open and he succumbs to you.

When he comes, it’s so hard his ears ring.

The walls of your pussy become less hospitable, then, clenching around him so tight as you both cum that for a moment, he can’t even say a word to ease you. He aches inside you- you can feel it. The girth of him twitching as your heat swallows him up with a spasm. His knot takes all thought from your brain. Stuffed inside your poor hole, tumid and veiny.

You feel him coalesce with you, too. Eagerly rutting his seed inside (ensuring it sticks, you realize when he drops a finger to your folds, checking for leakage), releasing rope after rope of hot cum as you go limp and take it.

You offer up a choked mewl when he kisses at your spine, brushing your hair aside just to access your neck where he licks and sucks. You trust Sylus not to get carried away with a bite if he did, to lose out to what he’s been taught.

Evidently, he doesn’t trust himself.

Your fingers dig into his thick, scarred forearm and he sighs behind you- a long, feeble sound. He’s barely able to keep himself draped over you- let alone support your own position beneath him, what with the soup you’ve made of his brain- but he manages.

Silence sprawls out as you attempt to steady your breaths. All that comes in between it is the occasional, wet squelch and the gusting inhales he takes at the column of your neck.

“It… hurts. So good…” he hisses after several beats. Only marginally brought back to reality, you flutter your eyes open and offer a yip back. “You’re doing so well, though… Just-“ He twitches inside you, then, throbbing like a second pulse point, his cock undulating in your walls, greedily taking up all the space.

“Fuck. Stay still, sweet girl,” he grunts, harebrained. His eyes crinkle and close. “I want it all inside. Don’t wanna see so much as a drop escape that perfect, tight pussy. Hah- you hear me?”

“Y-Yes,” you quiver back. Speaking is too difficult, you realize a second later, shoving your open mouth into the pillow as you pant for air.

Yet, you can’t help but ask with a slur, “Sylus- when- when will it be over?”

He moans, right in your ear. Goosebumps run up your naked body- all that clothes you.

“It’s too big,” you cry.

“No,” he quips. “It’s just right.”

As if on cue, your cunt gives another squeeze around him, milking him for all he’s worth. In response, he bows his forehead into the crook your shoulder and jaw make to bury a whine, and your mind spins when you register his balls, hanging fat against your ass, lurching. And oh, you’re spilling, you can feel it, beginning to ooze profusely from your puffy lips even as he keeps it plugged; really, even if Sylus wanted to separate from you (he doesn’t), he couldn’t.

There’s nothing in him that wants the distance. The idea of self-autonomy. The idea of independence. No- he’s all yours.

“We’ll wait it out,” he breathes. Coasting a hand along your belly in an effort to placate you. He knows it can’t be easy for you. But the world— that stupid, irksome ex-boyfriend of yours— needs to understand where your heart belongs. There’s no better way to show that than to demonstrate it first with the body.

And you—

(Bitten by his branding kiss, supple skin covered with the divots of his teeth, your belly full of his veritable seed-)

Well. Nobody should look at you, he decides in his spirit right then, and come to any other conclusion but the one that you’re his.

Unmistakably, irrevocably, his.

“It’ll subside soon enough,” he soothes with a peck to your throat, a surprisingly chaste move. He loops his arms around your waist again and carefully- mindful not to exacerbate the heady ache- maneuvers on his side, pulling your back to his front. He whispers at your ear, “So long as you don’t move or stir me up, we’ll be fine.”

Yet, a set of canines brush at your jugular, and again- there’s that inkling, this time in better clarity, that passes your conscience. You know he wants to bite. To mark. To claim. You know it and have the vague idea of all it entails, yet he… won’t.

With a frown, cursing as you turn ever so slightly and his fat knot shifts inside you, you hazily meet his eyes.

His are practically glowing, laying heavy on you. Charting across your face the moment they make contact, observing every brief flicker of your expression to try and assign a feeling— happiness, he hopes, contentedness— to it. His lashes totter and you burn with shame when a lewd suck rings between your legs, his cock wet all the way down to the slight plush of his abdomen.

You don’t mean to pout, “why won’t you-“

“Not yet, Kitten,” he scolds. Trying to swallow down a pit of self-consciousness in your throat, you murmur, “What, do you not want me?” Sylus huffs as if offended. His eyes drag from your lips to your searching eyes.

“Really, kitten? …What, should I give you an equally stupid answer?”

Oh, you’d tug his tail if you had the luxury of moving right now-

“Of course I want you. Can’t you tell?” He sighs, then, burrowing his nose into your neck almost to hide. His ears droop along his head, donning a relaxed look.

“So. Did you like it..?”

“Y-Yeah…” you murmur, carefully looping a hand back to stroke behind his fuzzy ears. “But, I just… I thought you’d really do it, I thought you’d really tie us together-“

He chuckles richly. “We’re already tied together, kitten,” peppering another kiss below your jaw, licking appreciatively at the sweat that clings to soft skin. “I’ve belonged to you for some time now, haven’t I?”

Your heart skips a beat when you realize he’s right.

“I- I guess so. Yeah.”

“So no more whining,” he lifts his chin to sample your lips, this time- his knot still throbbing white-hot and insistently inside you (albeit the ache is lessening)- eyes lidded as he conveys his affections.

“I’ll do it when we’re both ready. When…” He pauses to swallow.

In that short frame of time before he next speaks, you’re drawn to all his scarring. The faded ligature marks around his neck, the seemingly permanent gnashes along his body (which was a touch too lean before you familiarized him with good food). The nip taken from one of the ears sat atop his silvery, mussed locks. In that moment, you don’t see the misshapen, loveless thing he was beaten into— but rather the softness he worked to regain for you.

“When I know it’s manageable.”

If he feels unsure of himself- whether he can remain… civil, for lack of a better word, amidst the fervent haze that a mark would bring about— then you suppose you could wait for a bit longer.

“Okay,” you murmur with a faint, understanding smile, caressing one half of his face dotingly. You tilt your head slightly to plant a firm, benevolent kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“But you’ll always be a good boy to me, okay? I trust you. I told you before- you’re perfect-“ Rather roughly, he noses your head back into the pillow, readjusting his iron hold around you as he grumbles into your hair.

“…Hush. Now close your eyes and go back to bed. I’ll tell you when it’s ready to pull out.”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

#sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #love and deepspace smut #lads #lads smut #sylus x reader smut #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus qin #hybrid #syluses #‧₊ 🍰.┊𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 #i feel like i hate this #but at the same time…#hard to hate sylus knot idk

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gaywineauntsstuff · 7 months ago

Text

Broke: everyone fights over whose Batman’s favorite

Woke: everyone fights over whose Dicks favorite bc Dick isn’t an emotionally stunted loser (I shit talk Bruce so much but I love him, he’s just also a loser) and trying to get in the bats favor is like trying to catch sand in a sieve

————

Damian: obviously I’m Graysons favorite I was his Robin

Tim: dude I was the first Robin he trained and we still talk every day I am 100% the favorite

Steph: fuck you! You disappeared off the the face of the earth when he was Batman I was actually here I’m 100% the favorite everyone knows Wing loves me.

Jason: Dick willingly went to Gotham to spend time with me even when he was mad at Bruce. Has Dick ever been in Gotham when he was mad at Bruce for you guys? No? Didn’t think so?

Damian: ….

Steph:…

Tim: that’s because you sucked so much he thought you’d get blown up trying to have to bludhaven.

Jason: oi! Low blow, you can’t use a man’s death against him

Damian: shut up we’ve all died before

Steph: you literally said you were allowed to break Tim’s laptop bc you died b4

Jason: yeah it’s MY DEATH I can use it how I want

Tim: we really gonna call your 14yr old 4’7 self a man?

Cass: he helped me train when B rejected me I’m the favorite

Tim: you can’t be Dicks favorite you’re already Bab’s favorite those are the only 2 likable older members of the family. (They’ve decided Alfred doesn’t count since he’s legally not allowed to have favorites)

Dick: Duke is my favorite

Damian: what?

Tim: how?

Jason: this shit is rigged

Steph: What?? You barely spend time with him?

Duke who has been eating popcorn quietly this whole time:???

Dick: he doesnt steal my suit and murder people

Jason: …

Dick: or tell his friends I threatened to send him to Arkham when I told him to get therapy

Tim:…

Dick: or break into my apartment at 3am because he can’t communicate with his father

Damian:…

Dick: or make me believe he flatlined on the operating table

Steph: …

Dick: or tell me he can’t meet up for a bust because he’s too busy fighting Wonder Woman a hero we work with over text with no context and then go AWOL for 5 days

Cass:…

Dick: or overload his plate with 50 million things I will have to come in and help with

Everyone:

Steph: he started a cult tho??

Dick: was it before or after he was fostered bc if it was before it’s. Not. My. Problem.

Duke: I’m the favorite???

Dick: also I feel like if I died you’re the most likely to take over my duties and not go on a quest for vengeance or try to clone me or put me in the Lazarus pit.

Jason: ID NEVER PUT you in the Lazarus pit…. No comment on the rest tho.

Tim: ditto

Damian: meh you are superior to Todd and he’s relatively functional post the pit I don’t see the issue here.

Steph raising hand: I wouldn’t-

Dick: or help TIM do it

Steph lowering hand:

Dick: plus you have a parent so I don’t have to do 80% of the child rearing while giving Bruce credit

Duke still a little star stuck bc that’s nightwing: IM THE FAVORITE.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #comics #jason todd #tim drake #batfamily #damian wayne #duke thomas #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #red hood #red robin #Robin #black bat #spoiler #dicks favorite sibling is the one who gives him the least ulcers

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blueberrybirdsworld · 21 days ago

Text

Out of frame 1/4

Summary : Y/N and Lando Norris have been together for three years. Their relationship is real, steady, and full of quiet love but always behind the scenes. While fans know they’re a couple, Lando has never posted about her, avoids public displays of affection, and never mentions her in interviews. At first, Y/N understood. She believed it was about privacy, about protecting what they had. But over time, being constantly left out of frame has started to hurt.

Genre : angst, SMAU

Pairing : Lando Norris x reader

Faceclaim : @suanbeiii

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

@landonorris

Solid weekend for the team. Proud of the progress, still hungry for more.

@_user1 he really posted a whole carousel and not ONE pic of his gf who was literally trackside all weekend 😭

@_user2 not even a mention to Y/N… 🫠

@_user3 he posts more Oscar than his actual girlfriend 💀 priorities???

@_user4 if you didn’t already know they were together you’d 100% assume he’s single. this is just weird now.

@_user5 i get wanting privacy but this feels like pretending she’s not part of his life at all 🙃

@_user6 she looked so pretty this weekend too and nothing?? not even a tag? a repost?? okay then.

@_user7 lando i love you but if you post oscar one more time before your actual girlfriend... 😩

@_user8 she shows up to support him every time and he won’t even acknowledge her... she deserves someone proud to be with her tbh.

@_user9 THAT OVERCUT WAS SO SMOOTH. give this man a trophie 😤👏

@_user10 can we talk about how good he looked in that third pic omg 😮‍💨

@_user11 LANDO MASTERCLASS LET’S GOOOOO 🔥🔥🔥

@_user12 he’s so serious here omg bring back chaotic lando for a second pls

@your_username 📍Melbourne

Driver number 4 is kinda cute 💌

@_user1 the caption??? Y’ALL ARE SO LOWKEY BUT SO CUTE I’M CRYING 😭

@_user2 girl you’re soft-launching your boyfriend of 3 YEARS 😭😭

@_user3 that polaroid of lando casually thrown in there… I SEE YOU 👀

@_user4 ok but why is this post more romantic than anything he’s ever posted 🥲

@_user5 her at the track >>>>>

@_user6 driver number 4 better WAKE UP and post you too, queen.

@_user7 the way she supports him so quietly and consistently... deserves more recognition fr

@_user8 prettiest girl at the paddock 💘

@_user9 nah cause this aesthetic is everything

@_user10 “driver number 4 is kinda cute” is the most girlfriend thing i’ve ever read lmao

@landonorris

Recharge day after the race 🌊

@_user1 sir who is taking these pics 👀

@_user2 ok but you could’ve at least tagged your girlfriend if she’s behind the camera 🙃

@_user4 jumping into the ocean like he’s diving away from accountability

@_user5 you look happy but why does this give ‘i’m gonna ignore my gf again’ energy 😩

@_user6 lando pls post your gf for once we’re begging 😭

@_user7 this whole post is ✨aesthetic✨ and also suspiciously solo

@_user8 i know y/n is there i can FEEL it through the screen

@_user9 how are you real. like actually. it’s offensive at this point 😍🔥

@_user10 lando + blue water = serotonin

@your_username

Lost at sea but in love with it and maybe a little bit with him too @landonorris 💙

@_user1 oh she’s SERVING

@_user2 lando… baby… if you don’t want her I WILL 😌

@_user3 you’re literally the prettiest woman on this app i don’t understand how he keeps you hidden like a secret

@_user4 nah bc if i looked like this and he never posted me i’d simply disappear

@_user5 can lando even fight?? because you’re way too stunning for this level of invisibility 💅🏼

@_user6 he posts boats. she posts him. let that sink in.

@_user7 if she ever becomes single i’m standing outside her house with flowers

@_user8 the towel pic is giving summer movie ending energy 🥺

@_user9 not to be dramatic but he should be GRATEFUL to be in this post

Texts messages

Lando Got back to the hotel. You home safe?

Y/N Yeah. Landed an hour ago. Just got in

Lando You okay? You’ve been quiet since you left Did I do something?

Y/N Not really. I’m just tired

Lando Y/N. Don’t do that thing where you pretend you’re fine but I can feel it’s not

Y/N Well Maybe there’s something

Lando Talk to me

Y/N I don’t want to argue with you, Lando. Not over text

Lando Then let’s not argue. Just tell me what’s on your mind. Please

Y/N Okay It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid But I saw the comments under your post

Lando The boat post?

Y/N Yes And the one from Melbourne to Every single one saying “where’s your gf” or “why doesn’t he post her” or “does she even exist”…

Lando Y/N You know that stuff isn’t real It’s Instagram. Fans talk

Y/N Yeah, but I am real And I was there. I’m always there But if I wasn’t posting you, no one would even know we’re together

Lando What are you trying to say?

Y/N I’m saying it’s starting to feel like maybe I’m the only one proud to be with you That maybe… you don’t want me to be visible. That I’m not someone you want to show off

Lando That’s not fair You know I’m private. I always have been. I don’t need to prove anything to strangers online

Y/N This isn’t about strangers It’s about me.

Lando We are public. People know we’re together. It’s not like I’m hiding you

Y/N Then why does it feel like you are?

Lando Y/N…

Y/N You say you don’t want to share too much online. Okay. But you don’t even talk about me in interviews. You don’t look at me in the paddock. You walk ten steps ahead. You don’t touch me in public. You don’t even smile at me if cameras are around

Lando You’re exaggerating.

Y/N Am I?

Lando So what, you want me to start posting couple selfies and PDA every weekend just to make people shut up?

Y/N No. I want you to want to Not for them. For me

Lando You know I love you. Why does it matter how many people see it?

Y/N Because maybe I want to feel like you’re proud of me Of us

Lando I am proud of us. I just don’t show it the same way you do

Y/N Then maybe we want different things

Lando ...what did you just say?

Y/N Maybe I want more More than quiet acknowledgments and careful distance

Lando You’re making it sound like I don’t care about you

Y/N Oscar is private too But he still posts about Lily. He talks about her in interviews, he includes her He makes her feel seen without compromising anything

Lando Are you serious right now?

Lando You’re really bringing up Oscar in the middle of this?

Y/N It’s not about him. It’s about how he finds a way to love her loudly without putting her in the spotlight she didn’t ask for

Lando Unbelievable.

Lando So what, now I’m not just a bad boyfriend, I’m worse than Oscar too?

Y/N That’s not what I’m saying, Lando...

Lando No, that’s exactly what you’re saying You want a boyfriend like Oscar? Go be with Oscar.

Y/N Wow. That’s what you got from this?

Lando You’re throwing comparisons in my face and expecting me to stay calm?

Y/N I’m trying to make you understand! I want to feel valued, Lando. I want to feel like I’m part of your life, not just your locked-away secret. Is that so unreasonable?

Lando So because I don’t perform our relationship for strangers online, I don’t value you? Do you hear how that sounds?

Y/N You’re twisting my words

Lando You’re making this about other people. About Instagram

Y/N No, I’m making this about how you treat me About how I feel invisible when I’m next to you and the world’s watching

Lando I didn’t realize dating me came with a rulebook on public affection

Y/N It doesn’t But I thought being with me came with basic emotional effort

Lando I’m always there for you. I love you. I give you everything I can But it’s never enough, is it?

Y/N Not when you act like this

Lando Fine. Enjoy Monaco. I’ll see you whenever

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie, @bunnisplayground, @nina481, @reallifemermaidprincess, @cars-and-frogs, @delululeclerc, @txmhxllqnd, @lydia-demarek, @destinyg237, @rhaenyrasversion, @sarascabiosa, @readz4u, @tvdtw4ever, @mynameisangeloflife, @teti-menchon0604, @suns3treading, @op814kitty, @prettyboyroseberg, @willowsnook, @ariesandwolves, @clarksgf, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @pinklemonade34, @fat-meh, @tiaajosephin, @landosbabe4, @easy4, @jule239, @mercrussell, @skylandori, @ryuucollapse, @nickie-amore, @fairyjinn, @seonaw, @mattslovelygf, @strawberrylov-er, @linnygirl09, @dilflover44, @bell1a, @f1fantasys, @sillyfreakfanparty, @janonymus0, @taetae-armyyyyy, @charlesgirl16, @angstynasty

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- Heavy angst, hate sex, cum licking, oral (m and f recieiving) choking, smacking, say hi to Gojo, toxic relationship. WC this part- 6.5k

Will be six parts <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!

<<<Part Two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part four>>>

Part Three

“Fuck…” Suguru’s moaning as he’s filling you, and it’s just too much, too intimate, his silken long locks falling against your skin, his lips hovering over yours, one of your legs wrapped on his hip.

“Fuck you…” Is what you mutter back, as his cock fills you, hitting every damn spot all at once, you’re soaking him, hands gripping the blankets, trying to avoid that desire to grip him instead.

“You love it, don’t you?” You shake your head and he chuckles, slipping his hand down your tummy to toy with your clit, pressing it in circles, making you cum so damn easily. “No?”

