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[smoochiepoochindiana]

Basic Dog Grooming Tips For Pet Parents At Home

Are you wondering how often your dog needs to visit the local dog groomers? The answer varies from breed to breed – however, most dogs will benefit from grooming appointments approximately every six weeks. It’s important to determine your dog’s grooming needs to stay on top of their overall health and well-being.

In-between professional grooming appointments, there are steps you can take at home to help keep your dog feeling and looking great.

Tips for Dog Grooming at Home Between Appointments

Your dog’s groomer can guide you in the steps that will support your pet’s specific grooming needs. This includes their recommendations on the basic supplies you’ll need for a simple grooming routine. Then, you’ll be set to take on some grooming tasks at home, such as:

Brushing: Many dogs will benefit from being brushed daily or on alternate days. With regular brushing, you can help to preserve your dog’s last groom from local dog groomers, while also working to reduce shedding and prevent matting. Brushing at home can also help your dog become more comfortable with grooming and their visits to dog grooming in your area.

Nail clipping: If you’re looking to trim your dog’s nails at home between appointments, there are few things to consider. First, it’s important to understand the parts of a dog’s nail along with how and where you should trim. Read these helpful tips about what you need to know about dog nail clipping for more information and steps you can follow.

Bathing: If you are comfortable bathing your dog at home, ensure you use quality bath products. Your groomer can help you with this selection, so that you can support your pet’s specific needs in between grooming appointments.

Skin care: Staying on top care for your dog’s skin and coat is an important part of dog grooming. Be sure to monitor for any issues such as licking or itching. You’ll also want to be aware of issues that need immediate attention such as redness, parasite bites, or matting – and seek support from your groomer and veterinarian

Dog Grooming Near You in Indiana

When it’s time for your dog’s next professional grooming appointment, choose Smoochie Pooch for trusted, quality care. You can select your most convenient location in Indiana or choose mobile grooming. With mobile grooming, we deliver personalized grooming to your location for your convenience.

Source: https://smoochie-pooch.com/basic-dog-grooming-tips-for-pet-parents-at-home/

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[hellenhighwater]

So, every animal shelter around me is heinously overloaded/understaffed and begging for fosters. I am considering applying to be one for a momma cat with kittens, but I don't know if I have enough space/time/energy to do so and don't know anyone I can ask IRL about the experience. Are you willing to go into detail about what exactly foster duty entails? Also, do the fosters coexist peacefully with Malice and Vice or do you need to keep them separated?

Fostering can be a relatively small time investment, or it can be a big one. Nearly every shelter hits capacity in the warm months, due to the overwhelming quantity of kittens.

I talked to my local shelter and explained that I don't have a ton of time to work with--I can't take neonatal kittens, or ones that need regular hand feeding, or basically anyone medically fragile. But I can take litters that are doing well, who just need time and space to grow big enough to hit the minimum weight to be spayed/neutered and adopted. On a daily basis, I swap out water, food, and clean litter, plus general tidying-up as needed. That takes maaaybe half an hour to an hour--most days I do it before work. Because most of my litters have moms, the moms do a lot of the work of feeding and cleaning the babies! They may need bathing sometimes, depending on how much of a mess they make. Beyond that, I try to spend time with them as much as I can--I'll go in and eat my meals with them, sit and do digital work, or watch movies while I do projects with them around. The goal is to socialize and handle them as much as you can.

Kittens generally litter train themselves, but accidents happen when they're little, so a space with easily cleaned floors is ideal. I start my fosters out in a jumbo sized dog crate, allowing for supervised time outside of that, and then eventually give them my whole den to run around in when they're old enough to be more independently mobile (basically when they're old enough to realize that losing sight of their mom does not mean they're lost forever, and can navigate the space on their own.) I do keep Mal and Vice out of the den when I have fosters, but there's a glass door so theycan see each other.

Most shelters with foster programs will supply everything you need for them in terms of food, meds, and litter--you just give them space and time. I got my own jumbo dog crate to use, and I pick up secondhand towels for cheap--that gives me something easy to wash for them to sleep on. If you're just getting started, a shelter can probably find you an "easy" litter to begin with. Not that there's ever a 100% guarantee, because kittens are fragile, but usually they can set up a litter that seems strong. At least for me, there's an urge to play the hero and take on too much--I have to be careful, and accept that I only have so much time to work with; I have to say no to some of the more tiny, delicate kittens, and leave them to be fostered by those who can handle them. Those people are awesome and I'm not one of them.

If you're setting up space for fosters, I'd choose a place that's easy to clean, that's not going to leave them vulnerable to being bothered by other animals or kids all the time (they sleep a lot), and which allows for you to spend time with them. You can keep your fosters in a large dog crate or other kennel--honestly, it's comparable to how the shelter would house them--or in a room you have set up to handle them, but I'd hesitate to give them complete free run of your place unless you live somewhere quite small. Kittens are fast, and you really don't want to lose one. I remove rugs and less durable furniture from their space as well, and sometimes will cover the couch in a thick blanket to reduce claw marks.

Overall, I think it's totally worth it. It's fun to get to have them through the baby days, and they have more individualized attention in a home than they would get at the shelter. It's worth trying! If it doesn't pan out--or if they start needing more attention than you can give--you can give them back, but in the meanwhile they have a more enjoyable home than a shelter.

[blkkizzat]

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 6.5k of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: This is my first kinktober fic! I'm sorry this took so long y'all but last week been low key hell and I was sick for a lot of it. Also I did struggle with this a bit since this one I decided to do as an whole fic instead of PWP and now its gotten to be so long its definitely going to be in two parts. Sorry there's no smut in the first part, but there is some fluff and some juicy build up. I've never written for Choso before but he's so baby girl omg I'm obsessed with him now but still I'm a bit nervous posting this. sorry if its dog.

Enjoy!

“Ever felt a knife rip through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?”

Those were the last words a nameless student heard before Ghostface's hunting knife shined menacingly in the air and came down to claim its newest victim.

Shluk! Shluk! Shluk!

Metal slashed through flesh with razor precision.

Gurgled death cries are silenced as the lifeless body collapses to the ground. 

A thick pool of blood began gathering around them to fan out and travel around their body down the slanted titled floor to drain. 

Choso breathed in deeply. 

A wave of calm washed over him. 

Peace. 

Almost in an enlightened state, he felt the most serene after a kill. 

It was beautiful. 

Blood was beautiful.

The surging stream of blood that would eventually slow to a trickle, the abstract designs of its splatter and the way it swirled around the body splayed across the ground like paint on a canvas.

Like a painting. 

A death painting… and the knife, his paintbrush. 

This was his art.

Choso can recall the first time he actually saw blood beyond a minor scrape. 

He couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. No doubt trying to impress his younger brother Yuji by balancing on top of the monkey bars. After all this time Choso isn’t certain as to how, but he lost his footing and fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Screams of children filled the area once Choso pushed himself up onto his feet. He immediately felt wetness rush down his face. However, rather than cry or panic a young Choso cocked his head curiously when he noticed his reflection on the metal jungle gym. A warped view of his face mirrored back at him but he could still make out the bright red fluid cascading down his features staining him in red. 

Choso didn’t know how long he stood transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of rouge river that flowed from him until Yuji ran back crying with their parents in tow. 

It was how he had the scar across the bridge of his nose till this day, which became unsightly enough he had decided to get a black bar tattooed over it as soon as he turned 18. 

From then on he couldn’t deny his growing obsession with blood and seeing it leave the human body. All of which had led him here to this university to attain a PHD in Forensics. 

He picked this university, not only for their program but it was the perfect small town playground for Ghostface, a local urban legend from years ago he decided to revive once he felt as he had attained enough knowledge not to get caught.  

Choso was meticulous in his process. 

Ironclad alibis, no distinctive patterns and no victims with any connections to each other, nor him. Additionally, he had memorized all the angles of the university’s security system (thanks to a security guard he had bribed then promptly killed). 

His victims' lives were just his means to an end for his art and most students on this campus wouldn’t amount to much anyway outside of that was how he justified it. Choso did like toying with them on occasion though, fear made the blood pump faster and spray harder once he finally did catch them. 

Sadly, he could never admire his creations for too long though before needing to make his own exit. 

Almost midnight. 

Ten more minutes before campus security makes another round.

He took one last glance at the scene of carnage he had created before disappearing into the night. 

☠

In just a mere 2 hours, the news of another Ghostface murder spread across campus. 