“Who c-cares- mnh!” You’re screaming out as he overstimulates you, those lazy lidded violet eyes devouring your face, your nails grip his back on instinct, making him hiss in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He huffs again, as he feels your walls, so slick and tight, pulsating all around his veiny length. “Feel perfect-” He pauses himself, as you gasp, he’s burying his face in your neck again, fucking into you deeper and harder now, taking over all your senses while he hides his feelings.

That he’s obsessed with you should be obvious, it is obvious to fucking anyone besides you, clearly. You haven’t noticed the way he’s non stop in your presence, even as there’s a knocking on his door now, he scowls over at it, you release your nails and he glares at you.

“Put them back.” You scowl right back.

“You’re needed M-Master Geto- oh! Ah!” He’s slamming his cock deeper, using one arm to balance, as the other grabs you by your throat.

“Put them back, now. Are the sheets fucking you?”

“I like them better than y-you.”

“Annoying fucking brat…” He grumbles, shoving his cock so deep as the door knocks again. “What is it!?”

“Plans for Kiyoto, Lord Geto. We have been waiting for an hour.”

“I’m not done yet.” The wet sounds of his cock splitting you in half fill his chambers, as he chokes you harder, looking as you lose oxygen, big hand taking your pretty little neck more and more. “I’ll come later.”

“Kiyoto?” You murmur, and he squeezes harder, slamming his cock even deeper as the bed creaks with the force.

“You can still speak?” He raises an arrogant brow, you’re helpless as the fuzziness of him choking you makes you feel like you’re floating as he slams his cock so deep, tip pressing into your spongy cervix, you pulse all around him screaming silently in pleasure. “There, shut your stupid mouth.”

Suguru releases your throat, slamming his lips on yours, and you’re too weak to fight it, you let him kiss you, clinging to him desperately, and letting go for just one blissful moment. Where you inhale the scent of the sex filling the room, where you feel his taste buds on your tongue, and your tongue moves back, earning his soft little whimper that he hides.

You wish you could let go.

But how do you let go with a monster?

Suguru’s big hand comes to your thigh now, gripping it and shoving impossibly deeper as you whine out, your hips rolling for more. If there is ever a time the two of you aren’t declaring your hate or scowling, it’s when he’s fucking you into that bed, deeper and deeper, kissing you like he could love you. A mix of hatred, desire, and more and more feelings you both suffocate.

A month married to him, in his bed constantly, in whatever position he had you in, last night you’d been on top of him, as he’d laughed while you tried to ride him, but when you’d rolled your hips a certain way, you got that look. The look of whatever real Suguru Geto is inside of this shell, you got a glimpse of his tenderness when he came inside you.

Even now, it doesn’t feel all like hate, not when he slows, and he parts his lips, murmuring something that sounded like beautiful, but when you ever looked at him, asked him what he whispered, he’d shut down and flip you. He’d fuck you harder until you couldn’t remember whatever tender words may have spilled from lips that only produce hate.

You gasp now, looking up at him, when he entwines a hand in yours, it’s too much pressure in your tummy, it’s too intimate really, he shouldn’t fucking do this, and he knows it. “D-don’t…”

“Don’t hold your hand, but I can cum in you?” He whispers back, and you gulp now, nodding, while he shakes his head. “Rather me choke you again?”

“Yes.” He scoffs, slamming his lips back down again, rhythm slowing. “Stop kissing me, fuck…”

“No.” You turn your face and he exhales, biting your throat now, sinking fully in and throbbing inside you. “Fucking brat, I swear.”

“Shut up and finish- mnh!” Suguru leans up and shoves you in that mating press now, looking down at you as his hair falls loose and silky and long, brushing the backs of your thighs.

“Need my cum so bad, pathetic girl?”

“Monkey.” You finish, and he pauses, it’s been weeks since he’s said it during sex to you, shit a week since he said it at all. Any time someone else said it he’d end them, so people don’t talk that way anymore.

But the irony is it’s his creation, calling others that.

“You only shut up when I lick you, even dick apparently doesn’t work.” You flush at that, and he’s spitting down between your thighs now, obscene as he does it, running that rough thumb on your clit again as you scream out. “There we go, you can’t help yourself, feels too good.”

“Hate you. Hate you.” You’re whispering even as you shatter, milking his cock so that he cums right with you, groaning out loud, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Perfect little cunt, fuck…” He’s whispering, as he watches the creamy stripes already oozing from your little hole, moaning as he sees it, releasing your thighs. “You took so much, but you’re just pushing it all out.”

“There’s enough cum, you cum so much, ugh.” You grumble, voice breathy as he chuckles so cruelly, finally pulling out of you, dripping with your slick and his seed, sticky and glistening.

“Clean it up then.” He gets on his back now, yanking you until you’re on his face, you gasp then.

“Suguru…”

“Fuck…” He’s parting your drooling lips as you brace yourself on either side of him, feeling the tip of his tongue flick on your overstimulated clit. “Saying my name? Are you only sweet when I eat you out?”

“Shut it.” You lap at his sticky tip, he jerks in your hand, still mostly hard as he’s moaning against you, making you drip out more of his cum right on his lips, mixed with how slick you are.

“Pretty pussy so beat up.”

“Pretty, hmm?” You are met with him shoving up his cock deep, as you suck as much as you can of him, you’ve sucked him a few times now, times when you can’t help yourself.

You love to.

But you don’t want him having the satisfaction.

Though you’ve never done… this, sitting on his face while he laps you up, his huge hands on your hips, while his tongue scoops the cum pouring, only making you closer again. Your eyes roll back as you suck him deeper, losing yourself in the sensations again, it's hard to remember when his tongue devours you that he’s a mass murderer who ‘hates you’.

“Suguru…” You’re pulling back for a moment, pulling away as he flicks your clit again and again, hot breath right on your core, and he glares, yanking you back.

“Don’t run, now, let me get her ready for me again.” You just whine, pathetically, shaking your head.

“M’gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Now.” You sure won’t be taking his orders, but he sucks your tiny clit in his mouth, shoving his cock up with a thrust of his hips, and you are cumming, just like he fucking said. Your thighs shake on either side of his pretty face, as he licks you clean, his own cock fully hard and ready again in your throat. “Finally being good?”

“Mmm, never…” He laughs at you, tapping your hips as you shakily get off him, just to yank you on top, sliding his length between your puffy lips. Your hands brace on his chest, your flushed face so gorgeous he can’t think for a moment. “Must we… so frequently? Shouldn’t I take a test?”

Suguru pauses then.

“And if you are, will you stop your duties as my wife?” He asks, while you grind on him, and you’re exhaling, trying to focus.

“What’s Kyoto?”

“Jesus… just fuck me, don’t talk.”

“That’s all we do!”

“That’s all I enjoy to do with you, it’s the only time you’re not a mean little bitch.” You glare now, leaning back and slapping his cheek, he slaps you right back, while he drags you on his cock, and you scream in pleasure, tits right in his face bouncing with the motion. “There you go, can’t help yourself.”

“Hate you… what the…” He slaps your tits now, as you whine out in pleasure, he leans up to suck one in his mouth, moaning, cheeks hollowed as he does. “Tell me nothing, hmm?”

“It’s an attack, okay? Will you focus on riding dick, your technique is pathetic.” You scowl again, rolling your hips just so and grinding with him bottomed out, smirking as you elicit a whimper.

“Whining like a little bitch, the almighty Lord Geto.”

“God I hate you.” He whispers, pulling you by your hair and kissing you again, so brutal and bruising while he shoves his cock up inside you, skin sweaty and slick from the two of you.

“Attack for what?” You whisper, close to cumming again.

“A thousand curses, will take out every non-sorcerer… f-fuck you feel so… mmm… and anyone who stops me.” You pause at that, unmoving, looking at him in horror now.

“What!?” You earn his scowl, he flips you on the other side of the bed, on top again, a hand on your mouth, as you yank at it.

“I’m killing everyone in that city that’s human. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe, you’re with me.” Your parents live in Kyoto, he doesn’t even let you argue, sinking deeper, shaking his head.

“My parents-”

“Your parents, my parents, baby they’re all gonna die soon.” You’re in horror and shock as the door knocks again, and Suguru rolls violet eyes. “I said I’m busy!”

“Satoru Gojo is here, Lord Geto. You may want to… see this.” Suguru freezes over you.

“You’re gonna kill our parents!? Everyone!? Really!”

“Have I ever made it a secret?” He scoffs, pulling out of you and making you flush in embarrassment as he looks at your body. “I said I’d make an exception, why is that not enough? What more must I constantly do?”

“I don’t know- not be a murderer psycho!?” He’s scowling again as he gets dressed, and you hastily follow.

“I’ll be out there in just a moment.” He says gruffly and you’re following him out, earning him constantly glaring back at you. “I’ll knock you out with a sleeping curse if you don’t stop.”

“Thought I was supposed to go everywhere with you, as your wife, hmm?” His jaw locks as you two step outside, the brightness blinding for just a moment, as several of Suguru’s cult members are ready to fight Gojo, who’s just smirking, turning his attention to the two of you then.

“You paid me a visit, figured I’d return the favor buddy.” Satoru says with a big grin, and Suguru smirks so damn evil, while Satoru eyes you behind the veil of white thin material, face softening a bit. “Who’s the pretty girl, and why is she near you?”

“My wife, okay?” Satoru pauses, while Suguru steps closer, crossing his arms under his wide robes. “What’s it to you?”

Satoru pulls up his white wrapped blindfold, one cerulean eye meeting yours, swirling storms that you could never forget, looking back at Suguru, glossy lips turning up in a smirk. Suguru scowls right at him, when Satoru puts his hands in the pockets of his dark blue pants, tilting his silvery locks as he steps just a bit closer, his shoes glinting under the light with each step.

“A non-curse user married to the infamous Suguru Geto.” Gojo whistles now, walking closer until he’s right in front of you.

“Arranged marriage.” Suguru says, making you tense, feeling sick to your stomach, sure you know it’s true, but…

Perhaps you thought you were a little more?

“Ah, need me to take her off your hands?” Satoru taunts, grinning as he puts his blindfold back on, and you watch Suguru stiffen, before he glares.

“The fuck you say?”

“You hate humans, I’ll take her with me. Sure she’d prefer that over certain death, hmm?”

“You won’t take her any fucking where.”

“Why, it’s forced, right?” Satoru’s lilting voice was laced with sarcasm, as he looks right through Suguru, the way you do, the way Shoko had so casually the day he last saw her, the way only people…

People he loved did.

Fuck he can’t, he doesn’t, but as Satoru brushes your hair back gently and you eye him curiously, he grips one of Satoru’s wrists tightly, and he can feel the goddamn gaze behind that blindfold. Knowing, still caring somehow, though Suguru doesn’t deserve his care, nor does he deserve you.

If he loved you enough, he’d let you run the fuck away with Satoru, perhaps he could keep you safe, from the monster Suguru had become.

But he can’t stand the thought of you gone.

“Is it because she’s pregnant?”

“What!?” Suguru demands, and he lifts his blindfold again, eyeing you with those powerful six eyes that everyone knows the Gojo heir has, as you touch your tummy, looking at Satoru in shock.

“It’s brand new, won’t even show up on a test, but you are.” Satoru’s voice is just a little soft, you could feel how he felt horrible for you, but also you could still feel the love he had for his former best friend.

“You can see?” You murmur softly, as Suguru’s lips are parted.

“I can see a lot. I see you care about her, hmm?”

“You need to leave, to prepare for when I come.”

“Suguru!” His name on your lips makes him pause, as you look at him with tears now. “You can’t do it.”

“Oh I can’t hmm?” Suguru’s struggling to remember his motives, all he can think of is that there’s a fucking baby in you already.

“You can’t do this, what life will this baby even have?”

“A better one, when the scum is off this earth.”

“Including her?” Satoru says now, and Suguru’s jaw locks, violet eyes narrowed with his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the wind starts whipping around the three of you, as you feel Satoru’s immense energy. It’s far surpassing Suguru’s, intense to withhold as it surrounds him. “If you hate humans, you hate her.”

“That’s… she’s mine.”

“Your human?”

“She’s my…” He stands in front of you now, as Satoru grins, chuckling just a bit. “She’s my wife and has my heir, she won’t leave my fucking sight.”

Suguru never wants you to leave him, the thought makes his heart clench with fear, his very energy shifting, and Satoru picks up on it. “Oh so you’ll just kill her once she has your heir?”

“No I…”

“Why not, care about someone again?” Suguru bristles at that, at his friend seeing everything with one glance, Satoru has always been that way.

“So perceptive now, are you?”

Satoru’s jaw locks. “Now, yes, and you are blinded, can’t even see what’s here for you, can you?”

“Satoru fuckin leave, go prepare now because I sure the fuck am coming prepared to kill everyone in that city, including you.” Suguru stomps away, as Satoru sighs, stepping closer to you.

“Are you alright here?” He murmurs, you nod then, carefully. “I can get you out of here.”

“You what?” You blink just a bit, and Suguru is shouting your name, glaring at the two of you.

“You love him too, don’t you?” Satoru’s question makes you question yourself, your own heart, things you’re trying to shove back, to avoid. But it’s as if Satoru knows you better than yourself and almost like you can feel the love he himself has, the care radiating under his powerful energy.

“No! God no…” You falter, and Satoru exhales, brushing the backs of his fingers across your cheek, and you feel Suguru summon a curse right around you, making you gasp.

“Back the fuck off.” Suguru speaks through gritted teeth, Satoru just smirks, waving off Suguru’s curse like it’s nothing.

“You see them.”

“Yes, I can, some… family trait.” You murmur softly.

“Hmm, interesting. I can still take you away, just say the word.”

You hate Suguru.

Suguru is a psycho murderer.

Right?

“Or…”

“Or?” Suguru’s now got his people around him, his cult, his minions, making you sick as they gather, as if they’re putting a dent in Satoru Gojo.

“Or… you try to stop him.”

“Me!? He fucking hates me, he thinks-”

“Nah. He certainly doesn’t hate you, in fact… maybe only you can get through to him.” He rubs the back of his neck, as Suguru and his group start stepping forward. “I’ve tried, I’m… fucking tired.”

“If you don’t get through, how can I?” Your voice is hoarse, Satoru leans down a bit, voice dropping to a murmur.

“He feels something. Try to… just buy me some time could you?” You gulp now, as you touch your stomach again.

“I’ll try, Gojo.” He smiles at you then, the smile you remember has changed he's… sadder now.

“You have something on here…” He brushes long fingers against your neck, making you tremble a bit at the contact, then blush. You'd only been with Suguru and it wasn't either of your choices, so you wonder if it's just … someone else touching you? Or if it's his intense energy, but soon you notice a little piece of paper that he's placed there. “In case you need me.”

You nod, tucking it in your robes. “Thank you…”

“Good luck with… all of it.” He disappears with one more sad look at Suguru, who's now scowling as he walks over to you. “Go to your room until I say you can leave.”

“What!?”

“Now you’ll be seen as a weakness.” He says, in disgust at the thought, looking at you furiously.

“Why, when you don’t care?” Your words make him furious, how can you not know what he feels?

“I do care, that’s the problem.”

“Oh, I’m a problem!?”

“Go. Now.” You shake your head at him, and he grabs you by your chin, squeezing it tightly. “Go to your room for the rest of the night, I will not repeat myself, or would you like your parents dead earlier?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You say through your sobs that are rising in your throat, and Suguru pauses, guilt flashing as he sees what he’s already done to you, and he hasn’t even started.

“Now.” You rush off as he stares, and the others gather, he aches to follow you when you slam that door, when he hears your cries, but he does nothing. “Someone lock her doors from the inside out.”

******

It’s been all night you’ve been stuck in this goddamn room, and of course you have no phone in here, Suguru lets you use a cell phone to speak to your parents but he never really lets you keep it in your room. Finally, it’s gotta be late, you’ve lost sense of time but the locked windows of your room show it’s dark out, the door opens with a resounding click.

You peer and see him then, furious at you as he stands there, and you step up to the doorway. “Locking me away like this is beauty and the beast, huh?”

“Might as well be, isn’t that what we are?” He raises a brow, and you gulp now, shaking your head.

“No, you’re beautiful. On the outside.” You watch Suguru pause now, face softening a bit. “If I’m pregnant, shouldn’t I be allowed to eat?”

“I didn’t say… you think…”

“You’ve locked me in here for hours.” Your tummy growls as if on cue, and Suguru feels like…

God worse than shit.

His best friend had just been there, and now the girl he’s fallen for is starving and apparently… pregnant. If Gojo is to be believed, there’s life inside of you already, and what sort of life would it be when you’re living in constant terror from him? But Suguru is too far down this path, as much as he will make an exception for you, he will not do that for anyone else.

His family and yours included, eventually.

“So you know, your parents are on vacation.” You exhale in relief, but then instantly feel guilty.

What about everyone else?

“Can I have a phone to talk to them, please?”

He shrugs then. “Sure, I’ll have one brought to you along with dinner.”

“So I have to stay here!?”

“Until you calm down.” He shuts the door again as you glare at it, and he’s resting his head on the other side, despising himself.

“Suguru, really!?”

It’s of no use. With dinner and a phone in a little bit, you devour it, realizing then that you are starving, you’d fucked the man all morning and are apparently… carrying his baby, and haven’t eaten anything. The door opens and Suguru stands there once again, crossing his arms and looking down at you.

“You can come to my chambers if you behave.” You’ll behave alright.

Knowing it to be your chance to attempt to get to him in any way, you agree. As you walk down the halls, seeing his daughters giggling as if everything’s fine, Suguru pats them on the head as he pauses, and when they leave, he looks at you. “So if they were human, what would you do?”

“I asked you to behave.”

“Did you think of Gojo and-”

“Forget who you belong to?” He says angrily, hands on your shoulders now, heat burning you through the silk of your robes.

“It’s just all arranged, yeah?” Your retort leaves him breathless, sputtering, as he catches you by your wrist.

“It was arranged, but let me explain-”

“Nothing you say makes any fucking sense!” You're yanking your arm, now he is dragging you to his room, you're stumbling helplessly, following his quick pace until he's slammed the door behind you.

“You are mine, all mine.” He whispers, huge hands on your face, as you bite a trembling lip.

“Suguru, you can’t do this. Please.”

“Stop telling me what I can or can’t do. Why, think I’m not powerful enough?” He slams a hand on one side of your head, making you tense.

“Is that all this is, who’s more powerful? Does this mean nothing?” You take that hand putting it on your stomach now, as he gulps audibly, his already tired eyes even more heavy.

“The heir.”

“The baby, say it.”