The university’s students were either scared, scattering back to barricade themselves in their dorms. Or curious, lingering around the crime scene near the safety of the news crews and reporters who had gathered to see who the unlucky victim was this time.

No one however, is likely more curious than you: A third year forensics undergrad, who was just itching to get a real glimpse of your first real crime scene, a Ghostface copycat killer crime scene at that! 

You had even left a huge frat party (to be fair it was about to get broken up soon anyway) to trek across campus in the bitter cold of late fall. 

“Y/N, let’s go back–,” one of your pledges whined, “–it’s cold and my feet hurt in these heels!”

“Shh, Stassi, shut up! What if this is an initiation test?” another pledge whispered. 

Your sorority pledges chatter on behind you and you almost forgot you brought them along. It’s not like you wanted to but, like it or not, they were attached to you at the hip like little ducklings until rush was over.

With a clap you turn on your heel to address them.

“Ladies–” 

However you abruptly stop once you see your Forensics TA, Choso Kamo, taking what appeared to be a night jog across the campus quad. 

Was he going to the crime scene too? Your face instantly lights up and your pledges look around confused.

“Wait here girlies! I’ll be 5 minutes max…. No, I mean it. Wait right here!”    

Your pledges huff quietly, but agree. 

They had no choice really as you were already skipping as fast as your not-so-sober legs would carry you in 5-inch pumps over the quad lawn. Truthfully, that was not something they were trying to do too, especially not to chase down what looked like some creepy emo nerd.

“Choso!”

You call out to him and wave, but he doesn’t look like he sees you as you hurry towards him.

“Hey Choooo! Wait up!”  You puffed out, trying to maneuver over the grass in your heels. 

Choso sighed recognizing your voice, reluctantly slowing his pace. He would have kept on jogging but he knew you would keep calling out to him and draw even more attention that he really didn’t need right now.

Finally catching up to him, you grab Choso’s arm and loop yours through. He flinched slightly at your touch but you knew he always seemed a bit jumpy when it came to physical contact, so this didn’t phase you. 

If anything you thought his reactions were kinda cute.

“Where are you going weirdo? All the action is back that way!” You teased with a big grin and pointed in the direction of the crime scene.

Choso tries to ignore how his adrenaline was pumping even faster from you holding on to him than when he was running, especially dressed as you were. 

You looked sexy as hell utterly ridiculous.

You were decked out in a sailor costume, which was pretty much just a poor excuse for lingerie at this point. Your white sailor flap collar attached to nothing more than a sparkly navy bra with shiney white and red trims, leaving your midsection exposed showing your cute little belly ring in the shape of an anchor. 

This was complemented by a dangerously short yet matching sparkling navy pleated skirt which sat low on your thick hips. Your shapely legs were the most covered part of your body yet still looked overwhelmingly tempting in red glittery garters, attached to white opaque stockings in glittery red heels.

“I’m the weirdo… but you’re dressed like that in 40 degree weather.” Choso retorted, brow raised.

“Duh Choso–” 

You released his arm to give him a twirl in your outfit, not noticing the way he nervously wet his lips watching your skirt rise with your little spin.

“–The ‘Get Nauti’ party was tonight silly, where have you been!?”

Oh you know, just casually killing someone. Choso resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Of course he knew about the party. 

The campus had been littered with fliers for ‘Get Nauti’ for the past two weeks. Nothing Choso would ever be interested in as he would rather stab himself in the face than attend a mind-numbing party with a bunch of bro-for-brain frat guys. 

However, he did take advantage of the opportunity to create another death painting as Ghostface with the rest of campus preoccupied. 

He couldn’t tell you that though obviously.

“Gym,” Choso said flatly and shrugged, “Heading back to the dorms n-”

“–You mean you aren't going to the Social Sciences building!? Don’t you remember?!” You cut him off in your excitement. 

“The police said they would let us forensic students look at the next crime scene!”

Your face had a warm glow and your movements slightly swayed. You were clearly drunk.

“No Y/N, they said they might let the PhD students, like me, look at the crime scene… and that was only a slim ‘maybe’. You’re still just an undergrad”, he reminded you, much to your dismay as you puffed your cheeks.

But seriously, Choso thought, even the incompetent local police would have enough sense not to let you on the crime scene dressed as you are now, even if you were a PhD student. 

“Awe no fair,” you whine dejectedly. “But you should go, Cho! Then you can tell me all about it! Pleaseeee, I’m dying to know what a Ghostface crime scene looks like. I hear it’s kinda gruesome!”

You gazed up at Choso through fluttering long lashes as you poked out your cherry glossed lips. It was a pout that could famously leave any frat boy at your mercy, but it never seemed to stir Choso much (that you could tell at least).

Choso swallowed. 

On the contrary, your charms worked rather well on him. His mouth was dry and he unconsciously clenched and unclenched a sweat ridden palm behind his back. 

The hell were you doing being this excited over a crime scene? One of his crime scenes for that matter? 

Choso really didn’t know what to make of that.

“Y/N it’s late. I still have papers to grade. I’m going back to my dorm now and you should get home too,” Choso said flatly, trying to keep his cool although fatigue was etched into his voice.

He was in peak physical form but still feeling the strain given he just chased his last victim all over the Social Sciences building. Not to mention still having assignments to grade. All which would be fine if he also wasn’t on edge from you right now as well.

“Booooo…Choso yo– ahchoo!” You sneezed from the cold. 

The effects of alcohol could only do so much to keep you warm in these low temperatures while you were standing still. 

With another sigh Choso unzipped his black track jacket, taking it off and putting it around your shoulders. 

He was doing so as much for your sake as his own. Choso couldn’t help but notice your boobs looking like they were going to pop out of your flimsy sailor bra at any moment when you folded your arms underneath them for warmth.

He was really doing his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“Awe thanks Cho, you’re so chivalrous!” You giggled, blushing as you snuggled into his jacket. 

You could still feel his body heat lingering on the material but the heady scent of oak and sandwood from his cologne warmed you even more.

You also couldn’t help but stare as the black compression turtleneck he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. You had suspicions he was fit but you never saw him wear anything beyond his dark colored button ups and shaggy sweaters when in class. 

“Now go home, Y/N. You shouldn’t even be out here alone this late.” 

Choso’s stern voice snapped you out of your ogling.

“But I’m not alone silly!” 

You pointed to the group of scared and shivering freshmen girls also in various states of sparkly undress all for the sake of ‘getting nauti’ standing on a paved path not too far off. 

They looked absolutely miserable. 

“I have my pledges!” 

Choso gave you an incredulous look. You were too clueless. 

“So let me get this straight… You are drunk. You have drunk freshmen with you, who shouldn’t even be drinking in the first place…and you plan on taking them to a murder scene? Where the cops are?” You made an “OH” face and absentmindedly laughed as you came to the realization it probably wasn’t the best look for Chapter VP of the AKAs to take a bunch of drunk and terrified freshmen pledges straight into a recent crime scene. Even if you could put an academic spin on it as it was relevant to your major classes.

Yikes, and on second thought, your house mom would flip her entire shit if she found out.

“Go home Y/N,” Choso said again, shaking his head.

“Besides, you should be more focused on the Chemistry lab midterm on Monday. You know you can’t afford to fail.”

You sulked but relented, he was right. On both accounts.

As your T.A. for that class Choso knew better than anyone just how much your grade depended on passing that lab and you hadn’t even so much as glanced at your notes yet this week.

“Aye Aye, Capitan Choso, sir!” you teased giving him a salute with a wink and lifted knee, your sailor skirt lifting a bit higher.

It was a cute move, or it would have been at least if it hadn't caused your weight to shift all on to one foot. The heel of the sparkly red glitter pump baring your weight sunk into the patch of soft soil beneath you causing your foot to pop out of the shoe as you tumble forward. 

You would have definitely ate shit and embarrassed yourself in front of Choso, your pledges and whoever else was walking across the quad at this time of night if Choso’s quick reflexes didn’t catch you. 

You let out a squeak and waved your arms as you fell tits first onto Choso’s hard chest. 

Shit. 

Choso could feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through the flimsyass costume you wore. He tried hard to focus on how cold it was outside. Anything rather than how warm your body felt up against him or how his biceps tensed from the tight grip of your delicate fingers that sought stability from him.

You grinned sheepishly. You thanked him for catching you not realizing the position you were in nor the torment you were putting this man through.

Setting you upright quickly, Choso crouched down to retrieve your shoe. 