“Baby…” He murmurs, almost in wonder for a moment, before stepping back, as you feel your heart shattering. “You’ll stay here, you’ll be safe. I’ll have guards if they come to retaliate.”

“Oh, so it’s all fine then, you’re gonna what, kill other kids!? Pregnant women!? Does that make you feel good, Suguru, so fucking strong?” You shove at him now, and his dark brows lower, jaw clenched.

“You will be safe.”

“For how long, until your hatred overtakes you, and you remember what I am. Say it, huh?” He’s squeezing your wrists, shoving you off him, pinning them above your head as he leans down, the ticking of the clock on his wall matching the rhythm of your pounding heart.

Tick tick tick.

How long until your heart stops beating?

“You’re… more.” He wants to say it then, that he loves you, a human… that he’s never felt like this, even with the love of his friends.

Nothing like it.

You scoff right at him. “Tiny, pathetic, useless, but you’re different, okay? I know that you are.”

“I’m a human. Say it. Say monkey, isn’t that what I am?” He glares at you now, shaking his head, and you laugh then, a mean little laugh. “Can’t now, why?”

“You’re… I… just shut the fuck up.” He slams his lips down on your brutally, your arms are going numb until he releases them, his tongue diving inside your mouth, drinking every bit of you up as you whine softly. “I need you.”

You blink a bit, disoriented at his words, as he picks you up in his arms, and you cling to him, tears filling your eyes. “Why? I’m pregnant now, remember?”

“You think Gojo knows?”

“He knows a lot. He knows you.” Suguru glares now, your back against that wall, as his hands grip your ass, and you feel his hard body against you. “He loves you.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” He’s kissing you again, as you exhale, trying to catch a breath, trying to control the storm inside of you. “No one should love me.” He murmurs against your neck, teeth sinking in, making you cling to him, nails scraping against the silk of his robes.

“Why n-not? You’re not t-too far-”

“Baby, I’m no good.” He whispers now, in your ear, and you know it’s true, you know that Suguru Geto is a fucking monster.

But you also know one thing too.

You’re in love with him.

In love with a monster who wants to end the world.

“Then why do you need me? Huh? Go get one of your girls, I’m pregnant already.” Suguru scowls as he leans back, and you bite back a moan as he moves against your hot, eager cunt.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Shut up.”

“No! We won’t.” You wriggle until you’re out of his hold, and heading for his door, he presses your front against it, hand on yours on that knob. “Let me go. You said once I got pregnant, you were done. Remember?”

Suguru said a lot, a lot of bullshit.

He called you disgusting, useless, trash, a monkey… but as you look at him the way you do, you’re breaking him, in between making his desire to take you grow by every fucking minute. He cups your face, brushing aside your tears, you always cried over him, didn’t you? He’s not worth them, he’s not worth any of you, yet he’s so obsessed and greedy he still takes.

“We don’t have to stop. We both enjoy this, don’t I make you feel good?” He’s slipping his fingers, moaning when he finds your soaked panties under your pretty yukata, and you clench your teeth, eyes rolling back. “We can give this a chance, having this baby.”

“A chance?” You whisper, in between hiccups of pleasure as he keeps teasing your clit over and over, and you find yourself arching against him.

“To be together. I know they’ll be special- like you.”

“I am a fucking human.”

“No.” He’s sinking two fingers in your slutty little hole, as those sticky walls grip his thick digits so good, as he loses himself in your scent, your feel, the sound of you, every fucking bit. “You’re special, you’re more, I know it.”

“Mnh… I hate you…” You cry out as he pumps more and more, thighs shaking while he works you so damn well.

“I know you hate me. You should… go ahead, cum f’me.”

“Call me it.”

“No.”

“Useless, pathetic- weak, worthless-”

“Beautiful.”

“No!” You’re fighting it, turning in his hold, as he sucks your juices off his fingers, getting on his knees for you, and you’re faltering again. “Don’t call me that.”

“You are beautiful. Do you not know?”

“Shut up. I hate you more for it.” Your tears stream further down your face, as he tries to grip you by the hips, to drag you closer to him. “You act as if you could ever love me.”

Suguru blinks then, pressing a kiss on your tummy for a moment, making you both pause. “We can have a perfect world.”

“It’s a massacre, it’s murder, it’s not perfect! Killing everyone that doesn’t meet your standards? Suguru please just stop. Stop it.”

He scowls now, standing tall, looming right over you, your breath catches in your throat in fear. “I will not stop my plans. Gojo got you this fucked up from one meeting? Maybe you did like him then.”

You scoff now. “Your audacity is batshit. How can you be jealous of your arranged wife who is a human, that you said you didn’t wanna touch!?”

“I… you know I didn’t…”

“I don’t know shit, Suguru Geto. Except Gojo loves you, and fuck, I see glimpses of how and why. I do.” You cup his face then, he jerks back for a moment, like your touch is fire, as you cup the other side of his face. “If you love Gojo, and if you care for me one little bit, you won’t.”

“You assume I love anyone.” His words, lies, tear you apart.

You blink more tears, as Suguru lies right to your face. “You care.”

“So what!? That’s why you’ll be safe.”

“And Gojo? And those damn kids from Jujutsu high, and the people of Kyoto, children, you’ll kill them?”

“Just go. You don’t want to now that you’re pregnant, right? Leave.”

“It’s not that, it’s that I want to know if anything good is fucking inside you, Suguru please just this one thing. Just don’t attack.”

His jaw sets as he pulls your hands off, and they fall to your sides, while he glares down at you. “I’ll give him another week to prepare, you can let him know since you’re suddenly his friend, hmm?”

“He loves you. Don’t you see it? Can’t you still be worthy of it? Of… my love?” You whisper, after he’s turned away, and Suguru laughs darkly.

“You could never love me.”

“How do you know- if you’d just try, Suguru!”

“I’ll give it a week. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“Is there any room for me or this baby in whatever heart you have left, with all that hatred inside you?” You whisper, he turns to open his mouth, but you storm out of his room, sobbing as you rush down the halls, leaving him alone, picturing his friend brushing your hair back.

Gojo would be better for you, wouldn’t he?

But Suguru doesn’t think he could ever let you go, even when he brings you to tears, even when he himself feels moisture that hasn’t been there in so long, memories and images of happiness filling him. Of you and a baby, maybe they look pretty like their mom, maybe they’re fiery like you, maybe they’re…

Human.

He sinks to the ground then, head falling against the door.

What if they’re human?

You’re collapsing on your bed, in tears, trying to pull yourself together, finally getting the number Satoru had conveniently hidden in your collar, pulling it out and dialing it, sniffling. “Hello?”

“I tried… I tried but…”

“Shh, hey, calm down.” Satoru sits up in his empty home, hearing your cries, some odd ache to comfort you filling him.

If anyone knows what it’s like to love Suguru Geto, despite all his flaws and his intentions, it’s Satoru Gojo. But also… you seemed so fragile, so small in a home that all hated you. And yet he saw it in your eyes, pretty eyes, full of fear but also feelings, and then he knew that you care for him, as much as Suguru cared for you, so very clear to Satoru.

“It’s okay… it’s not all on you.” Satoru says, his voice comforting your aching heart now.

“He said another week he would give you.” Satoru sighs then, nodding.

“A week is better, more time to prepare.”

“I tried, he doesn’t… he won’t…”

“I know. You love him.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Neither should I, but I remember my best friend, the only friend I had.” Your heart tears apart for the person Suguru used to be, and now for Satoru, who you barely know, but you feel it, the longing, the loneliness.

“I don’t know if he’s in there. I don’t know if I can face him if he does it.”

“You bought me time, sweetheart, thank you okay? You can only do so much right now.” He says softly, and you take a shaky breath.

“I see why you two were close, you’re kind of comforting.”

“Comforting hmm, I don’t think I was back then.” Satoru remembers being a little shithead, conceited, cocky. “I don’t think I was there when he needed me, when he needed someone. I can’t forgive myself for it.”

“You should.” You lay on your back now, staring up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling, as the warmth of the phone touches your cheek. “What are you gonna do, Gojo?”

“Try to save everyone, of course. Should be a piece of cake.” You snort then, as he laughs a bit, deterring the situation some. “I meant it, I can get you away, somewhere safe.”

“Why would you?”

“You didn’t choose this. You’re just… a girl. You know?”

“Pregnant, really?”

“Mmm, yeah I’m pretty sure. It’s a certain energy I can pick up on, like more than one in your body.”

“I should go, I’ll be fine, I don't think he’d hurt me… in any way other than… hurting others.” He hurts you in his own ways, sure, but Suguru doesn’t realize how much he’s hurting you, pushing you away. You shouldn’t care, you should have known he was this way, but something in you loves him, against it all.

Do you love the monster or the man still inside?

“All right, if you’re sure.” Satoru says softly, cutting your thoughts off as you blink a bit.

“Satoru, will you… kill him if you had to?” He hears the fear, the thoughts he has in his own mind clearly connecting with you, the last thing Satoru ever wanted to do was kill him.

“I’d try everything else first, but I have to defend the kids, and everyone else… if it comes to it, I… shit I don’t wanna think of it.” You hear his emotions, sighing as you come to understand his meaning.

“Is there any of him left?” You ask softly, Satoru takes off his blindfold, pouring himself a drink and leaning against the counter, pressing you against his ear.

“You want to know if the Suguru you met that day is in there?”

“What was he… like, even?”

Satoru laughs a bit, without humor. “He was a little shit.”

“Well, he’s still that.” You both laugh softly, shit it’s the first time you can recall laughing since you’ve been here almost.

“He was arrogant, but he was kind, he thought we should help the weak, I argued with him. He stopped me from… doing some rash things. We lost a few people, and he grew distant, I wish I noticed… or…”

“He wanted to protect the weak?”

“Yes.” You can’t fathom that it's the same man, sighing a bit now, shifting in the bed as sleep starts to tug at you somehow, though you’re scared to even close your eyes.

“You really loved him.”

“I still do.” He clears his throat a bit now, Satoru’s never really shared how he felt until you, a stranger on a phone, married to his former friend, but for some reason he feels you understand more than anyone. Your voice alone, speaking the words, are something he didn’t know he craved.

“I will keep trying if I can, but I can’t face him right now.”

“Just get some rest, if you need me I’ll get you away. But I hope… I hope he’s still him, somewhere.”

“Me too. Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night.” You hang up, leaving his mind whirling, thinking of your pretty forlorn face, wishing he could save you, wishing he could save his damn best friend, and everyone else. “An extra week, huh…”

You curl up and pass out shortly after, in nightmare after nightmare, hating Suguru, loving Suguru, images of Satoru in there too, of them killing each other, hurting each other. Villages burning, a city in ruins, Suguru’s curses everywhere, so vivid and real you’re tossing and turning, unable to wake up, even as you scream out loud in your sleep.

Suguru is in your chambers then, watching what he’s done, sitting by your side as you toss and turn, gently touching your forehead, sweaty from your exertions. “Shh, Princess…”

Princess.

Why’d he say that?

Why couldn’t he call you it- monkey- anymore?

“Suguru don’t… I love you…” He pauses at your words, on your lips incoherent, tears glistening in the dark room. “Don’t… you’re hurting me… never loved me…”

“I do, fuck I do.” He leans down, holding you, he’s never spent the night with you, of course you wouldn’t allow it, but he’s never even held you.

What’s he done, but fuck you good and try to make you forget how horrible he truly is? As you calm now, blinking a bit, in and out of a daze. “Suguru?” You whisper, fear in your pretty eyes, mixed with more.

He caused this.

How could you even have a baby like this?

“Go to sleep, you were screaming so loud everyone is up.” He huffs, lying to you now, and you pull back.

“I’m fine. Just go, sorry I was having nightmares.” He pulls you back against him now, his strong chest, warmth you ache to sink against, all while you try to picture a world in which he wasn’t evil, wasn’t insane, wasn’t bloodthirsty. A world where he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl, cuddling in bed.

It’s a lovely dream, but you know it’s fake.

“Get to sleep.” His soft order is met with him pulling you even closer, covering you both with a blanket, and for one moment, you let yourself believe the lie, that Suguru could be himself again. That he’d give up this insanity for you.

A beautiful lie, really.

You nestle against him, wrapping an arm around his waist, burying your tired face against his neck, and Suguru feels himself breaking in two. Part of him wants to just… go back to how things were, to be good for you, but there’s still such hatred that’s eaten at him for years. Consuming him.

He knows hatred will win.

But as he holds the girl he loves, he hopes she’ll forgive him for what he's about to do.

More angst cominggg- this will be 6 parts loves <3

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heesimp · 8 months ago

Note

saw your post and comment about heehoon getting off together bc they both want yn…that is so hot I want to read that. Please

I want to read that too 😋 I would love to write more of this type of content so please let me know if you’d read it!

warnings: heehoon jerk off together, mentions of wanting to fuck reader and suck on her tits and pussy, mentions of dry humping, blowjob mention, exchange of fantasies, subtle mxm context (they sit next to each other on the couch and watch each other jerk off), mentions of a sex toy, implied share use of a toy at the end.

send in your hard thoughts x

“Dude, are you hard?!”

Heeseung looks over to his friend who sits beside him on the couch in nothing but sweatpants and a flimsy t-shirt. The two of them have sat in silence for the past few minutes or so after their friends left their apartment with you in tow, giving them each a hug goodbye as Jay and Jake undoubtedly drove you back to your apartment.

Still, your perfume lingers in the air. It smells somewhere between vanilla and peaches.

The TV has something playing in the background but neither of them can say they’ve been paying much attention to it. Sunghoon’s been scrolling on Instagram for the past few minutes when Heeseung happened to look over at him to ask what he wanted to watch when he saw the slight tent in his roommate’s pants.

Sunghoon looks up, unashamed. He turns his phone towards the elder. “Can you blame me? Look at her?”

Heeseung squints and sees your profile. “Have you been hard this entire time?”

“Since she walked in. Don’t tell me you don’t feel that way either. I always see you looking at her ass when she walks in front of you.”

Heeseung blushes for a moment. “I can’t help it. Her ass is phenomenal and she always wears those short shorts when she comes over.” Sunghoon groans.

“Yeah, the ones where you can see her panties, right? I swear she’s doing it on purpose.”

“Have you two ever…”

Sunghoon nods his head. “Once.” He bites his lip at the memory. “It was late, really late. She was sobering up after getting drunk at our place a few months ago when you were visiting your cousin. I told her she could sleep over since I was too tired to drive and the guys already left.

“What happened next?”

“I insisted she take my bed while I take the couch but she put up a pretty good fight. She insisted I sleep there with her since it’s my apartment and we’re both adults. We ended up dry fucking, man. She woke me up the middle of the night and I think she was having a wet dream or something.”

“Fuck, really?”

Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. Her leg was over mine and she got so shy when she realized we were both awake but I was so hard since her pussy kept rubbing over me.”

“But you two didn’t fuck?”

He groans. “Wish we did but it felt too good to stop. I took off my sweats and tried to get us naked but Y/N kept rubbing herself on me like she was desperate. That shit was so hot. That was the only time I get to see her cum, too. She let me on top of her and I had to pretend that I was fucking her balls deep since our clothes were still on.”

Heeseung curses and pictures himself in this exact position, running a hand through his hair to tug at his roots. “Were her panties wet?”

“Soaked. I could feel her through my boxers.”

“Y/N is too hot for her own good.” Heeseung watches Sunghoon’s cock jump as he readjusts his position on the couch.

“Wish I could touch her, you know? Knowing she he’s really wet turns me on. Shit.”

Heeseung can’t help but think about it. He’s seen you in swimming suits before and it doesn’t take much for him to imagine what you’d look like without them on. His cock stirs in his pants when he thinks about you gushing for him. Something about Sunghoon’s words turn him on too.

“What else do you want to do to her?” Heeseung finds himself asking his friend.

He laugh. “What don’t I want to do to her? I want to suck on her tits, man. It kills me that she doesn’t wear a bra when she comes over because I can see everything, especially when it’s a little cold. Perky nipples and everything.”

“Fuck,” Heeseung moans. “What else?”

“I’d want to eat her cute little pussy too. Fucks me up every time she flashes us with her shorts…I want to know what she feels like on my tongue.”

Heeseung laughs incredulously. “Damn, Hoon. You’re making me hard.” Sunghoon returns the laughter and doesn’t shy away from looking at his friend’s lap. Heeseung is almost as hard as he is but that seems to make him harder. “Is it bad that I want to cum inside of her?”

“No, fuck no it’s not.” Sunghoon bucks his hips involuntarily against his sweats. “Had a dream the other night that Y/N let me fuck her and creamed all over me…Goddamn, it felt so real.”

“Sometimes I think about her when I watch stuff,” Heeseung admits. “It’s better when I can’t see the girl’s face. I pretend it’s Y/N and it always makes me cum the hardest.”

“Me too. I love those twitter videos more than anything. Sometimes I pretend she’s the one who sent it to me.” Sunghoon brings a hand to his hardened cock and palms himself without a care in the world, even if Heeseung’s eyes grow wide at the movement. “C’mon, man. You can’t say you aren’t turned on.”

“Jesus. You jump right into it, huh?”

Sunghoon scoffs. “Don’t sit there and pretend you haven’t gotten off to me bringing girls home. I hear you in your bedroom, you know.” Heeseung laughs as if to challenge him.

“And you can’t say that you haven’t gotten off when I bring girls back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sunghoon looks back at your Instagram profile and curses under his breath, gripping his cock above the fabric. Heeseung pulls his phone out to look at you too.

“Her tits are incredible,” Heeseung moans as he brings his hand to palm himself. “I wanna put my dick between them and fuck her like that.”

“Cum all over her tits,” Sunghoon adds. “I’d kill to see her on her knees for me like that. Her tits are my weakness.” Palming himself isn’t nearly enough. “Fuck it.”

Heeseung loses his breath when Sunghoon pulls his hard dick out of his pants. “Woah, now? Don’t you want to like, go to your room or something?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my cock before. You don’t usually get this shy when we share a girl.”

Fair point. Heeseung pulls his dick out too.

For a minute, the soft sound of the TV permeates throughout the room as the two of them look at your photos and slowly stroke themselves opposite each other on the couch. Heeseung hears Sunghoon grunt under his breath and hold back a deeper moans when his thumb swipes over his swollen slit that drools precum.

Heeseung’s cock is just as hard. His fingers grip himself with fervor and for just a moment, he pretends it’s your hand that’s stroking him. He imagines the look you’d give him if you were on your knees before him and throws his head back when he moans.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon asks as he twists his wrist to stroke himself better. “Fuck, thinking about her always gets me so hard.”