His plan was to simply place it near your foot but he felt your hand land on his shoulder and you raised your dainty foot up expectantly.

Any attempts to avert his gaze proved futile as Choso couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up the length of your leg. 

Your opaque white stockings practically glowed in the darkness illuminating the shapely calves it covered and thick thighs the tight material cut into. Your hips strained against your garters up until your –he caught himself and his eyes snapped up immediately.

He was a killer, not a perv at least he was trying not to be.

Gingerly making sure to only touch your ankle, you were giggling again as he put your shoe on your foot and placed it on the grass again.

“Thanks Choso! You really are a lifesaver, ya know! I can’t bend down in this skirt.”

“Don’t mention it.” Choso quickly replied, pushing his bangs out of his face in exasperation. 

Really don’t. 

Choso was trying to forget the flash of red lace he saw that barely covered your plump pu– No he had to stop, you were technically his student even if he was just a T.A.

He would surely have to kill you if he popped a boner right now. He was trying to keep a low profile already and did not need to add ‘sexual deviant' to his name from a student harassment claim.

“For real now, go home Y/N.” Choso silently pleaded you would just listen this time. 

He always felt more compulsive right after a kill and didn’t know what he would do if you stayed around him like this much longer.

You finally relented to his relief, nodding and mumbling a sad little goodnight pulling his jacket around your shoulders tighter as you turned to leave back to your pledges. 

Choso started to leave as well but your voice stopped him as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You know Choso…” You smoothed your skirt down behind you and flashed him a pageant winning smile, “I don’t mind that you saw them.”

Before Choso’s short-circuiting brain could even process what you said you were bouncing off back to your pledges. “Okay ladies, now make like Bey and get in formation! Back to the Soro house!” 

Your pledges erupted with various replies from– 

‘Thank God!’’ 

‘Did you just go over there to steal that nerd’s jacket? Boss!’’

‘Was that your boyfriend, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’s bf is a starter on the football team, she doesn’t want that weird emo dork.’

‘No, sis did you see his muscles– That emo look is still kinda hot right now, huh Y/N?’ 

‘Awe, but I want to go back to the frat!’ 

–all fluttered from the group of chattering girls as you cheerily led them back to the Sorority house. 

You laughed at their comments hoping Choso couldn’t hear them though, as they were a bit embarrassing. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was no way for Choso not to hear your rowdy group of drunk giggling girls, he’s sure the whole quad did. 

Choso rolled his eyes as a chill took over him as he started the jog back to his dorms. 

He was glad he had given you his jacket though. The way his body had started to respond to you just now the frigid jog back to the dorms would do him good. 

He just wanted to shower, grade a few papers then go to bed, he didn’t want to end up fisting his cock to you again tonight. 

You had plagued his peace for too long. It wouldn’t do him any good to think of you, it’s not like he could ever have you. 

Sure you went to the same university but you might as well have been from two different worlds. 

You were a popular sorority undergrad with the attention of virtually the entire male population on campus. 

Choso was a PhD student who was used to fading in the background, most avoided him due his looks and academic focus anyway. 

He only had an affiliation with you because his scholarships were tied to being a T.A. for undergrad forensics classes. 

Also you did have a boyfriend. 

An asshole neanderthal football-wide-receiver boyfriend who he would have been tempted to kill already had he not served his own purpose as a reality check and barrier for Choso.

Oh and had an eccentric obsession with blood going for him and was also the Ghostface copycat killer, that too. 

He was sure that would go over well with you, Choso mused sarcastically.

☠

Upon returning to his dorm Choso took a shower, graded papers and tried to fall asleep but inevitably jerked his cock off to you.

Twice. 

The sounds and images of your ditzy little laugh and skippy little panties consumed him as soon as he closed his eyes. The phantom feeling of the way your nipples felt pressed against his chest and how you clung to him desperately had him feeling near insatiable. 

Choso admittedly thinks of killing you often. Just to get some peace of mind.

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to pull off. It’s not like you could put up much of a fight against him.

He didn’t want to break his rule of killing anyone with a connection to him but Choso had also never had anyone stir him the way you did. 

You were a distraction and liability to him. If he killed you he could finally stop thinking about you…right?

You would make a beautiful death painting too.

Choso imagines thick red blood splattered across your curves. 

The fatal gash from the femoral artery in your thigh oozing out a continuous stream of blood. The cut would have to be considerably deep too considering how meaty your thighs were. 

Would the blood streak down your long leg as you desperately tried to hobble away from him in your slutty red heels?

Or would you collapse in fear and surrender to him fully? Landing in such a way that allowed the blood to redirect backwards and soil the flimsy red panties poorly concealing the fat of your cunt as you cried out in fear.

Fuck. 

He was hard again. 

He reached over to his night stand for his lotion bottle– practically empty thanks to his nonstop fantasies of you.

God, he was pathetic.

☠

The school week that followed was relatively uneventful. 

You passed your lab midterms much to Choso’s surprise. Although you always seemed to pass with a relatively decent grade despite how you struggled to get there. Holding firm to your B average in the class and 3.3 GPA in your major overall.

He had to admit you were a better student than he originally gave you credit for. It makes him recall when he first saw you last spring. 

You were a late enroll to Forensic Biology 101. Not only that, you burst into the third class of the semester nearly 15 minutes late.

Oblivious to all the eyes your disruption earned, you leaned on your knees as your chest heaved from exertion giving the entire class an amazing view of your tits spilling from your pink crop top adorned with the prestigious “AKA” sorority. 

You definitely would have given the class an additional show from bending over in your tight green jean skirt had your ass not been facing the door. Choso eyes couldn't help but travel down the length of your legs, your glossy white painted toes peeking out strappy pink pumps. 

You smiled brightly once you caught your breath and apologized for your late entrance but you were newly voted chapter vice president and had just come from your first meeting. 

Surely you had the wrong classroom.

“Er– this class is Forensic Biology 101 young lady.” The older male professor had given you a once over also thinking you must be lost.

“Mhm, yup! I’m Y/N! I just changed my major!” you beamed and handed the professor your schedule.

He looked at it and back at you twice.

“Hm, well so it is…but you are already behind, little lady. Go and take a seat next to the T.A. in the back, Choso Kamo, he will catch you up.”

Just his luck. Choso didn’t want to babysit some sorority bimbo who would probably drop this class in two weeks once the labs started. 

Your university was famous for the forensics program. If you graduated you were all but guaranteed a job at a prominent lab in a major city but more than two thirds of undergrad students dropped it once the rigorous labs began. 

You didn’t look like you would last.

Especially when you told him your interest in forensics came from watching Dexter. You told him how you thought the actor was hott and how his kill rooms were ‘so cool.’ Choso definitely rolled his eyes at that and wrote you off as a soon-to-be drop out.

You proved him wrong though. 

You were a bit of a ditz and a huge clutz but Choso came to understand t's more because you had about a billion different things going on in your head at once rather than you just being dumb or careless. 

You were also a hard worker. 

It was admirable how many activities you were involved in yet still tried as hard as you did in your classes. You always came to his T.A. review sessions and even sought him out at times while he was in the research library to ask him questions. 

You were a good student and he was a horrible T.A. for even thinking of you in this way. 

The campus bell tower struck noon in the distance and Choso looked down to see that he had only read a single paragraph since he sat down to study thirty minutes ago.

Fuck, he had lost himself in thinking about you again. 

Choso put a hand over his face. 

He was sitting alone at a picnic table on the outer, less populated edges of the quad trying to read a textbook but every time he heard a high pitched giggle he snapped his head up thinking it was you.

Class schedules were a bit different due to midterms and he hadn’t seen you the entire week other than to administer the lab but that didn’t mean you didn’t still plague his thoughts more increasingly as of late.

It was making Choso a bit reckless. 

Needing to relieve stress he had created 2 more death paintings. A mistake as it was rumored the local police would soon reach out to bigger towns for more help and perhaps even the FBI would send an agent soon to campus if this kept up. 

He had to move more carefully. 

Maybe make it look like there were multiple Ghostface killers for starters.

“3 Victims, One Week: The Copycat Ghostface Reign of Terror Continues!” 

You read aloud adding a bit of dramatic flair to your voice as you recite the front headline of the campus paper and jar Choso from his thoughts of you. 

Speak of the devil.

You approached Choso at his table and he immediately noticed you were wearing his jacket again, well more like swimming in it as it was clearly too big for you.

This time though you were bundled up in a scarf, leggings and heeled booties. He was glad his face was already a bit red from sitting out in the cold because he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from forming that you looked even sexier cozied up and comfortable in his jacket than in the slutty sailor costume.

“I don’t know why you even bother reading that shit Y/N. They never have any interesting details anyway.” Choso tried to feign disinterest in your arrival but his leg was already slightly bouncing under the table, nervous energy returning.

“Well I have to! You wouldn’t go to the crime scene for me last Saturday, remember?”

How could he forget?  

However a part of him did want you to view it though, his masterpieces, his kills. 

See how glorious their blood looked sprayed on the walls, the ground, and the general surroundings of his victims. 

But he knew you’d never appreciate them the way he did even if you were a forensics student.

“Oh and sorry!” 

You interrupted his thoughts once again.

“I meant to give you back your jacket, I’ve been carrying it with me hoping I’d run into you but I ran out today and forgot mine…whoops! I hope you don’t mind me wearing yours a bit longer?”

Your saccharine smile has Choso sucking in a hard breath. 

At this point he would prefer you to just keep it, he couldn’t trust himself if he had it back with your scent all over it knowing you had been carrying it around all week.

He would never know any peace.

“Keep it as long as you need.”

“Kay!”

You smile at him as you haphazardly plop your overstuffed tote bag down next to him, which of course spilled all its colorful contents all over the table. 

“Oh Crap!” 

You lean over to reach for your bag but almost spill the tray of hot coffees in your hand.

“Y/N, Watch out!” 

Choso grabbed the tray before it could spill all over his and your belongings and sat it down on the table with a small exhale.

“Oh! Thank you!” You flash him a big grin. “I got this one for you!” 

You handed him a grande cup with ‘pumpkin spice dirty chai’ scribbled on it.

Choso preferred his coffee black and he has definitely told you that before but you always just brought him whatever sugary drink you ordered saying he needed to ‘try new things’. 

He wasn’t about to turn you down though, caffeine was caffeine and as a PhD student he needed all he could get. Choso also knew it was your way of thanking him for helping you so much in forensics.  

“Thanks...” Choso mumbled taking a sip. Shit this is actually good.

You sat down next to him, a little too close for comfort with your spandex clad thigh brushing up against his leg.

“Whatcha reading? Is it for your thesis?” You were perilously close leaning on him as you looked over his broad shoulder onto his textbook.

“Yeah, some forensics texts I need to review for citations. This section focuses on serology and bloodstain pattern analysis,” Choso stated knowledgably. 

“Oh! Like in Dexter!” 

“Yeah, Y/N, like in Dexter.” 

Maybe Choso is growing a bit soft as he can’t resist but to crack a small smile at your kid-like-enthusiasm for the subject, you were incorrigible. 

Choso also doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle when you ask him to tell you more about his research. 

And so he does.

Sometimes Choso forgets how easy you are to talk on the subject. To be frank no one outside his own PHD program ever asks him about his thesis so before he realizes it he’s letting his guard down to indulge you.

You both get so lost in the conversation to the point it hasn’t even phased Choso yet that you are now actually leaning on him. 

Your soft cheek rests near his shoulder and your body angles deeper into his as you point to ask him about a passage on the page which he begins to break down.  

You try to focus on his words but in the midst of Choso’s explanation your eyes stray from the text up to his face. 

You feel your body start to warm.You always thought he was attractive. His dark looks never deterred you if anything they were refreshing from the crew cut preppy jocks around you. Even more so with his piercings in.

Choso never wore any of his piercings during classes or while in the research library. You counted six facial piercings in total from the three on his brows to the septum, labret and finally the black bar piercing through his tongue that darted out exposed with the movements of his mouth. 

Studying him further you discover for the first time his tattoo across the bridge of his nose was actually covering a scar. It looked old but like it had been deep. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had hurt him and why he chose to cover it. 

You didn’t even realize you had reached out to touch it until you felt his gaze snap to you. 

Stunned and a bit embarrassed, you withdraw your hand.

“Ah, sorry I just noticed your tattoo was covering a scar…” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed with you.

Annoyance was the last thing on Choso’s mind as finally registered how you had melded yourself into his side body. 

Although his usual reaction would be to withdraw back, you might as well have him chained down to the table now as he was practically immobilized by you not even being able to look away. 

“Uh, yeah it happened years ago when I was a kid...I fell off the monkey bars, there was a lot of blood.” 

No one had even recognized it since Choso had it covered years ago. You were the first.

“Oh no! I loved the monkey bars, we used to climb up on them all the time when I was little. I guess those things are kinda dangerous huh? Actually, I’m kinda shocked I never fell, a miracle right?” 

You laughed and Choso found himself smiling at you again. 

You were too accident prone so it really was a miracle. 

“Yeah, good thing you never fell Y/N��� It would be a shame to have to get a big ugly tattoo on that cute face.” 

Choso swore on his life those last words only were said in his head but from the way your eyes widened he knew he fucked up.

“I- that is.. I meant-”

Choso smacked a hand over his face. He can’t believe he just said that out loud to you. He was really losing it. 

“So you think I’m cute?” you teased giggling. You angled your head so you could look up at him from underneath his hand.

“Yeah, about as cute as the blood splatter diagram on this page.” he teased you back. A small smirk on his features as he peeked at you through his fingers.

“Hey!” 

Choso chuckled. Little did you know he actually paid you a huge compliment comparing you to something he thought so alluring as blood.

You grab the hand covering his face as your smile widens and you playfully struggle with Choso. 

You don’t become aware of your close proximity until you almost bump noses.

Choso locks eyes with you and you feel your tummy tighten as you bite your lip. 

You’re still holding his hand and after a while you work up the courage as your other hand comes up to touch his face. 

“Your tattoo isn’t ugly Choso,” you breathe out softly.

Choso closes his eyes as you trace the scar beneath his tattoo. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing but your hand involuntarily begins to travel across his face and his piercings until they graze over his lips and he opens his eyes again.  

Startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes you pull back your hand but he captures it in his own, him being the one to trap you this time.

If either one of you just moved even an inch forward your lips would touch. You see Choso’s lips part when–

“Yo! Hands off my girl, freakshow!” 

“Dean!?” You pulled back out of Choso’s embrace, floored to see your boyfriend and some more of his football buddies heading towards you as you knew they still should have been at practice around this time.

“Oooh he’s in for it now messin’ with Dean’s girl.” Dean’s football friends snickered.

Choso audibly breathes out in exasperation. The moment was ruined and he really didn’t have the patience to deal with your neanderthal boyfriend and his football lackeys who all shared a singular brain cell. 

Didn’t they have a ball or something to chase?

“Uh hey, Dean I..” 

You stop yourself when it’s clear Dean is ignoring you entirely as he approaches the table. Not even looking your way to greet you. 

His aura oozes faux tough guy bully and walks straight up to Choso to size him up leaning on the table to tower over him.

“I’m talking to you, freak. You think you can put your hands on what belongs to me?”

Choso doesn’t look up at him but his grip instinctively tightens on the pen in his hand under the table as if it was Ghostface’s hunting knife. 

Dean’s show of bravado going ignored by Choso pisses him off even more that his teammates are with him and the tough guy act is failing to have any real effect. 

Tch. 

With a swift movement Dean knocks Choso’s coffee over on the table, its half drunken contents falling on both you, Choso and his books. 

This has Choso rising out of his seat as he thinks your boyfriend must have an unknown death wish.

Choso’s pen is still in his grasp but by his side now. It would be too easy to drive it into Dean’s neck before the dolt even knew what hit him. A bit extreme, but it could be considered an unfortunate accident of self defense if Dean struck first.

Fortunately, you stepped in between the two in order to diffuse the situation without picking up on Choso’s murderous intent. 

You chewed your lip. This was low key, your fault. You technically were dating Dean. Although Dean was always the furthest thing from your mind when you were around Choso. 

You didn’t even feel guilty for being caught as you’ve had your own suspicions for a while Dean had been cheating on you anyway, you just couldn’t prove it. You were still dating him more out of convenience than anything else, other jocks and frat boys left you alone knowing you were with him.

The only guilt you actually did feel was for Choso. This wasn’t his problem or relationship but of course Dean was a big enough asshole to make this into an actual issue with Choso since it was becoming clearer how little respect he had for you.

“Dean, what the hell is your problem!? You got coffee everywhere, this isn’t even my jacket.” 