“Want her mouth on me,” Heeseung says in a broken moan. “Her cute little mouth is always telling us off but fuuuuck. She should use it on me instead.”

Sunghoon squeezes himself at the base and flickers his gaze from his phone to his too to watch even more precum ooze out of himself. Thinking about you like this gets always makes him incredibly hard and wet. He can only imagine what would happen if he got the chance to fuck you.

The sounds of their arousal splashing against their cocks as their hand moves up and down is the loudest sound in the room and neither Heeseung nor Sunghoon can for certain say they aren’t turned on by it. In the past, they’ve had their fair share of threesomes with girls they’ve met at parties and past hookups who’ve expressed interest in fucking two guys at the same time, but never have they ever found themselves in a predicament like this.

You are the common denominator within their friend group. Somehow, senior year of university brought the give of you together after an assigned group project in one of your classes that forced you all to spend a good majority of your time together, slaving away for a good grade. The semester ended but the five of you still continued to see each other, project be damned.

Both of them are pretty sure Jay and Jake probably have a thing for you too. You’re hot, smart, and really funny. You’re everything any guy could ever want and it’s always a shame that you’ve preferred to keep to yourself instead of become as promiscuous as the four of them, even if they don’t judge you for it.

Sunghoon speeds up his hand and throws his phone down on the couch to cup his balls. “Ah, damn. I’m close.”

“Me too,” Heeseung breathes. He puts his phone down too and mimics Sunghoon by squeezing his own balls, pretending it was you getting him off. “You wanna cum together?”

“Goddamn,” Sunghoon says with a laugh as his arm flexes. “Why do I find that really hot?”

“Imagine if Y/N was here with us.” Heeseung licks his lips and zeroes in on Sunghoon’s cock, imagining as it disappears inside of your pussy. “Imagine if we both came in her.”

“Always wanted to try that double penetration shit. Shame we didn’t do that before.”

“Soon,” Heeseung promises. “Y/N looks like the kind of girl who’d be into that. If she let you dry hump her then I’ll bet she’s let us fuck her pussy at the same time.”

The logic doesn’t make any sense but neither of them care. They squeeze themselves until choked moans become louder than the TV in front of them.

Heeseung cums with white tall spurts ruining the hem of his shirt but the wet stain doesn’t bother him. At the same time, Sunghoon spills out much slower, his cum seeping out of himself like a water fountain as it dribbles onto his hand. Heeseung watches his friend continue rubbing himself while he spreads his cum down his cock and onto his balls.

Both of them regain their breathes and feel strangely turned on by the events that just transpired. Heeseung finds himself wondering what Sunghoon would look like when he’s got you underneath him. He tugs at his cock at the thought and surprised himself when he doesn’t soften up.

Sunghoon smiles wickedly at Heeseung when he sees his friend’s cock twitching, his own dick remaining hard. “Wanna go again?”

“You want to jerk off again?”

He nods and stands up from the couch. Sunghoon pulls his pants up just comfortably enough until they rest below his ballsack and walks to his room, leaving a dumbfounded Heeseung sitting on the couch in his soiled boxers until he Sunghoon comes back out with a toy that looks a lot like a woman’s torso, ass, and pussy.

“Fuck, you actually own one of those things?!”

Sunghoon nods. “I use it when I get off to porn. Don’t you have anything?”

“Just a fleshlight but I’ve always wondered what those feel like.”

“Kinda like the real thing by more rubbery and smooth, obviously.” Sunghoon holds it up for Heeseung. “Since you mentioned double penetration…”

Heeseung cuts him off. “Let’s practice.”

***

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #heeseung smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #sunghoon x reader #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #hard thought #heehoon

2K notes · View notes

cheftsunoda · 9 days ago

Note

Hi!!! I adore your poly works so much so i was wondering if you could do a russell x reader x albon smau fic. But HEAR ME OUT george and reader have been dating for years (ever since he was in williams) and obvs are super close with alex to the point the three of them often playfully flirt and stuff, so everyone suspects something’s going on. And alex is obviously in love with both of them but reader and george think he’s just joking around until one day they realize alex loves them and they kinda love him too. So anyway they end up happily dating and everyone in the paddock is relieved lol.

about time — gr63 + aa23

smau + blurbs

george russell x !nurse norris reader x alex albon

yn and george have rarely existed as just a duo—because wherever they go, alex is never far behind. their so called third wheel, their partner in crime, their constant. what alex has kept hidden for years, though, are the deep feelings he harbors for both of them. he has convinced himself it’s better that way—safer to stay quiet, to play the role of the best friend, the flirty buffer. what he doesn’t know is that yn and george feel the same. and what none of them realize… is that everyone else already knows.

fc : jazmynmakenna on ig and used some pics of carms and lily

(a/n) : tyyyy for the love! such a cute idea <3

—

yn_norris

liked by georgerussell63, alexalbon, lando & 5,002,007 others.

yn_norris : photo dump from an overworked, underpaid and tired nurse. (ft the necessary alex pic bc if i post a dump without him everyone assumes we had a friendship break up)

tagged : alexalbon and georgerussell63

—

view 175,090 other comments.

alexalbon : i’m flattered to be included but i’d like to campaign for more than one photo next time. i’m the fan favorite.

liked by yn_norris and georgerussell63

↳ yn_norris : i can make a whole account dedicated to you with how many pictures are in my alex folder

liked by alexalbon

↳ alexalbon : honestly that account might be more popular than your own

liked by yn_norris

↳ yn_norris : sassy king apocalypse has taken over the paddock. first, george, then lando and now you. sigh.

liked by georgerussell63, alexalbon and lando

↳ georgerussell63 : i prefer the term witty

liked by yn_norris, alexalbon and lando

username00 : yn can both of your boyfriends fight?? i want you

liked by yn_norris

↳ yn_norris : george may be all posh and brit but he is ready to swing at anytime

liked by georgerussell63 and alexalbon

↳ yn_norris : and alex, my sweet little cinnamon bun, will quite literally not even kill a spider bc “it has a family too”

liked by georgerussell63 and alexalbon

↳ alexalbon : @/username00 i may not fight but i will send someone to your location that can.

liked by georgerussell63 and yn_norris

↳ username1 : the way she didn’t deny Alex was her boyfriend??? and instead called him a little cinnamon bun

lando : stop posting your aesthetic cute pictures from work. show the real you. like the gremlin I saw at the nurses station at 3 am when I brought you coffee. cheeto fingers, eye bags and all.

liked by yn_norris

↳ georgerussell63 : ive seen that 3am gremlin. id still risk it all. even with the cheeto dust

liked by yn_norris

↳ lando : you need help

↳ alexalbon : the cutest gremlin ive ever seen

liked by yn_norris

↳ lando : and you need even more help.

username0 : ynnnnnn. fave 2019 rookie??? (yes I am asking you to pick between your brother and both of your men)

liked by yn_norris

↳ yn_norris : legally i am required to say lando.

liked by georgerussell63, alexalbon and lando

↳ lando : damn right. i’ve got baby photos and blackmail material. tread carefully.

↳ yn_norris : but emotionally? alex. physically? george.

liked by alexalbon

↳ georgerussell63 : I won a category but I still feel like I lost

liked by yn_norris

↳ yn_norris : you won where it counts, baby. don’t be greedy.

liked by georgerussell63

↳ lando : BARF. just say you love me the most and move on.

liked by yn_norris

franciscagomes : omg. cough. im sick. i need this smokin hot nurse to come take care of me rn😷🤭

liked by yn_norris

↳ yn_norris : omw! got something that’ll fix you right up bae 😈

liked by franciscagomes

↳ pierregasly : HEY. you alr have two boyfriends. take your advice and don’t be greedy, norris.

↳ yn_norris : mind your business baldpine #1

liked by lando

—

your pov

The fluorescent lights above me flickered one too many times as I signed out for the night. My back ached, my scrubs were wrinkled, and I was 97% sure there was dry formula in my hair. Twelve hours, four codes, and one toddler with a death grip on my ponytail later—I was done.

The sliding doors whooshed open and cold night air wrapped around me like a sigh. I blinked up at the parking lot, expecting the usual quiet walk to my car and maybe crying to a podcast on the way home.

But instead, parked in front of the hospital like they owned the place, were my boys.

George was leaning against the passenger side of Alex’s car, arms crossed and hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for the last ten minutes. Alex was in the driver’s seat, scrolling through something on his phone with the windows down and music playing softly—my playlist.

“Hi!” George called when he spotted me, that big, exhausted grin of his lighting up his face. “We come bearing gifts.”

I didn’t even have the energy to be dramatic about it. I just dropped my bag to the ground and walked straight into George’s arms.

“I hate everyone except you two,” I mumbled into his chest.

“We know,” he laughed, kissing the top of my head. “That’s why we came prepared.”

Alex popped the trunk and hopped out. “Ta-da,” he said, gesturing like a magician.

Inside were— my favorite snacks including the weird gummy worms only one petrol station sells, an iced coffee from that place across town, a cozy hoodie I’d stolen from George and they’d returned freshly washed, and a heated blanket plugged into the car. There was even a tiny bottle of micellar water and cotton pads.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.

George grabbed my bag. Alex opened the car door for me. And without even asking, they handed me the coffee, tucked me into the blanket, and turned on the seat heater.

“You saved lives today,” Alex said, buckling me in. “We’re just here to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

George climbed into the backseat beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Rest now, nurse. You’re off duty.”

I didn’t say anything—I just reached for both their hands. And for the first time that day, I breathed. The coffee cup was half-empty in my hand, my head resting on George’s shoulder, his thumb gently tracing circles over the back of my hand. Alex was humming along to the music—quiet, low, and warm—and I only caught snippets of their conversation as the car rolled through the near-empty streets.

At some point, my eyes fluttered shut. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but exhaustion settled into my bones like sand and the rhythm of their voices was just too soothing. The next thing I registered was the car slowing to a stop and the faint click of a seatbelt unbuckling. I think I mumbled something. Or tried to.

“Shh,” Alex whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “You’re okay, love. Go back to sleep.”

Then I felt it—his arms slipping beneath me, lifting me like I weighed nothing. The scent of his hoodie, the soft rumble of his voice close to my ear. George’s footsteps behind us. A door opening. Warmth. Home. I stirred slightly as he carried me up the stairs, but Alex just held me tighter.

“You guys didn’t have to come,” I slurred, barely audible.

George was ahead of us, flipping on the bedroom light, already pulling the covers back. “Shut up and let us love you,” he said with a sleepy smile.

Alex laid me down gently, brushing a kiss over my forehead before sitting on the edge of the bed to untie my shoes. George helped me out of my hoodie and pulled the blankets up around me with such tenderness I nearly cried.

“Come here,” I mumbled, blindly reaching for them.

They didn’t need asking twice. George slid in on my left, Alex on my right, both of them instantly folding around me like I was the center of the universe. My head rested on George’s chest, one hand tangled in Alex’s shirt. I felt safe. Held. Home.

“I’ve got early rounds tomorrow,” I murmured.

“We’ll set an alarm,” George whispered, already half-asleep.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Alex added, rubbing my back in slow, lazy strokes.

I smiled, finally letting the last of the tension leave my body. Surrounded by the two people I loved most in the world, I fell asleep again—warm, safe, and exactly where I belonged.

—

lando’s pov

It wasn’t that unusual not to hear from YN right after a shift—sometimes she passed out for hours, sometimes she called me mid-breakfast while still wearing her scrubs and eating cereal out of a measuring cup. But tonight… something felt off. I waited. And waited. No texts. No memes. No updates. Nothing.So naturally, I panicked like any good brother would. I used the spare key she pretends she doesn’t know I have.

Her apartment was dark and quiet, which would normally be comforting, except every light in the hallway was off and I could hear soft music playing from her bedroom. I dropped the takeout I brought for her on the kitchen counter, tiptoed toward the door, and slowly pushed it open—And froze.

There, tangled in her sheets, were both George and Alex. George was sitting up against the headboard, shirtless, with YN tucked into his side. Alex was lying on her other side, awake and half-asleep, scrolling on his phone like this was completely normal.

Which, apparently, it was. They both looked up at me. Paused. I stared. Blinked. Held up a hand.

“Before I start yelling… is she alive?”

George gave me a sleepy smile. “Sleeping like a log.”

Alex waved, entirely too casual. “She fell asleep in the car. Long shift. We brought her back. I carried her in.”

I stared harder. “Why are you here?”

“I live ten minutes away and she fell asleep on me,” Alex said, shrugging. “And drooled on me. So it felt serious.”

“I’m going to kill you both,” I muttered.

Then YN stirred a little in her sleep, nuzzling closer to George, one of her hands fisting the fabric of Alex’s shirt like she was anchoring herself to him. And the worst part? They both melted. Alex immediately adjusted the blanket over her shoulder. George smoothed her hair back like it was instinct.

“Okay, never mind. I’m not gonna kill you,” I said, voice flat. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Alex gave me a look. “You brought food?”

I turned on my heel. “I’m leaving. This is cursed.”

George called after me, barely containing his laughter. “We’ll tell her you came for a visit, yeah?”

“Shut up!” I yelled from the hallway. “And I want the Tupperware back!”

—

your pov

The first thing I felt was warmth. Not just from the blankets cocooned around me, or the sun peeking through the curtains, but from the steady rise and fall of George’s chest beneath my cheek. His arm was draped around my waist like a seatbelt, keeping me tucked against him, his breath slow and even against my hair. For a second, I let myself stay there—limbs tangled, heart full, sleep still clinging to the edges of my mind. Then the scent hit me. Coffee. Toast. Something vaguely maple-y. Something… Alex. I smiled before my eyes even opened fully.

George stirred behind me, shifting just enough to press a kiss to my shoulder. “Mmm. Morning, baby.”

“Morning,” I mumbled, voice still scratchy. “Alex is cooking.”

There was a pause. Then George snorted, pulling me closer again. “God help us.”

I giggled into his chest, burying my face against his skin. “He’s gotten better.”

“He literally burned oatmeal.”

“I like my oatmeal crispy,” I murmured, and he groaned.

“You’re just biased because he worships you.”

From the kitchen, we could hear Alex singing softly under his breath. I recognized the song—it was the one I always played when I was making breakfast for them. My heart tugged a little at the sound. Everything about this moment felt so us.

George yawned. “We can go help him in a minute.”

“I’m comfy.”

“I’m not moving.”

“I might love you.”

He kissed my hair. “Might?”

Another clatter from the kitchen. A muffled “I’m fine!” from Alex.

I smiled again. “Okay, do you want him to burn the place down?”

George groaned, finally stretching. “Fine. But only because I think he’s trying to make the fancy eggs you like and I don’t trust him with a whisk.”

He rolled out of bed with all the grace of a sleepy golden retriever and offered me his hand. I took it, still wrapped in blankets, and shuffled behind him like a burrito.

We walked into the kitchen to find Alex—shirt rumpled, hair a mess—very proudly plating something that resembled food.

“I made breakfast!” he announced, holding up a pan with far too much confidence.

“You made smoke,” George replied, rubbing at his eyes.

“I made love in breakfast form,” Alex argued.

I leaned into the doorframe and smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. “You guys are idiots.”

Alex turned and grinned at me. “But we’re your idiots.”

God help me—I really was in love with both of them.

—

I was halfway through my very questionably cooked eggs, still wearing George’s t-shirt and wrapped in the blanket I’d dragged from the bed, when I realized both of them were staring at me. Too intently.

“What?” I asked through a mouthful. “Do I have egg on my face?”

“No,” George said slowly, smiling like he was up to something.

Alex was practically vibrating with excitement. “You know how you thought you had a shift today?”

I froze. “Yeah…”

George reached behind him and grabbed my phone, placing it on the table like it was a trap. “Check your schedule.”

I raised an eyebrow, swiped it open, and blinked.

[Schedule updated – you are no longer working today.]

“What. Did. You. Do.”

Alex gasped. “Excuse you. We did something wonderful.”

George took my plate before I could throw it. “We may or may not have called in a favor with the scheduling supervisor. Something about ‘nurse burnout statistics.’”

I stared at them.

“You manipulated hospital management?”

George shrugged. “You work so hard, love. You never take a real break. You needed one.”

“And we figured,” Alex added, holding up a duffel bag triumphantly, “why waste a perfectly good day off when we can turn it into an adventure?”

I blinked, still processing.

“We have a full itinerary,” George said proudly. “Spa appointment at noon, your favorite bakery at 1:30, then we’re going to the zoo, then driving out of the city for a little bit.”

Alex wiggled his brows. “Picnic included. And a disposable camera. And George packed the card game you always cheat at.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried not to cry into the blanket.

“You canceled my shift and planned a perfect day because…?”

“Because we love you, dummy,” Alex said, stepping forward to kiss my forehead.

“Because you take care of everyone else all the time,” George added, arms wrapping around my waist from behind. “Now it’s our turn.”

I just stood there, overwhelmed, two sets of arms wrapped around me, my face squished between kisses and soft fabric.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Let me go shower and find something cute to wear.”

Alex lit up. “Matching outfits???”

“Let’s not push it,” I muttered, hiding a smile as I slipped out of their arms.

Still—the warmth stayed. A day off. My boys. A field of sunflowers. I couldn’t have dreamed up anything better.

—

I’ve never been so clean and so judged at the same time. George was wearing a robe like it was custom-tailored to his soul—relaxed, smug, prince energy radiating off him like mist from the eucalyptus steam room. Alex, on the other hand, had immediately broken every spa rule known to man. He wore the complimentary slippers with socks, brought in his own music, and accidentally drank my infused water because “it tastes better than the one they gave him.”

“You’re impossible,” I said as he handed me back my empty lemon-cucumber glass.

“You love me,” he shot back, laying across the lounge chair next to mine like a sleepy golden retriever.

George leaned over from his own chair and brushed a kiss to my temple. “To be fair, yours had more cucumbers than his did.”

“Traitor.”

George smiled. “You’re glowing. I’d do anything to see you this relaxed.”

I sank deeper into the plush chair, wrapped in my robe, skin still warm from the facial I just got, and sighed. “Okay, maybe I’m not mad about this surprise.”

“Maybe?” Alex gasped dramatically. “Ma’am, you moaned during your massage.”

“I did not—”

“You definitely did,” George nodded. “I was on the next table. Thought I’d have to ask them to stop before it became inappropriate.”

“I hate both of you.”

“Lies,” they said in unison, and I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing.

Alex shifted closer and gently placed a hand over mine, a rare moment of calm settling in. “You really needed this, YN.”