“Don’t what the hell me Y/N, you're so fucking dumb you’re going to let this freak get in your pants when– wait you’re wearing fucking his jacket!?” 

Dean was yelling now and a small crowd was forming and starting to take out their phones to record. 

You could not let this turn into an incident.

“Dean chill the entire fuck out, would you?! It was cold, so he let me borrow it– He’s just my T.A.”

A wave of harsh realization washed over Choso. 

Just her T.A.

Right.

Choso is no one important to you, especially with your football boyfriend and social standing on the line.

He’d let whatever the fuck almost happened between the two you just now make him forget that. 

Not anymore.

“That’s right. I’m just her T.A. So if you’ll excuse me.” 

Choso turned from you both to salvage what he could of his books and leave.

You couldn’t place the emotions in Choso’s words and it made your chest tighten up. But you weren’t trying to write him or your almost-kiss off. 

You didn’t mean for it to come out that way but you really lacked the proper words in these kinds of situations.

“Where do you think you’re going, loser?”

Dean grabbed Choso’s shoulder but the intense murderous look in his eyes made Dean release him just as quickly as if he had been burned. 

Even his football goon friends unconsciously took a few steps back feeling the very real threat in Choso’s eyes. 

Choso smirked as he left. Thought so. 

“W-wait Cho–”  

You want to stop him but feel Dean’s rough grip on your wrists.

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.” 

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag. 

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off. 

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: I promise it won't take as long for the second part to come out. I'm half way done with it already! I was just going to wait and post it all together but a like 12k+ word post all at once would be insane lmfao. After I am finished with this prompt the next 3 stories I will do will be from Thrilling Ghouls as they are all much shorter PWPs in the 3-5k range and I won't have to stress so much since I'm realizing all my Smooth Criminal prompts are longer fics and it takes me like a week or more to write them.

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13

comment on m.list to be tagged in future Kinktober '23 stories

please stop to take a look at this wonderful art of the last scene that @laikatsuki created, tysm again pookie bears!!!

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to come steal your panties although comments and likes are appreciated all the same!

PART 2

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　GOD'S WILL

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N Reid is forced to watch her husband being tortured by a delusional and psychotic serial killer through a computer screen.

WARNING: Based on s2e15 ‼️ Use of gun, blood, being beaten, death, usual CM violence.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The air was thick with tension as Y/N, Morgan, and Emily stepped out of the SUV, the silence of the rural property around them almost deafening. The barn loomed ahead, a dark, foreboding shape against the twilight sky.

They moved in quickly, flanked by a small group of local police officers, their flashlights cutting through the dim light, illuminating the path to the barn. The scent of decay and rot hit them before they reached the entrance, a sickly rancid smell that made Y/N’s stomach churn. She pressed a hand to her nose, trying to filter out the stench, but it was impossible to escape.

As they entered the barn, their beams of light swept over the scene inside, revealing the carnage. Dead dogs littered the floor, their bodies twisted and broken, and the last victim's remains sprawled in a grotesque display.

The walls were smeared with blood, and the metallic tang filled the air. Y/N’s heart clenched, horror flooding her senses at the sight of the animals’ suffering, the brutality of their deaths. She’d seen a lot in her years with the BAU, but this... this was something else.

"Jesus." Morgan muttered under his breath, the disgust clear in his voice. Emily’s jaw was clenched, her eyes dark with anger and revulsion. They moved further into the barn, their guns raised and ready, searching for any sign of the unsub or another victim.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, a gun pointed directly at them.

"FBI!" A familiar voice screamed, the word slicing through the air like a knife.

Morgan’s reaction was instant, his gun snapping up to meet the threat.

"JJ! JJ, it’s Morgan, Prentiss, and Y/L/N!" He yelled, his voice a desperate plea. "Don’t shoot, it’s okay!"

Recognition dawned in JJ’s eyes, and her grip on the gun faltered, her arm lowering as she took in the sight of her colleagues. Relief flooded her features, but it was mixed with fear, her face pale and drawn.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She rushed forward, her hands reaching out to steady JJ, her heart pounding in her chest.

"JJ, are you hurt?" She asked, her voice laced with worry, her eyes scanning JJ’s for any sign of injury.

JJ shook her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Tobias Hankel is the unsub." She said, her voice cracking, eyes wide with horror.

"Yeah, we know." Emily replied, her tone clipped and urgent.

JJ’s eyes flickered over the dead dogs, her expression crumbling.

"I had to kill them." She whispered, her voice thick with guilt, her gaze distant as if she were replaying the scene over and over in her mind. "They attacked me. I didn’t have a choice. I had to-"

"JJ." Y/N interrupted, her voice firm, cutting through JJ’s daze. Her hands tightened on JJ’s shoulders, grounding her. "Where’s Spencer?" There was an edge of desperation in Y/N’s voice, a need for answers that she couldn’t contain.

JJ seemed to waver, her eyes not quite focusing as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"He... he said he was going to the back. To check the cornfield." She finally said, pointing vaguely towards the rear of the barn, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Y/N felt a cold wave of fear wash over her, chilling her to the bone. She turned to look at the cornfield, its tall, dense rows seeming to stretch on forever, hiding whatever secrets lay within.

"Alone?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. The thought of Spencer out there, by himself, searching for a killer without being used to confront one on the field, made her stomach twist into knots. "Why didn’t you go with him?"

JJ looked down, guilt flashing across her face.

"He insisted. Said he could handle it. I... I should have gone with him. I should have..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, visibly struggling to keep her composure. "I’m sorry, Y/N."

Morgan didn’t waste a second. He bolted for the door, his determination radiating off of him in waves. Y/N started to follow, not even looking at JJ again, her feet moving before her mind could catch up, but Emily reached out, grabbing her arm.

"Y/N, wait!" Emily said, her grip firm. "Why don't you help me search for some clues around here? Morgan can do it, okay?"

Y/N’s heart screamed at her to go with Morgan, to find Spencer, but she knew Emily was right. She had to be logical, had to stay focused. They needed to understand what they were dealing with if they were going to help Spencer. She nodded reluctantly, pulling herself together.

"Okay." She said, her voice tight.

It didn't take too long, and soon, the whole scene was covered by ambulances and local police cars. JJ was already being checked by paramedics, her face still pale, her hands trembling. Y/N felt a pang of sympathy, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Spencer, with the fear that she wouldn’t find him in time.

The sound of steps interrupted her train of thoughts, catching hers and Emily's attention. Morgan finally reappeared, his face grim, his eyes shadowed with worry, and Y/N could feel her heart instantly dropping. She knew the answer before he even spoke, the tightness in his shoulders, the way he avoided her gaze.

"He’s not there." Morgan said, his voice low and rough. "Reid’s gone."

The world seemed to tilt around Y/N, her vision narrowing, her breath catching in her throat. The reality of his words slammed into her like a freight train, the implication of Spencer’s absence echoing through her mind. She had known it in her gut and had felt the terror creeping in, but hearing it spoken aloud made it all too real.

She staggered back, her hand finding the rough surface of the barn wall to steady herself. Spencer was missing. Tobias Hankel had him, and God only knew what he was doing to him. The thought was a knife to her heart, twisting and tearing, leaving her gasping for air.

"You can't find him?" JJ's voice echoed closer to them, her figure involved by a thin blanket that disguised her exhausted form.

Y/N kept her eyes on the ground, her eyes widened while her mind ate her alive, not noticing how Emily shook her head negatively or how JJ approached her hesitantly, her face etched with worry.

"Y/N." She said softly, trying to reach through the haze of sadness and worry that surrounded her friend. "We will do everything we can to find him. I promise."

Y/N whirled around, her eyes blazing with a fury so intense it made JJ take an involuntary step back, her hands clutching tightly around the blanket.

"Everything we can?" She spat, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotion. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't need to do anything at all! You should never have left him alone. You were supposed to be with him, JJ! He was with you!"

JJ’s face paled, guilt flickering across her features.

"I- We thought it would be faster if we split up. We didn’t know-"

"You didn’t know?!" Y/N’s voice rose, sharp and accusatory. Her tears blurred her vision, but she didn't bother wiping them away. "You let him go off on his own! You let him-" Her voice broke, and she took a shuddering breath, trying to hold herself together. "And now he’s..." She gestured helplessly at the corn field as if pointing to nothing and everything at the same time. They didn't know where he was.

JJ’s eyes filled with tears, but she tried to hold her ground.