George’s thumb ran along my wrist. “You give so much. You forget to keep anything for yourself.”

I blinked.

“I’m okay, you know?” I whispered. “Just tired.”

“And we’re here,” George said softly. “Always.”

“We’re gonna spoil the hell out of you today,” Alex added, grinning. “And then maybe make George pay for dinner later. Princesses shouldn’t have to open her wallet.”

I laughed again and squeezed both their hands.

There was something so safe in the way they looked at me—in the way they’d planned all this just to see me breathe. For once, I wasn’t rushing. I wasn’t on edge or bracing for a night shift or another exhausting day. I was just… here. Loved. At peace.

“Okay,” I said, straightening up with mock determination. “What’s next? Body wrap? More lemon water? Can someone fan me like a Roman empress?”

Alex was already reaching for the complimentary spa fan. “Your wish, my queen.”

George rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. And so was I.

—

The spa glow hadn’t even worn off yet by the time we pulled up to my favorite little corner bakery—the one with the pastel pink awning, the windows always fogged from fresh bread, and the dangerously addictive almond croissants.

Alex practically fell out of the car when he spotted the sign. “This is the one, right? The croissants that made you cry that one time?”

“Stop bringing that up,” I groaned.

George looked at me in the rearview mirror with the same smug grin he always wore when he was about to say something unserious. “I’ve never seen a pastry make someone so emotional.”

“That’s because you’ve never had one warmed up with the honey drizzle,” I mumbled, grabbing my bag and sliding out of the car. “Life-changing.”

Alex gasped. “You didn’t tell me there was a drizzle.”

Inside, it smelled like sugar and cinnamon and heaven itself. The display case was full of the usual suspects—flaky croissants, jam-filled danishes, tiny cakes decorated like art. There was an elderly French woman working behind the counter, and the moment she saw me, her face lit up.

“Ah! La petite infirmière!” she said cheerfully.

“I come here on my breaks sometimes,” I explained as she greeted me with a warm smile. “And maybe… after night shifts. And sometimes before them.”

“She knows your order by heart,” Alex whispered, eyes wide. “You’re a legend.”

George leaned in. “She also called you her favorite. I’m a little offended.”

Ten minutes later, we walked out with a box stacked full of pastries, coffee orders in hand, and Alex already halfway through his second croissant.

“Okay, but this is ridiculous,” he said through a mouthful. “There’s almond paste. There’s honey. There’s flake. I would die for this.”

“You said that about my pancakes last week,” George muttered.

“Yeah, well, this is sexier.”

I laughed, leaning into George’s side as we walked. “He’s not wrong.”

George huffed dramatically, stealing a sip of my coffee. “Unbelievable. I take you to a spa, plan a whole day, and you betray me for a baked good.”

“You’ll live.”

Alex nudged George from the other side. “Don’t worry, Georgie. You’re my favorite man. The croissant’s my favorite object. Very different categories.”

“You two are so stupid,” I said, grinning like an idiot as we reached the car again. “But like. The cute kind of stupid.”

They both smiled at me then—this warm, knowing, love-drunk kind of look that made me want to pause time.

“I really don’t deserve either of you,” I said softly, not even meaning to say it out loud.

George pulled me into a hug, holding me against him. “You deserve the world.”

“And a third croissant,” Alex added, already holding it out for me like an offering.

God help me—I think I loved them more than I loved that pastry. And that was saying something.

—

I don’t know whose idea it was to go to the zoo—probably Alex’s, considering the way he literally sprinted toward the penguin enclosure like it was a life or death mission.

“THEY’RE WEARING TUXEDOS,” he yelled, pointing through the glass. “LOOK AT THEM. DAPPER LITTLE MEN.”

George and I stood behind him, coffees in hand, trying not to laugh.

“He’s been like this since the flamingos,” George whispered to me. “He thinks they’re judging him.”

“They are judging him,” I said, sipping my drink. “They saw his sock-and-sandal combo and had thoughts.”

George leaned over and kissed the side of my head. “You look happy.”

“I am happy,” I admitted quietly. “You two are insane, but you’re my kind of insane.”

Alex finally turned around, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “Guys. I need a penguin. For my apartment.”

“No,” George and I said at the same time.

“But what if we built a little arctic section in the bathtub—”

“Absolutely not,” I cut in. “You almost flooded the kitchen trying to recreate Finding Nemo last month. Remember?”

Alex pouted but took my hand as we walked to the next exhibit. He held it casually, like he always had—but something in me shifted when George reached out and linked his fingers with mine on the other side. Like… I was surrounded. Anchored. Loved. The three of us squeezed together in front of the red panda habitat, leaning on the railing, giggling at the way one of them tried to climb the fence and immediately fell asleep mid-effort.

“It’s giving YN post-night shift,” Alex said solemnly.

“It’s giving you after two mimosas,” George replied.

They bickered. I leaned my head on George’s shoulder. Alex looped his arm around my back. We stood like that for a long moment—quiet, warm, weirdly soft in the middle of a zoo full of screaming children and overpriced hot dogs.

“Okay, serious question,” I said. “If we were zoo animals, what would we be?”

George hummed. “You’d be a koala. Cute, sleepy, deceptively mean when provoked.”

I nodded. “That’s fair.”

Alex grinned. “George is a flamingo.”

George turned to him, affronted. “Excuse me?”

“Tall. Pink. A little awkward but elegant when he tries.”

George opened his mouth. Closed it. “Okay. Not… the worst comparison.”

I tilted my head at Alex. “And you?”

“Golden retriever that got into the lemur enclosure.”

We laughed so hard we nearly doubled over. The sun was starting to dip by the time we reached the exit, arms linked, bellies full of zoo snacks and heads full of ridiculous animal facts. Alex was still insisting we could totally adopt a capybara. George glanced over at me while Alex argued with a souvenir stand employee about whether or not the penguin plushies were “accurate to scale.”

“You’re glowing again,” he murmured.

“Must be the zoo energy,” I whispered back. “Or maybe just the fact that I’m with the two best boys in the world.”

George smiled so softly it made my heart ache. Alex returned, holding three matching penguin keychains.

“For the polycule,” he said with a wink.

I didn’t correct him.

—

The drive out of the city was full of bad singing, shared snacks, and the kind of laughter that made your cheeks hurt. By the time we pulled into the clearing—golden fields stretching into forever, sunflowers towering in gentle rows—I couldn’t even remember what stress felt like. It was quiet. Warm. The kind of place that smelled like wildflowers and safety.

“This is so unfair,” I whispered as I stepped out of the car, sunlight immediately spilling across my skin. “You two are trying to make me cry.”

George gave me a small smile, arms crossed, leaning against the car door like a smug Pinterest boyfriend. “We’re succeeding.”

Alex popped the trunk with a flourish. “We brought everything. Blanket, food, Polaroid, a Bluetooth speaker, and George’s deeply questionable taste in picnic wine.”

“It’s French,” George muttered, already spreading the blanket out in the soft grass.

“It’s gross,” Alex replied.

“Both of you shut up and feed me,” I said, flopping onto the blanket and pulling off my shoes with a groan. “I’m the exhausted nurse princess today. I get fed grapes and kissed every ten minutes.”

Alex plopped down beside me and held out a strawberry. “Your wish, my love.”

George sat on my other side and kissed my cheek. “Only ten minutes?”

I didn’t even bother hiding my grin as I leaned against George, resting my legs across Alex’s lap. They unpacked everything while I just… existed. Sun warming my face. Birds chirping somewhere in the trees. Their soft voices filling the silence.

They made me a little plate. Fed me things I didn’t ask for. Wiped the honey off my chin. Snapped Polaroids when I wasn’t looking.

“You know this feels fake, right?” I mumbled eventually, eyes half-lidded behind my sunglasses. “Like I’m dreaming.”

George rested his chin on my shoulder. “It’s very real.”

Alex tossed a grape into his own mouth and missed. “And very underappreciated. I did all the logistics.”

“You picked the playlist,” George said.

“Exactly.”

I laughed, rolling onto my side so I could look at both of them. “Thank you. For all of this.”

Alex shrugged like it was no big deal. ”It’s nice to remind you that you’re allowed to be taken care of too.”

At some point, I curled up with my head in George’s lap, Alex tracing soft patterns along my ankle. We watched the clouds drift lazily by. Took turns naming them. George said one looked like a giraffe; Alex said it looked like Esteban in a hat.

“I could stay here forever,” I whispered.

Neither of them said anything. They didn’t have to. Alex gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, and George leaned down to kiss my temple. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

—

The apartment was quiet. Not silent exactly—just quiet in that strange way it always was after Alex left. Like the energy had shifted. Like something warm had been packed up and carried out with him. George was curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves pushed over his knuckles, eyes following the end credits of a movie neither of us had really paid attention to. I sat cross-legged on the other end, wearing one of his sweatshirts and sipping lukewarm tea, my brain loud despite the calm.

“I miss him,” I said quietly, without meaning to.

George looked over at me. Not surprised. Just… waiting.

“I mean,” I started again, voice barely above a whisper, “he left twenty minutes ago. That’s ridiculous.”

George didn’t tease me. He just gave me that soft little smile that always made me feel seen. “It’s not ridiculous.”

I set my tea down and tucked my legs under myself, heart in my throat. “Do you ever feel like… we’ve just kind of been pretending we don’t know?”

George blinked slowly, brows furrowed. “Know what?”

I met his eyes. My hands were shaking.

“That we love him.”

The air shifted. George didn’t move for a long moment. He just stared at me like he was re-learning the shape of me, the sound of my voice, the weight of the truth between us.

Then, so quietly I almost missed it, he said, “Yeah.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

He nodded, eyes still fixed on me. “Yeah. I think… I’ve been in love with him for longer than I knew what to call it. And I’ve been scared that saying it out loud would break this… us.”

“It won’t,” I said immediately, because it couldn’t. “It won’t, George.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “He’s you, in a different shape. He’s home. Just like you are.”

I felt my eyes well up and didn’t bother hiding it. “I thought I was crazy for feeling it. For wanting… more. Wanting the two of you, together.”

George got up and crossed the room, sinking to the floor in front of me. He rested his head in my lap, eyes closed, and reached for my hand.

“You’re not crazy,” he murmured. “You’re just brave.”

I kissed the top of his head, held him there like maybe that would keep everything from slipping.

“I don’t know what happens next,” I whispered.

George looked up at me, and for the first time all day, he looked a little less tired.

“We tell him,” he said. “We tell him everything.”

I nodded, a tear slipping down my cheek.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s tell him.”

—

alex’s pov

I shouldn’t have left. I told them I was tired, which wasn’t a lie—but it wasn’t the reason either. I left because if I stayed a second longer, I was going to say something I couldn’t take back. Something real. Something like, I’m in love with both of you and I don’t know how to stop. The apartment feels cold. Quiet. Too still without YN’s soft laughter echoing down the hallway or George’s voice calling me an idiot when I steal the last pastry. I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like it holds answers, arms crossed over my chest like they’re supposed to keep me from unraveling. I can still see them. YN, eyes sleepy and smile soft, curled into George’s side while her fingers found mine under the blanket like it was the most natural thing in the world. George, reaching over her to fix my collar like he always does, like it means nothing.

But it does. God, it does. Every touch, every shared look, every morning coffee and middle-of-the-night text—it all means something. To me, at least. I roll over, bury my face in the pillow, and groan. I feel like I’m going to explode under the weight of everything I’ve never said. I’m in love with her. I’m in love with him. There. I said it—finally let it out like it might make the ache easier. It doesn’t.

I’ve been in love with them for longer than I want to admit. At first, it was just YN—her laugh, her mind, the way she always noticed when I was having a bad day without me saying a word. Then it was George, slowly and all at once—his dry humor, his ridiculous patience, the way he always let me in even when he didn’t say much. They’re together. They have each other. And I’ve always been… the extra. The best friend. The third wheel with the jokes and the camera and the conveniently empty passenger seat. And I thought that would be enough. That maybe just being near them would be okay. But it’s not.

Because every time YN falls asleep on my shoulder and George hands me something and his fingers linger on mine for a few seconds more than necessary, it feels like they see me. Like I belong with them. And that’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. What if I do? What if they felt it too? I let out a shaky breath and cover my face with my hands.

No. That’s dangerous thinking. That’s hope. And hope is a terrible thing when you’re the one standing outside the door, watching the light through the window, pretending you don’t wish it was your home too. I turn off the lamp and lie there in the dark, pretending sleep will come. Pretending I can keep pretending.

—

your pov

I couldn’t sleep. George was out cold beside me, one arm slung across my waist like it belonged there—and it did. But my thoughts were too loud, too insistent. It was still warm from the sun we’d soaked in earlier. My skin still smelled like strawberries and sunscreen and Alex’s cologne from when he hugged me goodbye. I’d watched him walk down the hallway with that quiet smile he wore when he was hiding how tired he was. How sad he was. I could feel the space he left behind like a ghost.

I shifted gently, brushing George’s hair back and whispering, “Babe… wake up.”

He blinked slowly, confused, warm. “You okay?”

I nodded. “We have to go.”

He sat up a little, still sleepy. “Go where?”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and he understood before I had to say it.

“To him,” I whispered. “We have to go to him.”

George smiled, soft and sad and full of something like relief. “Yeah. We do.”

We didn’t text or call. We just showed up. Alex opened the door in an oversized hoodie and pajama pants, hair sticking up on one side, eyes puffy like he hadn’t slept much either. He looked at the two of us standing there and immediately tried to smile, to laugh it off.

“What?” he said, voice hoarse. “You miss me already?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I walked in, and George followed, closing the door behind us like he was afraid we’d lose the courage if we waited another second.

Alex turned to face us, confused now. “What’s going on?”

And then I said it.

“I love you.”

His face shifted, just slightly. Eyes darting between us, trying to read whether it was a joke, a trap, a bit. His hands curled into the sleeves of his hoodie.

“YN—”

“I love you, Alex. Not just as my best friend. Not just because you’re funny or good or always there. I’m in love with you. I have been. For so long it’s not even something I can explain anymore. It’s just part of me.”

I took a shaky breath, and George stepped forward beside me, his hand grazing mine.

“And I love you too,” George said, steady as ever. “I was afraid to say it out loud. Afraid it would change things. But it already has, hasn’t it?”

Alex didn’t say anything. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. His eyes were glassy.

I reached for him, fingers brushing his sleeve. “We didn’t know how to tell you. We didn’t even know what we were feeling, for a long time. But you’ve always been the third piece of us, Alex. Not a third wheel. A third piece. And I think we’ve both known that for a while.”

Still nothing. So I kept talking, voice shaking now. “Every time you leave, the apartment feels wrong. Every time you smile at me or tease George, it feels like home. I miss you when you’re in the same room but not touching me. I love you and I’m scared and I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

He let out a sharp breath like he’d been holding it since we walked in.

“You’re serious,” he said finally, voice cracking. “You’re both… serious?”

George smiled, that little crooked grin he only ever gave when he was feeling vulnerable. “I’d ask if you want to join our weird little couple, but I think we already claimed you. We just forgot to tell you.”

That broke him. Alex laughed and cried at the same time, and I swear my heart cracked open watching it. I stepped into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and he collapsed into me like he’d been waiting his whole life to be held like that. George hugged us both from behind, his arms strong and steady, and for a second none of us said anything. We just breathed. We just were.

“I thought I was imagining it,” Alex whispered against my hair. “All the time. I thought I was the joke.”

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You were never the joke. You were always the answer.”

George kissed the back of his shoulder, murmuring, “Took us long enough, huh?”

Alex looked between us, eyes still wet, but smiling now—really smiling.

“You guys are so dumb,” he said, laughing through his tears. “I love you both. So much it’s stupid.”

“I know,” I said, smiling back. “But now you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

We stayed wrapped up in each other in the middle of his living room, swaying like the world had stopped spinning, like everything finally made sense. And for the first time in a long, long time, I wasn’t tired anymore. I was home.

—

yn_norris

liked by lando, georgerussell63, alex_albon and 7,901,555 others.

yn_norris : day w my boyssss

tagged : alex_albon and georgerussell63

—

view 555,090 other comments.

lando : oh this is why you couldn’t answer your phone?

liked by yn_norris

↳ yn_norris : no its just bc i don’t like u

username00 : the way yn and alex look at each other good lord. just fucking kiss already.

liked by yn_norris, georgerussell63 and alex_albon

↳ lando : no pls do not do that.

liked by yn_norris

charles_leclerc : did yn hit the curb today??

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and lando

↳ georgerussell63 : surprisingly no

↳ yn_norris : lechair if i were you id watch your mouth. remember that time you couldn’t fit the car in the spot so we had to switch and i had to park your car??? yeah i do.

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, alex_albon and lando

↳ charles_leclerc : stop the cap

↳ yn_norris : charles you are more known in monaco for not being able to park than your actual driving career.

liked by lando, arthur_leclerc, georgerussell63 and alex_albon

georgerussell63 : can’t wait for all these pictures of me to be posted on pinterest under ‘boyfriend material’

liked by yn_norris and alex_albon

↳ yn_norris : what can i say? i love to feed the girlies.

alex_albon : i argued with the souvenir shop attendant for 45 minutes over the stuffies not being true to size

liked by yn_norris and georgerussell63

↳ yn_norris : babe i don’t rlly think anyone needs a 400 pound stuffed gorilla in their home.

↳ alex_albon : we do!!!!!

liked by yn_norris and georgerussell63

↳ username00 : BABE????

↳ lando : yeah^^^ what she said.

—

f1gossipgirls

liked by charles_leclerc, lando and 2,090,004 others.

f1gossipgirls : 3 recent moments that prove Alex Albon and YN Norris are absolutely in love—and that he’s very much involved in the long term relationship between her and George Russell. Listen, we’ve all joked about the YN–George–Alex dynamic being more than just close friends… but at this point, the receipts are stacking. Here are just a few moments that have the internet collectively screaming. 1. At the last race weekend, YN and Alex were spotted walking together through the paddock—nothing new. But what was new? The way she looked at him like he hung the damn stars. She was also seen multiple times with her hand wrapped around his or holding onto his arm like it was second nature. 2. In a recent behind-the-scenes Williams video, there’s a blink and you’ll miss it shot of Alex looking at YN with literal heart eyes. We’re talking soft, lovestruck, completely gone. Like sir, blink twice if you’re in love with your best friends. 3. Ahead of the next Grand Prix, the two were seen at the airport where Alex was pulling YN along on her suitcase—yes, like a scene out of a romcom—while she rested her head on his hand. He looked like he won the lottery. And honestly? So did she. Whatever’s going on here… we support it fully. Let us know your thoughts. Are they all in love? Is Alex part of the softest throuple in F1 history? Is this the plot of a fanfic come to life? Because either way, we are so here for it. 🫶

—

view 275,090 other comments.

username00 : girl we been knew. its just the three of them that don’t know.

username0 : charles and lando in the likes i can’t.

username1 : alex pulling yn on her suitcase while george is probably two feet away filming it and giggling??? i need a minute

username5 : remember when people thought alex was third wheeling? turns out we were just watching a love story unfold

username7 : the way alex looks at yn like she’s made of sunlight and the way george looks at both of them like they hung the moon… i’m SOBBING

username10 : i’m not even asking them to confirm it. just keep posting the domestic bliss. i’m FED

username11 : imagine being yn and waking up between george russell and alex albon. i’d simply never recover.