"I know you’re angry, Y/N, but I was just trying to do my job. I thought he’d be safe-"

"You thought?!" Y/N cut her off again, her voice laced with venom. "How could you think he’d be safe? We’re dealing with a killer, JJ! A crazy sadistic psychopath! And you thought it was okay to let Spencer out of your sight? He’s not like us! He’s not... he’s not..." Her words faltered as a sob tore from her throat, her anger giving way to the raw, unfiltered terror that gripped her heart.

"Hey, hey..." Emily got in between them, her eyes going from Y/N to JJ. "Y/N, I know you’re scared. We all are. But lashing out isn’t going to help find Spencer."

Y/N's shoulders fell, a mix of a sob and a deep breath escaping through her throat before she shook her head.

"I can't even look at you right now."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The quiet that had settled over the old house was deceptive. Every member of the team could feel it: the heavy, expectant tension pressing down on their shoulders, tightening their throats, and making their hearts beat just a bit too fast.

The house reeked of rot and disrepair, the moldy walls and peeling wallpaper a bleak reminder of the darkness that had taken root here long before Tobias Hankel had become who he is now. But it wasn’t the squalid condition of the house that held the team captive, nor was it the videos from the past victim that they were analyzing with a scrutinizing eye. It was the video footage being streamed live on a grainy, unstable feed.

Spencer Reid - her lover, her husband, her everything - was on the screen, and he was in agony.

Y/N stood before the makeshift command center. Every muscle in her body tensed to the breaking point. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the flickering image of Spencer, bound to a chair, blood streaming down the side of his face, his eyes wide with fear. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, nails digging painfully into her palms. She barely registered the sharp sting, her gaze locked on Spencer’s face, every detail of his pain etched into her mind.

"Y/N." Emily said quietly, her voice breaking through the fog of her thoughts. She stood a few feet away, her expression a mask of professional calm, though Y/N could see the concern in her eyes. "Do you want me to bring you to the hotel?"

"No, thank you." She answered in a beat, not tearing her gaze from the screen. "I need to see this."

"Y/N-"

"I said no!" Y/N snapped.

"Hey, calm down." Hotch quickly intervened, noticing her demeanor changing drastically. "We’re all doing our best here. There's no need for that."

Y/N rounded on him, her eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

"Don’t tell me to be calm, Hotch!" She muttered, her voice raw with pain. "My husband is out there, alone, being tortured for hours, and you want me to be calm? How am I supposed to be calm? How am I supposed to just stand here and watch while he’s suffering?"

Her chest heaved with each breath, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She felt like she was drowning, like the walls were closing in on her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her mind was a whirlwind of images of Spencer’s bloodied face, his desperate eyes.

"Do you have any idea what he’s going through?" She demanded, her voice breaking. "Do any of you know what it’s like to watch the person you love more than anything in this world being hurt and not be able to do anything to stop it?"

Hotch’s expression softened, but he stood his ground, his voice gentle but unyielding.

"We’re going to find him, Y/N. But we need you to stay focused. We need you to keep your head clear. If you don't, I will send you to the hotel until this investigation ends."

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Hotch... he’s all I have." She whispered, her voice breaking. "He’s everything to me." Her voice dissolved into sobs, her body shaking with the force of her grief.

"We will bring him back, Y/L/N. That's a promise." Gideon’s voice echoed closer to her, his hand squeezing her shoulder for a moment, trying to send any type of comfort to her.

Her blurred eyes got back to the computers, breathing heavily. The video feed flickered for a second, distorting the image for a moment, and she felt a flash of panic, her breath catching in her throat. When the image stabilized, showing Spencer still alive, still struggling, she let out a shuddering breath.

"Please, God." She whispered, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. "Just bring him back to me."

She could feel her heart pounding a relentless, painful rhythm against her ribcage. Each beat felt like a countdown, ticking away the seconds she had to save him. Her chest tightened, and each inhale felt like she was dragging razor blades into her lungs.

But it all stopped abruptly when her eyes caught Tobias appearing in the frame again.

"This ends now." Hankel's deep voice echoed from the cheap microphone, echoing around the room. "Confess your sins."

He raised his hand, and Y/N felt her blood turn to ice. Her body tensed instinctively, her muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. She could see Spencer’s fear, see the way his eyes darted towards Tobias's face, wide and pleading, searching for some shred of mercy. But she knew there would be none. Tobias was too far gone, too lost in the labyrinth of his own madness.

The slap echoed through the small room, amplified by the crackling speakers, a sharp, vicious sound that reverberated in Y/N’s skull. It was as if she had been struck herself, the force of it radiating through her bones.

"Oh my God." She gasped, a strangled, broken sound, her hand flying to her mouth as she watched Spencer’s head snap to the side, a fresh streak of blood painting the side of his face. His eyes closed for a brief, agonizing moment, his face twisted in pain.

Y/N felt her own cheeks burn with the phantom pain of that slap, as if Tobias had reached through the screen to strike her too.

The helplessness she felt at that exact moment was suffocating. She was supposed to be his shield, his protector, and yet here she was, miles away, separated by a screen, powerless to stop the horror unfolding in front of her. It was torture of a different kind. Every inch of her body screamed to leap through the screen, to place herself between Spencer and Tobias, to take the blows herself if it meant sparing him.

How could I let this happen? How could I have been so blind?

She replayed the events leading up to this moment, searching for the misstep, the overlooked detail that had led them here.

When Spencer’s eyes opened again, glassy and unfocused, her vision blurred with tears that were never really gone. His pain was a tangible thing, a living, breathing entity that clawed at her heart, ripping it to shreds. She felt a sob rising in her throat, thick and choking, but she swallowed it down.

"Garcia, please..." She whispered, her voice a broken plea. "You couldn't find anything yet? Anything at all?"

The sound of her own voice brought a fresh wave of agony crashing over her. Spencer couldn’t hear her. He didn’t know she was there, didn’t know she was watching, didn’t know she was tearing herself apart with every second that passed.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..."

When Tobias struck his face again, the sound seemed to echo endlessly in her mind, each repetition a fresh cut to her soul. Spencer’s cry of pain, raw and involuntary, cut through her like a knife.

"Reid." Gideon said softly, his voice cutting through the haze of her anguish. His hands gripped her shoulders, turning her back to the screens and lowering his upper body in a way that he could look inside her eyes. "Why don't we step back for a moment?"

She shook her head violently, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, smearing them across her cheek.

"I can’t leave him, Gideon." She choked out, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotion. "I have to stay with him. I have to-" Her words dissolved into a sob, and she clamped her hand over her heart, trying to hold herself together.

"Oh my, he's killing him." Penelope's words made her go into complete shock, her head turning to the computers so fast that she could feel the pain radiating from her neck.

The sound of the impact of the chair against the ground was sickening, Spencer’s body hitting the hard floor with a thud that reverberated through the barn, and that Y/N was sure she would have nightmares with it for the rest of her life.

"No!" Y/N’s scream tore from her throat, raw and anguished, her hands flying to her hair, pulling at her strands, ignoring the pain that washed over her head, her eyes widening in horror.

On the screen, Spencer’s body jerked violently, his limbs thrashing, his back arching off the ground as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Foam bubbled at his mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head, his face contorted in a rictus of pain.

Y/N stumbled back, her legs giving out beneath her, her hand reaching out to catch herself on the edge of the table. The world spun around her, her vision blurring with tears, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Spencer was convulsing, his body seizing, and she couldn’t do anything.

Until it all stopped.

A scream tore from her throat, raw and anguished, as she turned away from the screen. Her fist connected with the doorframe behind them, the wood splintering under the force of her blow. Pain shot through her hand, sharp and electric, but she welcomed it. It was a distraction from the pain that was tearing her apart from the inside.

"Y/N!" Morgan’s voice cut through the haze of agony, his figure reappearing from the room he escaped to minutes before, his hands grabbing her shoulders, pulling her away from the door. "What the hell are you doing?"

She struggled against him, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking with sobs she couldn’t control.

"He’s dead." She choked out, her voice broken. "He’s dead, Derek! He's dead..."

"He- what?" Morgan turned to Gideon, searching for any trace that told him that Y/N's was lying, but there was none.

"I should have been with him. I should have been there to protect him. How could I let him come here? How could I be so stupid?"

Hotch stepped forward, his expression as hard as steel.