—

Alex was tracing lazy shapes into the back of my hand. George had one arm slung around my shoulders, fingers absentmindedly twisting the ends of my hair. We’d been sitting like this for ages—content, quiet, safe. And yet, I could feel the unspoken thoughts hanging in the air like dust in the sunlight.

“I’ve been thinking…” I started softly, breaking the silence. Both boys turned toward me immediately, eyes kind. “I know we’ve been keeping this—us—private. And it’s been really nice, just having it to ourselves. But… part of me wants people to know.”

Alex blinked slowly, then smiled, just barely. “You mean, like… going public?”

George leaned in closer, nuzzling into my shoulder. “You’re ready for that?” he murmured.

I nodded. “I think so. I mean, it’s not like we owe anyone an explanation, but… I also don’t want to hide something that makes me this happy. You guys—” I laughed a little, nerves bubbling up. “You’re both the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And it feels like we’re pretending when we’re out there.”

George pressed a kiss to my temple. “I feel the same,” he said, voice gentle. “I’ve been thinking about it too. But I didn’t want to pressure either of you. Especially you, Alex.”

Alex looked between us, eyes a little wide, a little watery. “I—yeah. I think I’ve always been scared, honestly. Of how people would see me. Us. But then I watch you two with me—how kind you are, how normal this feels—and I stop being afraid for a while.”

I leaned over and took his hand, threading my fingers through his. “You don’t have to be scared,” I whispered. “You never have to be scared with us.”

George nodded. “We’re in this together. Fully. If people talk, they talk. But we know the truth. We love each other. That’s all that matters.”

Alex’s shoulders dropped like he’d been holding his breath for days.

“Okay,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Then let’s do it. Let’s show them what love looks like.”

I laughed, heart full to the brim. “God, they’re going to lose their minds.”

“Oh, they are,” George smirked. “But we’ve already won.”

Alex leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then George’s. “So… who’s writing the caption?”

—

alex_albon

liked by yn_norris, georgerussell63, lando & 9,005,004 others.

alex_albon : group project but i actually want to do the work. love you both ❤️

tagged : yn_norris and georgerussell63

—

view 534,003 other comments.

yn_norris : you’re the only group member i trust with the google doc. love you more than life.

liked by alex_albon and georgerussell63

↳ georgerussell63 : what about me??

↳ yn_norris : you’re more of an excel spreadsheet guy

liked by georgerussell63 and alex_albon

↳ username00 : omg i love them so much. they are such fucking nerds. SEDATE ME.

liked by yn_norris

charles_leclerc : FUCKING FINALLY. im definitely not crying

liked by yn_norris, alex_albon and georgerussell63

↳ alexandrasaintmleux : he is def crying. congrats guys❤️

liked by yn_norris, alex_albon and georgerussell63

↳ charles_leclerc : not crying. just got a spec of dust in my eye.

liked by yn_norris, alex_albon and georgerussell63

lando : i knew this was coming yet it still just makes my stomach churn

liked by yn_norris, alex_albon and georgerussell63

↳ alex_albon : hiiiii brother in law

liked by yn_norris and georgerussell63

↳ lando : nope. uh uh. absolutely not. having george was already bad enough.

liked by yn_norris, georgerussell63 and alex_albon

↳ georgerussell63 : oh you know you love me hush.

carlossainz55 : as a hardcore galex shipper and yn lover— this brings tears to my eyes. YAY

liked by yn_norris, georgerussell63 and alex_albon

↳ carlossainz55 : but break her heart and i break you both in half

liked by yn_norris

↳ username1 : carlos does not play about the norris’. iktr mama

liked by yn_norris and lando

—

It was a perfect morning. Alex was still, arm lazily draped across my waist. George was scrolling through his phone with that little sleepy smile he always got when reading sweet comments, and I was somewhere in the middle of the world—blissfully cocooned in sheets, coffee on the bedside table, surrounded by the two loves of my life. And then the knocking started. Knocking that quickly escalated into pounding. And yelling.

“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR. I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

I blinked. “Is that…?”

Alex groaned and yanked the blanket over his face. “God, please let it be fire alarm drills and not Lando Norris with a knife.”

George sighed. “It is definitely Lando.”

George got up reluctantly, muttering something about regretting knowing Lando. He barely had time to unlock the door before it slammed open and my brother stormed in. Behind him? Charles, Carlos, Pierre, and Esteban—each looking like this was a full-on intervention.

Lando immediately shouted, “YOU.”

He pointed at Alex like he was about to be tried in court.

“You hard-launched. You emotionally traumatized Twitter and ME. And you didn’t even warn anyone?!”

Alex, peeking out from under the covers, managed a sheepish, “Surprise?”

Charles flopped into the armchair like he’d just run a race. “I knew it. I’ve been saying it for MONTHS. The hand-holding. The months of soft launching and I was laughed at.”

Carlos was pacing. I swear to God, pacing.

“Do you know how many Notes app entries I have? I had a theory chart. A timeline. Receipts. I was INVESTED.”

“Wait,” I sat up. “You had a timeline?”

Carlos showed me. It was color-coded. I honestly didn’t know whether to be flattered or alarmed. Pierre, casually raiding our minibar, popped open a tiny bottle of champagne like this was some kind of victory. “About time, poly trio. Santé.”

Lando whirled on me.

“And YOU! My SISTER. You didn’t think to tell me that you were out here in love with two drivers? Under my nose?!”

I shrugged, attempting innocence. “You’re dramatic. You’d have live-tweeted it.”

“I WOULDN’T HAVE—” he paused. “Okay, fair.”

Charles, still draped across the chair, nodded. “He does have a very specific meltdown tone.”

George returned to the bed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, watching the chaos with mild amusement. “You guys act like we planned this.”

Esteban handed George a croissant. “Didn’t you though? With, like… all the longing stares and Alex sleeping over constantly?”

Alex sat up, rubbing his face. “For the record, I didn’t sleep over constantly.”

Lando shook his head, “Bro. You were wearing George’s shirt at breakfast in Barcelona.”

And then Carlos chimed in, “And YN’s fuzzy socks. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Pierre returned with snacks. “So… are we getting a couple name now? Throuple? Triad? Love triangle but healthy edition?”

George sighed, “Please. No.”

Charles chimed in, “I vote ‘Algeoyn.’”

Alex mutters, “You just made us sound like a dinosaur.”

Then there was a blessed moment of peace… until Lando sat down heavily, frowning at me.

“I’m not mad. I’m not. I just…” He paused dramatically and looked into my eyes.

“If either of them hurts you, I will crash a scooter into both of them and it will not be an accident.”

“You crashed last week because you were texting.”

“UNRELATED.”

Everyone was laughing at that point—Carlos already halfway through a bag of chips, George was showing Esteban pictures from the Zoo trip, Charles and Lando had snatched Carlos’ phone to examine the timeline he made. Alex leaned into me, whispering, “This is kind of perfect, isn’t it?”

I looked around the room—at my brother trying to act tough, at my boys watching me like I was the only thing in the world, and at our chaotic paddock family crashing our soft Sunday.

I smiled. “Yeah. Kind of is.”

—

658 notes · View notes

itsaintmebabe · 1 month ago

Text

my boyfriend's pretty cool

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: oscar loves his girlfriend

notes: lowkey just got really bored and the imola gp had me wanting to make an oscar fic so here it is!!

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ masterlist / social media au / fc: christina nadin

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 516,093 others

yourusername so proud of my baby!!!

view all comments

user6 you mean our baby??? be fr rn

user23 no bc he looked into the camera like “hi babe” during the cooldown lap i SAW IT

user18 his biggest flex is not the trophy. it’s being able to call YOU his gf and he KNOWS IT

oscarpiastri i was sweating and it wasn’t the heat it was you in that outfit

↳ user9 this is the man everyone thinks is nonchalant btw

user10 sources say oscar asked to skip debrief just to go kiss you (unconfirmed but i believe it)

alexandrasaintmleux most gorgeous girl

↳ yourusername forget charles and come give me a kiss

↳ charlesleclerc i don’t even have anything to say anymore

liked by yourusername, mclaren and 1,683,924 others

oscarpiastri productive weekend

view all comments

user15 is it really an oscar post if there’s not a pic of y/n

yourusername ride to survive or whatever it’s called

↳ oscarpiastri baby😭

↳ user5 y/n has oscar’s pr team sweating

user46 oscar would probably let y/n run him over with the MCL38 and say thank you

user11 i just know he picked that pic of her first then the ones of him with the trophy

↳ oscarpiastri and what abt it

↳ user13 oscar is apart of the sassy man apocalypse confirmed

mclaren this is no longer an F1 driver account it’s a fanpage for his girlfriend and we respect it

liked by oscarpiastri, lando and 734,204 others

yourusername got him into a button up shirt for one day and i’m cherishing it forever

view all comments

user21 everyone say “thank you y/n!” for the new oscar pics

user18 why is he sitting there like “my gf made me pose but i’m secretly loving every second”

↳ yourusername can confirm he literally whined abt me taking the pic but then posed

↳ oscarpiastri i only posed because you looked so excited to take the picture

↳ user87 i’m jumping off a bridge

user23 polite cat oscar returns

user10 drop the skincare routine PLEASE

user7 i don’t want a relationship. i want whatever the hell THIS is

liked by yourusername, lando and 1,280,452 others

oscarpiastri some time with my girl in miami before this weekend

view all comments

user37 can oscar fight???

↳ oscarpiastri i can and i will

user19 con😭gra😭tu😭lations😭

user34 “my girl” ??? oh we’re USING PRONOUNS now??

user27 he’s acting like we’re not hanging on by a THREAD every time he posts her

yourusername baby i told you not to the post the second pic of me

↳ oscarpiastri and i ignored you respectfully because you look hot

↳ user51 she said don’t and he said “ok but i’m in love actually”

user46 why is she with someone who probably says “do you still want that coffee thing?” 🙄

↳ oscarpiastri no, i say “your iced oat latte’s in the cup holder, baby.” try harder.

yourusername has added to their story!

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 628,429 others

yourusername three in a row!!!

view all comments

user16 the side eye is LETHAL he wanted out of those interviews

user29 he’s winning on track and in life tbh. get you a supportive baddie like y/n

user4 this was posted with so much girlfriend pride i felt it in my soul

oscarpiastri if you think this post’s good, you should see the celebratory kiss i got after

↳ user31 SIR

mclaren y/n’s camera roll deserves a podium of its own

user43 we get it girl. he races fast and he loves you. enough.

user82 girl drop the real caption. i KNOW it was originally “my winner and my dinner” before you changed it

↳ yourusername ur right i should’ve left it 😔

oscarpiastri some of you in the comments wish you were me. i don’t blame you.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smau #smau #social media au #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #op81 #op81 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #formula 1 #formula one

618 notes · View notes

reidrum · 2 months ago

Text

darwinism

A/N: being really brave and posting this bc i wasn’t sure about it but i hope u like it! a reminder to show love to ur favorite writers/creators :) scheduling this post while im omw to halsey’s opening show tonight BUT we hit 3k and that’s so insane to me that people want to read my silly little stories thank you thank you thank you

summary: the you that broke up with spencer to follow your dreams in london isn’t the same you that returns a year later

cw: spoiler content warning at the end of this post! angst, hurt/comfort, bau!reader, ex!spencer, implications of past trauma, descriptions of torture, medical jargon, cm typical violence, throwing up, spencer is kinda mean but he loves you i promise

wc: 6k

The familiarity strikes you like a knife as you walk through the doors of the BAU. Over a year since you’ve been here and it seems nothing has changed—Hotch still surveills from his office atop the landing, Emily and Derek sit opposite each other. Even your desk has remained untouched and the way you left it, still next to the desk you’d begged to be next to.

A year since you left it all behind in pursuit of furthering your career, a shiny new position across the pond at Interpol. A year since you left behind the only family you had in D.C., the BAU. A year since you left Spencer, the love of your life.

Before you left, Spencer thought everything was going great between you both. You seemed happy, content with his company and love. Falling in love with a colleague, especially in his line of work, has its risks but he’s found that having you will always outweigh any consequence or worst scenario his mind can think of.

Spencer would never tell you they actually offered the job to him first, but he turned it down so he could stay with you. He still remembers the fight you had the night before you left, how he couldn’t understand why you would risk throwing away what you had. You knew he never would, with his multiple degrees and high caliber of success he didn’t need that extra validation. To be a mere mortal in the presence of such excellence is humbling and harrowing.

So you left.

You love him, you really did—still do. Nothing about where you were in the world would ever change that. Making the decision to leave was the hardest but you knew it would be better for your career. Spencer might never comprehend how easily you made that decision to take the job in London when it seemed like the hardest thing for him. How could he, when everything he encountered with his Midas’ touch of knowledge only served to expand his beautiful brain. When you left and parted ways, it was for good.

The thing is though, you’re back.

No one actually knew you were coming back until a week ago, when Hotch announced your return to the team as soon as you landed. The job offer was a permanent one and the details are unclear as to why you did come back so early. Bunch of sealed, redacted documents. All Spencer knows is that you are home and back here with him. Maybe not with him, but you were here and that counts for something.

The desk next to yours is empty but clearly occupied, the satchel slouched over on the ground with a cardigan haphazardly thrown over the back of the chair. You walk up to yours and see it practically untouched, up kept even. You sling your bag off the shoulder and take inventory of your desk, your name plate and tchotchkes aligned.

You don’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you.

“Hey.”

You still at the voice and turn slowly, “Hi, Spencer.”

He takes a good look at you, the first one he’s gotten to have of you in over a year. You look the same more or less. Your hair is longer, you’ve lost weight, you stopped wearing makeup. There’s something else surrounding you unspoken, he can’t place his finger on it.

“It’s um, it’s good to see you.” he nods awkwardly, trying not to cringe inwardly as he attempts normality.

“Likewise.” you hum.

Hotch calls your name from the landing, “Welcome back. I need everyone in the conference room in two minutes.”

You both nod, each secretly glad your interaction was cut short.

Derek rounds your desk and opens his arms, “Good to see you, pretty girl. It’s been too quiet without you.” You try not to let your heart squeeze over the term of endearment, a stem of his nickname for Spencer coined specially for you after Derek had figured you both out.

You squeeze him back, “Missed you too, Morgan.”

Emily loops her arm through yours as you pull back from Derek, slowly starting the walk up to the conference room. “How was London? Was the apartment okay?” Former Interpol agent perks, Emily had her own flat in London she so graciously lent to you.

“All good, Em,” you say softly, slowly trudging up the steps, “I’ll show you pictures later.”

Emily continues talking as you both get further out of earshot from Spencer, whose eyes follow until you disappear into the room. There really is something different about you that he can’t quite figure out yet, no way of even proving that something is wrong–just a sheer feeling of knowing you from the way you’ve imprinted on him. He decides it’s probably just jet lag.

“You alright, kid?” Derek nudges him, “Must be a lot for you,”

He forgot he was even still down here, “Yeah, fine. We should go,”

—

The first time Spencer noticed he didn’t think anything of it.

It’s paperwork week after a long few weeks of traveling, to everyone’s delight. In desperate need for caffeination you grab your mug from your desk and trudge to the break room to make yourself a coffee. You place a pod into the slot and press start, the machine whirring to life as it prepares to brew your lifesaving coffee.

You’re about to bend down to the cupboard under the table when you hear footsteps.

Spencer slows as he walks in, not wanting to startle you, “We moved the sugar by the way, it’s above the sink now.”

“Oh, thanks.” you mumble. You reach a hand up to open the cupboard, hiding a wince as you stretch up.

He clocks the change in your face immediately, “Are you okay?”

Your eyes widen as you come back down and school your face back to normal, “Yeah, why?”

“You look like you’re in pain. Did you get hurt or something?” he prods, eyes looking questionably between your face and your waist. Your shirt raises slightly and he can see the tail end of what looks like a nasty scar. He attempts to walk closer but with hypervigilance on your side and great timing by the coffee machine you grab your coffee and side step him towards the door.

“Oh did I? Must’ve stretched weird this morning.” you say from the door.

“You stretch now?” he humorlessly chuckles.

“It’s important to stay limber,” Your hand subconsciously rests over your abdomen, unnaturally to the side as if you’re covering something. “Got to go, bye.”

He watches you duck out of the room, “Um, bye?”

Weird, he thinks. You didn’t even end up taking the sugar, the evidence of it still scattered on the counter. You were so quick to leave but Spencer lets himself entertain the idea that you wanted to leave so fast not to get away from him, but because he noticed a crack in your facade.

He tries to school his own face back to normal as he returns to his desk and drops two sugar packets on yours.

–

The second time he notices, it nearly breaks his heart.

It’s a hot day in the Houston precinct where you and Spencer tackle the geographical profile while the rest of the team works out the victim’s details and witnesses. It was a no brainer to pair you two together, you’d been doing geographical profiles since way before you ever got together. It’s how you both fell in love, actually. Countless hours hunched over a map, late night conversations getting weirdly philosophical, something about the way you worked together just clicked. Like you completed something he didn’t know he didn’t have, something he didn’t know he craved so subconsciously.

You made sense to him, you always do.

Things are little different post your breakup, your skill sets are still above par for crafting the geographical profile, and therefore it only served to make sense to pair you both again. He knows it’s for the better, you’ll always make sense to him—even in times like this.

You’re more defensive than he remembers, more meticulous and stubborn than his darling girl who left him. You were always stubborn, but here you were finding faults in everything. The attack sites are too scattered for an accurate comfort zone, you’d argue. The victimology doesn��t add up, you’d jab.

Since you left Spencer’s patience has diminished dramatically, even for you now as he’s about to discover. Normally he’d welcome your counterpoints with respectful criticism and counters while you both talk it out. But right now you’re arguing like you simply want to be right, like you need to be right.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Spencer sighs, “The unsub clearly is frequenting these places for a reason, and it matches the victimology perfectly. How can you not see it?”

“It doesn’t add up!” you jab, “He’s kidnapping high risk victims in a high risk environment, that goes against what we think he’s even killing for.”

His voice raises, “What he’s killing for doesn’t even matter if we can’t predict where he’s going to strike next! The next body could surface tonight, we don’t have time to be childish like this.”

“Childish? Suddenly my analysis is childish? Fuck you, Spencer.”

“Okay, look I didn’t mean—“ He reaches his hand above your figure to grab the marker atop the white board.

A normal motion for him.

But you flinch, hard.

Spencer rarely if ever yelled at you when you were together, he certainly and definitively would never lay his hands on you. Any argument you had with him was resolved civilly, safely. Even when you get disciplined at work by Hotch or Strauss they go easy on you, a stern warning and a passing Be Better.

What you did now is stitched from his nightmares. The sharp yelp you let out will ring in his ears for who knows how long. He can’t figure it out, he’s not sure if he wants to. You’re part of a team of profilers, trained to analyze micro expressions and behaviors to predict what happened. Spencer knows what it means for the way you reacted, his training clearly outlines it.

Previous trauma suffered. Reflex response. Learned.

Wherever you learned that response, it cannot be from him—it’s impossible. It’s offensive. It makes him sick to even think it could come from him, even sicker to think about where it did come from. This wasn’t you, not the you that Spencer knew and loved.

Yet you flinched, and to his horror you’re now shaking.

He says your name like broken glass, “I…I wasn’t going to hurt you. You’re shaking, I…” He tries to move closer again, like he did in the break room, and instead of ducking out you back up and bump into the whiteboard, startling yourself further.

“N—Nothing, I’m fine. It’s fine. I…need to go get some air.” you stutter, the jitters clearly consuming you.

You run out of the precinct before he can say anything else, evading Emily’s calls and JJ’s brush of your arm as you leave.

Spencer lingers on the ghost of your figure as it haunts the door, and turns to the rest of the team sporting matching confusion. “You all saw that right?”

Morgan nods slowly, “Something’s up with her.”

“I know,” he rasps, “I’ve never seen her look so scared.” The look on your face will surely haunt him every time he blinks.

JJ speaks, “Do you think something happened in London?”

It had to, Spencer thinks. You were not like this before you left. Not skittish, not hypervigilant of your surroundings—fearing a familiar hand.

The team looks to Hotch, knowing if someone knew it would be him. “Her records are sealed,” he mumbles, feigning professionalism yet unable to hide his concern for you, “Interpol informed me it was a need to know basis, and we were not cleared for that.”

“But she’s not okay, Hotch.” Spencer protests.

Hotch gives him a stern look, but his eyes soften in understanding, “I know, we can figure this out when we get back. For now, let her cool off and let’s focus on the case.”

Everyone exchanges uneasy looks and begrudgingly returns to their tasks.

When you return the team offers you the grace of pretending what happened didn’t even exist. You’re inwardly grateful, you know it doesn’t show on the outside. Spencer keeps an eye on you but maintains his distance lest you get triggered at his hands again. He wouldn’t survive watching you react to him so viscerally, in a way that couldn’t be further from the love he showered you in.

It’s in this moment Spencer realizes he misses you. When you left he obviously missed you, but in a way in which he knew you would return home eventually. You broke his heart by leaving, but he knew you would come back to the BAU, where you belonged. A you he honestly believes he took for granted, because it looks like that you didn’t make it home to him. Right now, he’s missing that you. The you before London.

—

The third time he realizes, he acts on his own–you didn’t even have to do anything.

He knows something happened in London. He just can’t figure out what it is, but he’s going to.

Spencer should feel bad asking Penelope to hack into your medical records. He can’t find himself to actually care though after seeing that stab wound on your hip, and how quick you were to brush it off like it was nothing. It was massive, and by the position of it had to have required some medical intervention. When he got shot in the knee all they needed to do was stabilize his leg from the outside with a brace, yours looked dangerously close to a lung.

“Is there a reason we’re violating her privacy like this? She’s my friend, I feel icky.”

“Garcia, please.” his tone holding something deeper.

She glances at him and returns back to typing, breaking down the many firewalls of the bureau medical records.

“And…done.” a flurry of documents floods her screens, Spencer leans in closer to read them but she whispers under her breath, “Oh my god, my sweet girl.”

“What is it?”

Garcia pulls up your medical record from London, and makes the sheet bigger. The glaring title reading Emergency Room Admit. He reads the preliminary injuries of stab wounds, bruises, mild concussion.

Emergency services were called to a warehouse where you were unconscious and bleeding out. You still weren’t conscious when you were admitted, and they had to resuscitate you after you’d coded in the ambulance en route. They took you to emergency surgery, your broken ribs causing major arterial damage in your abdomen. Line after line listed another injury, another note where they performed a life saving measure on you. He couldn’t believe it, how had all of this happened and no one knew about it? How he didn’t know about it?

“She was attacked.” he mumbles in disbelief, poison hanging on the tip of his words.

Penelope says through watery tears, “How could they not tell us? This says it was nearly nine months ago.”

“I don’t know,” he breathes out shakily, “but something still feels off.”

Everything he was thinking and felt becomes obsolete as he scrolls further down to see a note that takes the final blow for him.

Miscarriage due to sustained injuries. Pt suffered stab wounds to the lower left quadrant of the abdomen, fetus not viable upon admission.

No.

No, that can’t be right.

The nausea builds in the back of his throat as he processes. He looks at the dates of the report again and anxiously does the math in his head. If your assault happened only three months after you left then—No.

All the questions begin to swirl in Spencer’s mind. Did you know you were pregnant? You didn’t tell anyone it seems, and then you chose to still stay in london for another nine months even after the incident. It made no sense, an event as traumatic as what he read you went through should have sent you right back home. Right back to him.

The nausea catches up to him and takes over his body, hurling into the nearest trash can he can find. Penelope, through sniffled sobs, attempts to rub her friend’s back as soothingly as she can.

He wipes his mouth, “I need to talk to her. Is she still at the same address?”

“Spencer, I don’t think—“

“I don’t care what you think, Garcia. Tell me where she is.” he snaps.

Penelope widens her eyes in shock at his outburst, knowing she can’t blame him for how he’s reacting. “Y—Yeah, same address.”

He speeds out of the room, stopping by the bathroom to rinse his mouth and splash water on his face. His hands rub harshly down the sides of his face as he stares at himself in the mirror. All the color is drained from his face, nowhere in sight of returning. He doesn’t know what to feel–let alone what to think. He’s angry, hurt, confused. He’s not expecting to feel scared, yet he’s not sure what he’s scared of.

In Spencer’s life his role has always been the protector, the parentified child that had to grow up too fast to care for their sick mother. He wouldn’t have it any other way, some help would have been nice, but his 187 IQ served him better than others would in his position. Perfection, as his mother fondly called him. All he’s ever known is to protect, joining the FBI helps him continue to actualize this ability he’s honed. Meeting you gave him purpose to protect–a conscious choice he could make that wasn’t a result of his circumstance. A choice to protect you, because he loves you.

Yet his choice to let you go, to not follow you, has led him to face this awful consequence at the cost of your safety. Right now, he feels like anything but a protector.

Spencer gets in his car and drives to your apartment complex, parking in the same vacant spot he always did when he came over each time. He climbs the stairs fast and knocks harshly on your door, hearing you shuffle a minute later and opening it. “Spencer? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” he says urgently, moving past you to get inside.

You furrow your brows at his intrusion and mumble, moving aside passively, “No please, come in.”

You lock the door and walk towards your living room, where Spencer is pacing back and forth running his hand stressfully through his hair. He makes no effort to speak first, still in his head about everything.

“So, are you going to tell me why you showed up here?”

“I know what happened.”

You tilt your head, “What do you mean?”

“In London. I know what happened to you.”

Your face drops instantly and suddenly the world stops. All your windows are closed but a sharp and brisk chill runs up your spine, goosebumps erupting all over you as a pathetic defense against what feels like a vocal attack. Trapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say under your breath.

He stops pacing and faces you, “No?” he steps closer, “That’s why all your medical records are sealed shut?”

“You looked at my medical records?”

“I had to, you weren’t telling me anything.”

“Maybe because I didn’t want you to know.” you yell, “Those are private documents.”

“I don’t know how I didn’t notice it at first—you were in pain reaching for the sugar in the cupboard, suddenly you don’t wear anything shorter than pants and a long sleeve. The big scar on your torso.”

“That doesn’t mean anything—“

“You flinched. The other day.”

You falter, “What?”

“We all pretended it didn’t happen when you came back, but you know what happened. I raised my hand for something and you flinched.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you repeat less convincing this time.

He steps closer, trying to hide his hurt when you take a step back as well, “I think you know exactly what it means, and it scares you that I know now too.”

“You’re not supposed to know.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one’s supposed to know! I had them sealed for a reason.”

“So you were just not going to tell any of us you were attacked?”

Your face contorts, “I had to do what was safe for me. You may not understand my choices but I was counseled into believing this was the best option for me.”

“Counseled,” he laughs humorlessly, stepping towards you and staring you down, “Did this counsel inform you that notifying the father of your miscarriage wasn’t necessary?”

The bile rises in your throat, the room unhinges upon its axis as it begins to spin. “N—No, that’s not—“

“Did you tell anyone?” another step, “Were you ever going to tell me it was mine?”

“Spencer you don’t understand.”

He flails his arms in anger, “No, I fucking don’t! First you leave me behind like I meant nothing to you, but then you were pregnant with my child. You didn’t even care to tell me! I wanted a life with you, I loved you. And you just left.”

You stare at him in silence, unable to think of anything to say.

“How could you not tell me?” he whispers brokenly, “I thought you trusted me.”

“I couldn’t tell you, you have to know that.”

“You couldn’t or you wouldn’t?” he pricks.

The tears well up in your eyes, “That’s not fair.”

“No? You don’t think so?” He knows he’s being mean, he can’t help it—he was supposed to protect you, even if you wouldn’t let him. His guilt is rearing its head in an ugly manner. “Was the baby even mine? Or is there something else you’re also not telling me?”

The hurt splays on your face clear as day, “Why are you being like this?” you mumble.

“I just want answers,” he exasperates, carding a stressed hand through his hair, “I want to know why you felt like you couldn’t tell me, or any of us, that you almost died nine months ago and kept living in London until now.”

Your mouth is entirely dried up, your eyes burning deeply. How long you’d been running and carrying this weight alone on your shoulders starts to reveal itself when your exhaustion finally catches up to you, begging you to wave the white flag and surrender.

You take a deep and shaky breath, “My records were sealed because it was an Interpol agent that attacked me.”

Spencer is stunned into silence. Interpol agent?

Someone turned on the bureau—turned on you, and decided you would be the scapegoat for the brass’ wrongdoings. Someone you trusted laid their hands on you, and caused you such irreparable damage you felt compelled to carry it alone if the agencies had anything to do with it.

He’s nearly shaking with anger, “We need to report it.”

“I can’t.”

“He hurt you!”, he looks at you with disbelief, “We have to make sure they’re held responsible for it.”

“Spencer,”

“I don’t know why you’re so against it, you should know how important it is to make sure people like him don’t get away with this—“

“Spencer,” you plead.

He stops, finally meeting your eyes and faltering when he sees the tears welling and red rims forming. He takes a sharp breath, “You did report it…didn’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face drops, “I did, yeah.”

Spencer couldn’t believe it. Actually he could, he knows very well the statistics of women getting justice for assault crimes against them and how the odds are rarely stacked in their favor. Still, he feels appalled to think that the same system that he works to uphold—the same one you work for—has failed you so terribly.

If you reported it, then that means you knew your attacker.

“They didn’t know Mark was working both sides until he took me.” you whisper shakily.

Mark, the one who’d been your mentor when you were offered the job. Spencer remembers conversing with him when he was still in talks for the job too,

Spencer knows it should’ve been him instead of you. If he had just taken the job, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If he didn’t love you as much as he did to not leave you, maybe you’d be here—safe—while he worried about you from over there. The light that guides him home every night would still be shining in your eyes, and he wouldn’t be stranded in the middle of the dark ocean wondering what you would look like with the swell of his child.

How you looked, with the swell of his child.

At first Spencer is angry—at himself, at you, at the bureau for letting this happen. Then he’s just sad, over what could’ve been, what might be. Spencer would always joke that your stubbornness would lead to your downfall if he couldn’t help it. But you shut him out entirely, left him in the dark wondering if you even still loved him. Repetitively thinking about how easy it was for you to leave him alone back in Quantico. You were always too independent for your own good. It’s then another cold guttural realization stuns him—you were all alone when this happened.

“Oh, angel.” his voice cracks.

At this point, you’re just trying hard to keep it together. You weren’t expecting to have to reopen this wound again, although you should be considered a fool for thinking you could hide it from the very person you sealed it up for. You’re stubborn to a fault, constantly desperate for complete and total control over your life. Paining yourself is a valiant effort you invoke to protect others from the torturous reality you’ve spun for yourself. It seemed like the best option.

After all, a self inflicted wound is enough control for you–if you’ve already hurt yourself another cut can’t cause worse damage. Most people would show mercy at some point, not willing to cross the lines of depravity to wound you so badly.

But you? Crossing the line leads you right back to yourself, a circle even. Boundless to the restraints of humanity and unfiltered to the consequences of shame and guilt.

It’s why not telling Spencer was doable. Keeping it from him hurt you more than anyone could ever begin to comprehend.

If nothing in this world can be created or destroyed then the pain you feel must be arbitrary, a remanifestation of your own being returning back to where it came from. Angry to be disturbed in the first place, entitled to return home.

Everything will always go back to the way it was.

Even Spencer.

Even you.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” you sniffle, sitting down on the couch “I really wanted to.”

“So why didn’t you?”

You whisper, “I was so embarrassed.”

He dares to step closer, “Why embarrassed?”

“I—I know they offered you the position before me,” his eyes widen as you continue, “I was so mad at you at first because you didn’t tell me, and then I realized why you didn’t take it and I felt so shitty about it. But I needed it, you know? It was supposed to be good for my career! I don’t have fancy degrees and publications and the reputation you have. You know how hard I’ve worked to get to this point? But I kept feeling like I couldn’t measure up, wouldn’t measure up no matter how hard I tried.”

“Measure up to what, baby?”

“You!” you wail, “I wanted to prove that I could do it, on my own.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me or anyone. You never did, you know that.” he says tearfully, finally taking a spot next to you.

You sniffle, “Well, I didn’t think I could. I felt so out of my element when I got there, Spence. But then Mark started watching me, helping me out where he could. He told me he saw potential in me, and made himself my mentor while I was there.”

His blood boils at the mention of Mark but lets you continue. “I…I trusted him. He said he wanted to help me, that he understood what it was like coming fresh from the States.”

“But then,” your face crumples, Spencer’s hands itch at his side to reach out for you, “I was walking to my car one night. I stayed late, because I was finishing a case study. Next thing I knew, there was a bag over my head and I couldn’t breathe.”

Spencer subconsciously inches closer, his hand ghosting the expanse of your body. “Then what happened?”

“When I woke up I was in a warehouse, they tied my hands to the chair I was sitting in. And I waited for someone to come in. Then I saw Mark.” you whisper.

His hand moves to bravely rests on yours, knowing you need all the courage you can get right now. “Was Mark the one who hurt you?”

You nod erratically, “He thought I knew something about the Silk Road, that trafficking network.”

Spencer remembers investigating the Silk Road affairs, they were slowly but surely getting every single person involved in it. You were a big help when you were here, able to pinpoint when and where these people might be hiding.

“I was telling him the truth, there wasn’t anything I knew about active Silk Road members,” you strain, “He didn’t believe me, and it wasn’t what he wanted from me anyway.”

His other hand rests on the couch ledge behind you, “What did he want, baby?”

You let out a soft whine, “I had a contact in London who knew the password to the Silk Road database. I met with him before my first day, and he told me.”

His fingers ghost your shoulder and you don’t move to his relief, letting his touch be more intentional. “But Mark knew you met him.”

You nod, “He knew I knew the password. That’s what he wanted. I—I wouldn’t give it to him, it was too dangerous to let him have it.” A sob breaks through your voice, “Everytime I said no, he’d hurt me.”

You gently pull your shirt up to reveal the scar he saw in the break room that day, but you pull it further up to reveal a few more scars and bruising that still hadn’t faded.

His breath catches like a fish on a hook. “Oh my god,” Each scar is meticulously placed, intentional. The scars have mostly healed, but the remnants of the marks are so expansive it physically pains him to think about what you suffered when they were inflicted. This wasn’t supposed to happen to you.

The guilt settles in him like a rock when he thinks about how strong you had to be to survive this. All alone in a new country with no one you could trust anymore. You’ve always been a different breed of strength, something he marveled at about you. But you’re still in the fight or flight mode of standing strong in your surroundings. A prey who knows the predator routine all too well, knowing the second you falter is when they strike.

He tucks your head into the crevice of his neck—you don’t need to be strong anymore, he’s here now.

“It looks worse than it feels, I swear.” you tug your shirt back down, “I really didn’t know I was pregnant until I woke up in the hospital, Spencer. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey no,” he shushes, closing the distance between you to gather you in his arms, “don’t even think about that okay, I’m not mad.”

“I should’ve told you.” you cry.

“I know why you didn’t, it’s okay. You were just trying to protect yourself.” Spencer hushes, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” you lament, “I shut you out.”

His hand gently runs up and down your spine, “I’m not mad at you, angel.”

“You should be.”

Another question burns his tongue, “Why didn’t you come home?”

“I wanted to, but…when I tried to report it they acted like they already knew. And I told them what happened to me, what he did, and all they said was that they’d look into it. I saw him at work the next day. I transferred to a different building the day after.” you recount, “I think there’s more Interpol agents working both sides, Spencer.”

“Does Mark still work there?”

“Yeah, I think so…What are you doing?”

He grabs his phone and opens his message thread with Penelope, drafting a text about calling the team and booking flights, “I’m telling Garcia to find flights to London.”

Your eyes widen, “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m going to kill him.”

“Spencer,” you chide.

“And once the rest of the team finds out what happened I’m sure they’ll be on board with it too.”

“Please don’t do anything. I don’t want to cause any more trouble. It was nearly a year ago now, it’s okay. ” you mutter.