"This isn’t your fault, Y/N. None of us could have predicted this. We’re dealing with a monster, and we’re doing everything we can to stop him-"

"It wasn't enough." Y/N shook her head, lowering her eyes to the ground, her heart feeling a kind of pain that she never thought she would have to feel.

"Guys." Garcia's voice was a shaky whisper, gaining their attention. "Guys, you should see this."

Y/N’s head snapped up, her heart lurching in her chest. She couldn't take any more scares.

On the screen, the image had changed. Tobias was leaning over Spencer now, his hands pressing rhythmically on Spencer’s chest, his face contorted with concentration. The sight was surreal, a twisted juxtaposition to the violence they had just witnessed.

Spencer’s body was still, his face pale and lifeless. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Tobias count under his breath, his hands moving with a practiced precision. For a moment, it seemed like nothing would change, like Spencer was gone for good. But then, there was a small, almost imperceptible twitch of Spencer’s fingers. His head rose suddenly, his body jerking as he took a ragged breath, coughing loudly, his eyes flying open.

"He’s alive." Y/N breathed, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Her fingers found the golden ring that decorated her left hand, ignoring her hurting knuckles, her eyes wide as she watched Spencer cough and gasp for air. For a brief, shining moment, hope flared in her chest. Spencer was alive.

They still had time. They could save him.

But the moment was shattered when Tobias’s got away from Spencer's body, his face twisted, his eyes darkening as the cruel, sadistic personality took over again. His expression shifted from concern to cold satisfaction as he stared down at Spencer, his lips curling into a smile.

"You came back to life." Tobias muttered, his voice a low, eerie whisper that sent a chill down Y/N’s spine.

"Raphael." Spencer gulped, breathing heavily, the not so pleasing experience from dying and coming back to life taking a toll on him.

Y/N’s hands found Garcia's shoulder, trembling violently while gripping her covered skin, trying to ground herself.

"There can be only one of two reasons." Tobias - or Raphael - voice echoed again from the computer, cutting into their conversation.

"I was given CPR." Reid muttered, his face twisting in pain. His obvious answer would make Y/N laugh if it was on another occasion.

"There are no accidents... How many members are on your team?" Tobias's question brought confusion to the team's head. Why would he ask that in the middle of his own chaos?

Spencer’s breathing was shallow, his voice weak as he responded.

"Seven."

Y/N’s eyes flicked to Emily, who stood beside her, her brow furrowing.

"Seven?" She repeated, confusion knitting her features. "But there’s eight of us..."

"He took himself out of the count." Emily realized, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Spencer didn’t include himself."

Before anyone could react, Tobias began to talk again, his voice low and ominous.

"Seven. And the seven angels that had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were thrown to earth."

A horrified understanding dawned in Hotch’s eyes.

"He thinks we’re the seven angels of death." He said, his voice grim. "He believes we’re here to bring about the apocalypse. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death."

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes glued to the screen as Tobias lifted Spencer’s chair, setting it upright again. Spencer winced, his body still weak, his breathing ragged. Tobias moved around to stand in front of Reid, his expression a twisted mask of anticipation.

"Tell me who you serve."

"Son of a bitch." Y/N whispered, her voice wavering as her free hand brushed roughly against her cheeks, trying to wipe the tears that never seemed to end.

"I serve you."

"Then choose one to die." Tobias commanded, his voice harsh and unyielding.

"What?" The sound of Spencer’s voice mixed with Morgan's one as both asked the same question.

"Your team members... Choose one to die."

Y/N felt a hand searching for hers desperately, Garcia's touch meeting her own above her shoulders, squeezing her fingers.

Spencer shook his head weakly, his eyes filled with pain and desperation.

"No... I won’t... I can’t..."

Tobias’s face darkened in a way that wasn't like Tobias or Raphael, his jaw clenching. He took a gun from behind his back, raising it with an expressionless face, pointing it directly at Spencer’s forehead, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"Oh, but you can." He hissed. "And you will. Or I start with you right now."

Y/N’s left hand balled into a fist at her side, squeezing her marriage ring between her fingers.

Spencer’s voice broke through the silence, choked and desperate.

"Please... don’t make me... please..."

Tobias's eyes hardened, the barrel of his gun almost digging into Spencer’s skin.

"Choose and prove you'll do God's will."

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she watched Spencer struggle with his decision. She could see the conflict in his eyes every time Tobias pressed the trigger, the fear and the resolve battling within him. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse again, that he might find a way to resist. But then, his eyes closed, his face going still, as if he had made a decision.

When Spencer opened his eyes, his gaze was steady, his voice calm as he spoke.

"I choose... Y/N Reid."

The room went deathly quiet, everyone seeming to stop breathing, the words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. All eyes turned to Y/N, her face a mask of shock and confusion. Her heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat as Spencer’s words echoed in her mind.

He had chosen her. Why?

Spencer’s voice was steady, almost detached as he continued, his words cutting through Y/N like a knife.

"She thinks she’s stronger and better than everyone else. That she can do anything she wants, and no one can stop her. Not even God."

Y/N’s eyes widened, the words stinging like a slap. She felt her eyes burn more than before, her hands trembling. She knew Spencer didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. But hearing those words from his lips, feeling the weight of his condemnation, was more than she could bear.

The others were staring at her, their eyes filled with shock and concern, but Y/N barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on Spencer, on the pain and sorrow etched into his features.

Spencer’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he began to recite.

"Mark 5:3-4. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him."

Tobias’s eyes gleamed with malicious delight. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a dark smile, a different one. The kind of smile Spencer had only seen in Tobias’s father's face.

"Reid?" He repeated, drawing out the name mockingly. "Now that sounds familiar." He glanced down at Spencer’s left hand, the faint glint of metal catching his eye. "Is she the reason for this ring on your finger?"

Spencer’s eyes darted down to his hand without moving his head, the simple gold band that had become a symbol of their love, their commitment to each other. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I... I don’t know what you’re talking about." He lied, his voice wavering.

Tobias's face stiffened, his brows furrowing instantly.

"Lie is a sin. And she's a sinner, like you, and she will be punished for that. I'm honored to do what will make God proud."

Rage flared in Spencer’s eyes, and he struggled against his restraints, his voice rising in desperation.

"Shut up! Shut up!" His voice cracked with the force of his emotion, the words torn from his throat.

The smile across Tobias face widened, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. He leaned closer, his voice a low, taunting whisper.

"I hope you kissed Mrs. Reid goodbye and told her how much you love her before you came here, because you won’t get the chance to do it ever again."

His fingers tightened around the gun, and without a warning, he aimed upwards and fired, the gunshot echoing through the barn. The sound was like a detonator in Y/N’s mind, snapping something inside her.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, her thoughts a chaotic swirl. She had to understand. She had to believe that Spencer didn't say all of that for nothing. She had to figure out what he was trying to tell them. Without another thought, she turned and ran from the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

"Y/N!" Morgan called after her, his voice filled with worry. But Y/N didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She needed to find the answer.

Her mind raced as she sprinted down the hallway, the words of the verse running through her head. Tombs. Chains. It was a clue. Spencer was trying to tell them where he was. He was giving them a way to find him.

She burst into the small library, her eyes scanning the shelves frantically. There had to be a Bible here. Tobias was religious, his entire psyche built around his warped interpretation of scripture.

Her fingers brushed against a worn leather cover, and she pulled the Bible from the shelf, flipping it open with trembling hands. She scanned the pages, her eyes darting over the lines until she found the passage Spencer had recited. Her breath caught as she read the words again, her heart pounding with realization.

"The tombs." Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "He’s in a cemetery."

Behind her, the rest of the team had followed, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"Y/N, you know he didn't... Wait, what?" Emily started, interrupting her train of thoughts after understanding what Y/N was saying.

Y/N turned to face them, her eyes wide, the Bible clutched in her hands.

"He’s in a cemetery." She repeated, her voice filled with certainty. "Spencer said tombs. He’s telling us he’s in a cemetery."

Hotch’s eyes shined with recognition, understanding dawning on his face. He turned to Penelope, who was already typing furiously at her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys.

"Garcia." He said sharply, his voice filled with command. "Search for cemeteries in the area. Any place that fits the description. We need to find him. Go."

Penelope nodded, her face set with determination.

"I’m on it." She replied, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Y/N muted all of their talking after that, standing in the back of the room and looking at her feet, absorving the surge of hope that washed over her, her heart lifting for the first time since this nightmare had begun.

They were close. Spencer had given them a clue, a lifeline. They just had to find him before it was too late.