He pauses typing and sets his phone back down, scooching back to you and holding your face to his, unable to break eye contact with him, “No it’s not,” he says sternly, “what happened to you was not okay. Do you understand?”

“But��”

“No. You can’t do that. You won’t. This isn’t some sort of inconvenience we move past. You were taken advantage of, and someone hurt you. You did not deserve that at all.”

You pause and look at him, the tears spilling over down your cheeks. You’d spent the last year in solitude convincing yourself that it was all your fault. Your ambition was too strong, you were too eager, you should’ve been tougher. You lived a truth in which you were the problem. Spencer wasn’t there to remind you otherwise, but he’s ready to spend forever making up for lost time. “I…I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes soften and his thumbs move under your eyes, swiping gently, “No, you didn’t.” A few more quiet sobs leave you, “So why did it happen to me?” you ask meekly.

“I don’t know, angel. I really don’t.” he smooths your hair back, “I’m going to make it better, though. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

You nod and hug him tighter, letting a few more tears fall and stain his shirt. “I should be the one to tell the team, I know they’re probably wondering too.”

“They were really worried about you.”

“I’m sorry for worryin—“

“Shh,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “No more sorrys, okay?”

“Okay.” you curl into him.

“For the record,” he hesitates before he speaks, “I’ll always worry about you. Even if we’re not together, in different universes, or whatever. I’ll always take care of you, and I’ll always love you.”

“I thought you hated me.” you whisper.

“Impossible.” he kisses another part of your face he can reach.

“I love you too, thank you.”

For being here. For saving me. For still loving me.

“He’s going to pay for this, I promise.” You open your mouth to protest and Spencer continues, “He will get what’s coming to him. We’re going to make sure of it.”

You nod softly and listen to his heartbeat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, baby.”

“You know I did die in the ambulance for a few seconds.” you whisper quietly.

He swallows, “I saw that in the report. I’m so sorry, sweet girl, that must have been so scary. I know what that feels like.”

“Did you…see anything, when you died?”

From when he almost succumbed to the hands of Tobias Hankel and his father. “I saw a light, it felt warm. Enveloping. Why, did you see something?”

“Yeah,” you tuck in closer to his chest, “I saw you.”

spoiler cw: pregnancy, miscarriage, reader is tortured, reader sustains injuries

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

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make me late

in which spencer finds a few minutes to spare with fem!reader in the morning

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence, sub reader, technically dubcon bc he doesn’t ask and she jokingly says stop but it’s not like that I promise, fingering (here we go again), 'slutty' is used to describe an action but not by spencer, spencer slaps r's ass one (1) time, (hot), mild overstimulation a/n: apparently need to post at least one fingering fic per week or i'll fucking die. very short and sweet but as always let me know if you like it, i have a crush on all of you!

You’re used to Spencer’s alarm going off early in the morning—typically you tune it out or sleep right through it. Today, however, it rouses you more than usual. You roll over, blinking your eyes open.

“Sorry,” Spencer mutters, finally turning it off and leaning over to kiss your head. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him down again when he tries to get out of bed.

“Don’t go,” you beg into his shirt, slinging a leg over him. His hand slips under your (also his) shirt, rubbing the bare skin of your back.

“I have to. You know that.”

“I just want you to stay for a little bit,” you insist.

“No you don’t,” he drawls, voice still gravelly with sleep, “You want to make me late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say innocently, burying your face further into his shirt as if you could extinguish the heat in your cheeks.

His hand drops from your back to reach under your thigh, pushing your underwear to the side. You gasp when his fingers make contact with your soaked core, involuntarily pressing your hips closer.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Stop it! That’s not fair!” You squeal, attempting to wriggle away once you regain your senses. But the bastard wraps his arm around your waist like a vice, forcing you to stay in place as he sinks a finger into you with no preamble. Instead of satisfying him with a vocal response, you keep your face hidden in the crook of his shoulder and remain obstinately silent. When he begins to slowly pump his finger, you’re forced to bite the fabric of his shirt to shut yourself up.

“If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll stop,” he says plainly, but obviously he knows that’s the last thing you want. His ring finger joins the other and your mouth falls open, a tiny, choked breath against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

Don’t give in, you say to yourself. Wait. What are you not giving in to? Fuck, that feels good. You hum quietly—an excellent display of self-control considering the noises you’re actively holding back.

“Are we already getting whiny?”

“‘m not whining,” you bite.

“You’re always whining.” There’s nothing to do but prove him right when he begins massaging that spot inside you with a practiced stroke of his fingers—the one that makes you arch your back further and spread your legs a little wider—makes you oh-so compliant and all together, a bit slutty. But Spencer has told you that by definition, you’re not a slut if it’s just him who you lose all self-respect around. “My pretty girl feels so good, huh?”

You agree with a mindless mumble, forgetting that you were ever going to try and fight the pleasure.

“It feels so good.”

“I can tell, baby. Listen to the mess you're making.”

Soft, wet sounds emanate from where you’re probably dripping around his fingers. A moan is muffled by his shoulder as your own fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt and sink into the flesh of his waist—though you doubt he minds.

“Please don’t stop, please please please—" It’s quiet, almost demure as you plead.

“You’re so sweet when you get like this,” Spencer coos. “I wish you were always so well-behaved.”

No, he doesn’t. Both of you know he loves fucking the attitude out of you, and at times, back into you. But you’re not in any place to correct him right now, as his fingers slip in and out of you so quickly, exactly where you want to be touched.

“Oh, right—right there, that’s—oh, god,” you squeak.

Your face is still nuzzled in his shirt, your voice is still so delicate and weak with sleep, rising in pitch with your pleasure until it breaks.

“Right here? This is where you need it?”

“Yes,” you practically cry, “I’m gonna come, Spence��” your hips rock back and forth to meet each stroke of his fingers inside you, vision going white with with pleasure.

“Yeah? My pretty girl is gonna come all over my fingers?”

“Mhm!” You speed up the motion of your hips. He chuckles, which might offend you if you were in your right mind, but it’s early, and you’re tired, and your soul is trying to untether itself from your body.

“Let me feel it, baby. I wanna feel you coming, can you do that for me?”

A breathy keen rushes from your throat as your orgasm begins to suck you out to sea like a riptide, flooding your lungs and blood and everything with so much easy pleasure you’re barely awake and you don’t care one bit.

“Uh-huh, good girl,” Spencer murmurs, not letting up with his fingers as you fall through your orgasm. Another choked moan takes you by surprise when his free hand falls with a heavy clap to your ass, before rubbing the stinging flesh. “Let go a little bit longer, baby, I’m right here.”

You’re barely breathing, still seeing stars as he continues to fuck you leisurely with his fingers, more out of pure affection than anything else. Eventually he slips them out, teasing gently over your clit as your stomach tenses. But you let him keep going. You’ll do anything to keep him in bed for a few minutes longer. To that end, you gather enough breath to speak.

“Can you please fuck me?”

He hums pityingly, moving his hand from between your legs to lovingly soothe the tender skin he’d slapped just a moment ago.

“You know I can’t, baby. I shouldn’t have even done this. I really have to get a move on.”

“But you did do this,” you say, eager to point out the fallacies in his argument, “which means you could also have sex with me and we could be really fast and you could just take less time getting ready for work.”

Your chin is now resting on his shoulder as you look up at him with wide, imploring eyes, and he leans down to kiss your nose.

“The answer is going to stay no, sweet thing. I don’t care how much you beg.”

He’s already gently sliding you off of him and getting out of bed as you pout. A few moments pass, and you can’t think of a good retort as he moves about the room, gathering a towel for his shower and digging through the dresser.

“You’re mean.”

“Aw, poor baby. You only got to come once. Nobody has ever had a harder life than you.” Spencer dodges the pillow you throw and laughs, coming back to lean over the bed as you glower at him. “I’m sorry I woke you up. If you can’t fall back asleep in the time it takes me to shower, I’ll make you fancy coffee.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll be extra nice to you when I get home.” He kisses your head and then your lips, and then disappears into the bathroom.

In a completely predictable turn of events, you’re dead to the world by the time he gets out of the shower. He makes you the fancy coffee anyway, leaving it in a thermos on your nightstand.

He’s late to work. He can't pretend to be sorry.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds

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i-like-writing-stuff · 11 months ago

Text

the other five [ five hargreeves x reader ]

request: Hello! This is my first time desperately requesting a fic because the new season is SO bad 😭 Can you write a fic where the reader finds out about everything that happened between Five & Lila and then she gets taken away by one of the Fives at the deli and promising her that he’ll treat her better than OG Five (You can also add a part where OG Five finds out about this and lives to regret it)

a/n: AU where everything in that trash season was the same, except when five made the first jump in s1 he made it in his 32 yr old body bc i will not have y/n pull a zach justice (lmao)

even if lila did 😭😭

anyways basically everyone is the same age

i like to think of the five that comforts y/n as the five that explained everything to five in the last episode because that one literally felt like the five we were supposed to get, the five that was there all the first three seasons

sorry i cant stop trashing this season you guys 😭 i’m just so disappointed

summary: after breaking up with five, you make up with… well, five

part two

“Leave me alone, Five!” You yelled in despair, pushing the man before you away, “Actually, first take me back home, you psycho! I have nothing to say to you!”

“Y/N, please, just hear me out!” Five tried to reason with you, as if anything he would say could make your heart glue itself back.

You were standing in the subway station after Five had blinked himself and you away from the family- or what was left of it, watching him at loss of words. You didn’t recognize the man before your eyes, as much as you tried. You didn’t even have time to gather all your thoughts since there was yet another impending apocalypse on its way, so your mind was completely all over the place.

Five Hargreeves was not the same Five Hargreeves you fell in love with all those years ago. He was not the same man who had stolen your heart and made you feel like you were the most precious person in the world. He wasn’t your partner anymore, he wasn’t your lover. Your boyfriend wasn’t there. You looked at this person and there was a stranger, acting as if he was the same who had hugged you, held your hand, kissed you all those many times. You were questioning everything about him now.

“Take me back!” You yelled again, ignoring his same pleas, curling your hand in a fist, “I’m this fucking close to making you ash!”

As your pure anger got the best of you, you were ready to let your powers take over for a second. Obviously you weren’t actually going to hurt him, no matter how much you wanted him to feel your pain, at least physically.

You met him six years ago, during the first time you tried to stop the apocalypse. You were also one of the extraordinary kids, but luckily enough, Reginald Hargreeves didn’t manage to adopt you- more so, purchase you. You only met Five not long after he managed to time travel back to his family in 2019 after spending all those decades by himself. Before you knew it, you were dragged into the Hargreeves family and your relationship soon after developed.

Your six year relationship that was so merry a few hours ago. Now it was crumbled, trashed.

What hurt was that it was six years only to you. Five managed to block himself seven years away from you, only in the presence of Lila.

“This is so fucking stupid,” You scoffed, fighting back the tears in your eyes, “It’s fucking over! Do you want me to spell it out for you?!”

“I want you to listen!” Five didn’t give up on arguing, “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“You didn’t want to see me again!” You screamed, wailing your hands in the air, “Fucking save it- It’s over! I don’t want to ever see you again if we survive this apocalypse! You ruined our relationship, you ruined your brother’s marriage, family! For fucking Lila!”

You hated him absolutely. The mere thought of his infidelity, of the nerve to act as if he still loved you, it was all despicable.

You grew to love all of your boyfriend’s siblings, and also your nieces and nephews, even if you and Five were not yet married. You planned to be a part of the family officially, but still wanted to focus on your careers, you wanted to adjust yourself to your old life, back to your origins.

“Y/N, please!” He tried to step, towards you, but you started stepping away.

Thoughtlessly, because of all your anger, you just walked towards the first train approaching you, fully intending to be away from him at whatever cost.

“If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll fucking find my own way!” You hopped onto the train, watching as he tried to catch up with you.

But he was too late.

In hindsight, maybe it was not the smartest idea, but you were just so devastated nothing made sense to you anymore. You spent the past six years thinking that you are set for the rest of your life, now that the world wasn’t ending anymore. You reconnected with your family, you built a career for yourself and were living happily with Five, you had literally just finished settling yourself in the new house you bought together. You couldn’t understand how he could do this to you.

You couldn’t understand how Lila could betray your friendship either, especially Diego and their kids.

You tried to make it make sense, be reasonable- it was only a few hours to you, but they were lost in this subway system for seven years.

But then again, Five was lost in the future 45 years by himself and he didn’t give up on trying to return to his family once.

Now he did, he gave up on trying to return to you.

That’s definitely another aspect that stung.

“Fucking piece of shit,” You mumbled, as the train approached its first station, “How do I fucking get out of here?”

You stumbled out of the sub, taking in your surroundings. It was yet another crumbled down station, but if you were to be at least a tiny bit fair, it was maybe a bit better kept. You looked around curiously, trying to figure out where to go from now on. Your fire-based superpowers were totally useless in this situation, so you hated to admit that you were in a bit of a pickle.

You rolled your eyes, as Five rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks, watching you with widened eyes.

“You again?” You sighed angrily, “Take me back or get out of my sight, Five.”

Five raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets curiously. He didn’t say a word yet, as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He slowly stepped towards you, not taking his eyes off you once. For a split second, you stopped as well, sending that something was up.

You took in his features, trying to make sense of what was going on, realizing that he didn’t have a coat on him. He was wearing the exact three piece suit an black tie, he was wearing the same silver watch on his left hand, but he didn’t have his coat on.

“Y/N,” He smiled, stopping in front of you, “I never thought I’d see you again, more so here.”

“What the fuck is going on?” You calmly asked, over-analyzing the man before you.

His smile didn’t drop. It was a genuine one, a smile you hadn’t seen in a while. Things between you and Five were okay a few hours ago, but he hadn’t watched you with this look since you first met. His eyes were sincere, taking in every single feature of yours, traveling all over your body.

“I take it your Five danced the devil’s tango with Lila,” He sighed deeply, raising a hand to gently brush away your tears.

When did you even start crying?

Your mind was scrambled all over the place, but at that exact moment you couldn’t say another word. You just melted into his touch, feeling warmth. It really hadn’t been that long since Five touched you, but this touch felt different. His hand rested on your cheek, as his thumb caressed you lightly. His touch was so intoxicatingly sweet, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m so sorry I’m a literal shitface in some other timelines,” He lightly shook his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on?” You asked once again, calmer this time.

For whatever reason, you relaxed in an instant. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his gentle touch or simply his presence. Ironic, since just ten minutes ago you were ready to set him on fire.

“Come with me, my love,” Five said, grabbing your hand in his, “I’ll explain everything.”

You didn’t fight his touch, locking your fingers with his. None of you said a word, as you watched you hands fit so perfectly in one another. How could your relationship be over when you were so good together?

You followed Five through the subway station, rounding the same corner he appeared from. You watched as he turned his head to give you a reassuring smile, lightly squeezing your hand in comfort.

After a few more steps and going down a couple of stairs, you widened your eyes seeing a literal deli tucked away in this godforsaken out of order subway system. The headlights above the front entrance were lit up, writing Max’s Delicatessen. You saw inside a huddle of people as you entered, gathering everyone’s attention.

When they all turned to look at you, you literally couldn’t tell whether you or the huddle of people was more shocked.

They were all Fives.

There was music playing inside, as the deli was full of different versions of your boyfriend, whether they were customers sitting at the tables, drinking coffee or having a meal, reading the newspaper or having a chat. There were also other Fives working around, waiting tables or cooking in the back.

Nonetheless, they all stopped to look at you.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N is here, carry on, you guys,” The Five that was holding your hand waved the others off with his free hand, “She needs a moment, stop being creeps.”

“I can’t tell if this is a dream come true or my worst nightmare,” You said, looking around the deli, as Five guided you towards an empty booth.

You sat down as the other picked up again whatever they were doing, still watching you with the corner of their eyes. Five took a seat in front of you, still holding onto your hand on top of the table, using his other hand to rub small circles on your skin.

“I am not the Five that dragged you here, in case you didn’t tell yet,” Five managed to say, “But I’m pretty sure that you did, since I know you’re smarter than he gives you credit for.”

“He did mention that this subway system is the knot to multiple timelines,” You sighed, as Waiter Five set down two cups of steaming coffee on the table.

You watched him curiously, as he looked yet again exactly like Five, wearing just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with a black tie, pantsuit pants and a server apron around the waist. He smiled at you warmly, setting down two small packs of sugar and a creamer.

“I’m sorry, my love, we don’t have any Irish Capuccinos around here, since you’re the first Y/N to set foot in here,” He apologetically smiled, “I can only get you a shot of whiskey, if you’d like.”

Of course they all knew your favorite coffee.

“Make it a bottle,” You said, cracking a smile for the first time, causing him to chuckle, before walking away to attend to your order.

“I can’t begin to explain how much I missed your smile, darling,” The Five before you said, as you turned back to him, “The Handler got to the Y/N in my timeline,” He added, as sadness took over his eyes, “I missed you so much.”

“I can’t understand how you’re the same Five that fell in love with Lila,” You said, before quickly adding, “I mean- technically, you’re not, but still.”

“Everyone around here is a different version of me, from a different timeline,” He said, “I’m one of the many that didn’t go down that road.”

“Thank you, I guess,” You laughed, making him smile again.

What a sweet smile it was.

“When I lost you, I was a total wreck,” He confessed, as you couldn’t help but place your other hand on top of his, “I love you so much, Y/N, I could never hurt you like that no matter what. This is all such a fucked up turn of events, but when I saw you coming out of that train, my mind froze.”

“I love you too, Five,” You said, “But I need to wrap my head around what is going on- Everything is insane, I mean I’m right now in the middle of yet another apocalypse, I just found out that you love Lila and there’s just so fucking many of you.”

“I know, my love, I know,” Five nodded, “I wouldn’t dare to ask you accept everything so fast, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Can you just… hold me?” You asked, watching as he didn’t waste another second and got up to slide ne t yo you in the booth.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, he used his other one to caress your hair. You nuzzled your face into his shirt, taking in his scent, as you felt a wave of certitude wash over you. Five held you tightly into his arms, embracing you after years of your absence. He was grateful to have you in his arms once again.

And he was not about to let go anytime soon.

“I’ll always hold you, my love,” Five muttered, peppering small kisses in your hair.

The Five from your timeline watched from behind the window as you took comfort in his arms, but not exactly his arms.

This was only the beginning of his lifelong regret.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five x reader #the umbrella academy season 4 #the umbrella academy imagines #tua x reader #tua season 4 #tua netflix

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