As the team kept trying to find the exact place, Y/N clutched the Bible to her chest, silently praying that they would reach Spencer in time.

[bunnys-kisses]

bunny love hiiiii, since i’ve been beyond satisfied with my last order at your bakery i’ve come again with more ! How about a chocolate cake with s’more and make in “on the house “ with SIR lewis hamilton

xx

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i'm always baking up smiles! as for this return customer, thank you, thank you, thank you for coming back! also mister lewis using that accent for evil, tsk, tsk, tsk. i hope you enjoy the fic!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?) + on the house: champagne (sugar daddy au) served by lewis hamilton

cw: smut/pwp, (slight) sugar daddy au, former mechanic!reader, cowgirl position, (slight) praise kink, couch sex

lewis knew he liked you the moment you got into his face, wagging a finger at him and said the words,

"if you fuck up my car again, hamilton. i will have your head!"

it had been a long time since someone was willing to bite back to sir lewis hamilton. the top dog of formula one, but there you were in greasy coveralls, your hair a mess and a look on your face that could kill. lewis knew he had to have you.

that felt like a long time ago, you had gone from mechanic to live-in girlfriend. you still worked, but at a local shop near where you two lived. when he said that you didn't need to work, you held your head high and told him you didn't want a large gap in your resume.

"i'm not your live in housekeeper." and you were determined to cover the cost of the streaming services you paid for, your own clothes and snacks on times off. he admired that, even though your wage as a small time mechanic couldn't cover close to the cost of the place you lived, you were stubborn enough to want to contribute something.

that didn't mean lewis didn't spoil you. when he washed the grease off your face and put you into something nicer you looked like the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

even the little scars along your arms from years of tinkering with cars, even the scar on your chin for an accident in your youth was cute enough for him to want to kiss.

he had come home for the summer break in the season, riding off the high of a successful weekend. he couldn't wait to get home to his girl. when he got through the door of the house you shared, he could smell something cooking on the stove.

with his bags by the door, he slipped his shoes off and padded through the house. he followed the scent of cooking meat.

your voice called to him, "i'm in here!" and he found you in front of the stove, checking on the noodles you were cooking.

he broke into a smile at the sight of you, "how very housewife of you." as he slotted himself behind you and wrapped his arms around you. chest pressed against your back, almost putting a little too much of his weight against you.

you tilted your head back to look up at him, "don't worry, you can do dishes." then kissed his chin. you two still were snarky at one another, but it was all wrapped in a deep affection for one another.

he chuckled, "of course, my love." he said as he leaned in further to kiss you on the cheek. he remained close to you while you put together lunch.

despite all the wealth and glory from formula one. it was nice to sit across from you and eat an easy to prepare meal. pasta sauce with ground beef and noodles with parmesan cheese. comfort after a long time apart.

it was domestic, even though the house you two lived in was beyond wealthy. you wanted to give what you could in your own way. lewis could drip you in diamonds and finer fabrics, but he'll always crumble to his knees for his favourite mechanic and her home cooked meals.

lewis one jokingly said that he was your sugar daddy when you moved in with him. the next day you got the job you had now. maybe there was a slight sugar daddy aspect to it, but he appreciated that you helped where you could. he didn't need any "sugar" from you, you were rather unimpressed when he waved any kind of money around. so maybe he did suck at being a sugar daddy in a way, but he always let you know that if you got tired of working. he was more than happy to support his little mechanic.

"and what happens when i get old?" you asked when he brought it up.

"then i'll be old too." he winked at you.

with dinner finished, you talked with lewis while he cleaned the dishes. you admired his backside while he got the plates into the dishwasher and rinsed out the pot used to boil the pasta.

when that was all finished, you got up to grab the bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses. but as you were bent over to grab the bottle, you heard your lover's voice.

"do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." he asked as he brushed up against your behind, those strong arms around you, his voice in your ear. you squirmed a little and he chuckled, "the accent still gets to you, doesn't it?"

you admired one time over drinks that you found his accent was one of the more attractive things about him. when he asked what was his least attractive quality you replied that it was messing up your cars. but the fact that you found his accent appealing stuck to the corner of his brain.

you closed the fridge door, with no wine in your hand. you turned in his arms and draped your arms over his shoulders. you pulled him for a kiss. after a moment you pulled away and asked, "i guess you want dessert more than wine."

he chuckled, "well, i wouldn't call you dessert. i'd call you the whole meal." his head dipped down to your neck and kissed across your skin as you held him.

this eventually led to the both of you on the couch, you looked at the television screen briefly and chuckled, "reliving your glory days, hamilton."

his lips crossed your cheeks once more then replied, "well, they're only my glory days because you were there." you stepped away from formula one and to a smaller shop because you didn't want a conflict on interest within the team or if lewis left the team.

in all fairness it felt nicer tinkering with mini vans and having a few days rather than a car that can go over 300mph with a few seconds of time to work on it.

"is this your weird way to seduce me to come with your to ferrari?" you asked as you watch him sit down. he was dressed in sweatpants and a black t-shirt now, wanting to get comfortable at home. you had your hands on your hips and you looked very sexy.

"of course not, but if you did." he shrugged, "i'd put in a good word for you."

you pulled off your tank top and shimmied out of your own sweatpants. you got in your lover's lap and kissed at his jaw, your hands buried in the t-shirt he wore. you said against his warmed skin, "right, right. i think you just liked it when i gave you shit all the time."

he chuckled, "no one does it like you, my love."

you said "true." and pulled at his t-shirt until he got off. soon you two were undressed, in nothing but socks and you straddling your lover's waist. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you looked down at him, "how much did you miss me?"

"do you want the nice version or the true version?"

you held his jaw for a moment and dipped into a kiss before you responded, "give it to straight, hamilton."

"i hoped you were watching every race, and then every night i went back to my hotel. and i jerked off to photos of you." he responded, "i think i need to take some new ones. i don't even think you have those panties anymore."

you replied, "if they're the pair i'm thinking, it's because you tore them off of me after monaco. you couldn't wait and we did it in the care. i had to pray on the walk to the hotel room that no one would notice i wasn't wearing underwear."

he chuckled, "well." he guided you onto his cock and kissed at your pulse-point. he relaxed against you as he wrapped his arms around you. it was almost a protective feeling being held by him.

slowly you sank down on his cock and gripped onto his shoulders. you felt pleasure lick at your gut as you took all of him. the noise you made was erotic and made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

you two hotly made out with one another as the two of you moved against one another. you panted heavily between kisses, his soft lips against yours made a thrill run up you.

you were so cute, to sweet to him. you rolled your hips up and down, you felt the heat in your cheeks are you rode him. like you had done a million other times.

he held onto you and kissed at your shoulders. he groaned against you and basked in your warmth. the entire time felt hot, he finally got to touch and feel his perfect little mechanic.

"you feel good like this." he panted, "so good on top of me."

"just as i like it." you giggled, "i know you like looking at my body. i know i turn you on." you leaned in once more and said, "and, truthfully lewis, you turn me on too."

"i guess we're a perfect match then." he said before he pulled you into a hot kiss. his hands were placed on your hips once more and pushed his cock as deep as he could inside of you.

his entire body felt like a live wire, like when he raced, being intimate with you meant the world to him.

the clips continued to play and neither of you paid much attention to it. too wrapped up in one another to really care about much else.

"my little mechanic."

"my pain in the ass driver."

you came first, followed by him. you held onto him while he held onto you. your lips pressed together as you moved against him. you melted under his tough and felt amazing as the pleasure hit you like a wave.

"holy shit." you panted.

"i know." he said as he watched you continue to move your hips. milking you for all he was worth, "relax, love. relax." his voice was warm in your head.

you slowed down your pace and rested against him. your chin on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. he kissed your sweaty temple and his low voice close to you felt so good. the after tremors of orgasmic bliss felt good paired with his sweet praise.

this eventually lad with you two cuddling on the couch. the clips of lewis races played in the background as you two kissed. letting his hands explore your body.

"i wish i could take you to every race. you don't have to be a mechanic, i just want to see you there when i win." his voice was low.

"then win it all for me." you sealed your request with a kiss. you were the mechanic that could stand toe-to-toe with sir lewis hamilton. and while he was the billion dollar driver, with you he was sweeter than candy and more electric than a live wire.

as he kissed you once more, you felt comforted. loved, adored. you'd see if you could get some time off work to be with him after the summer break. if he was going to keep winning, it was only right for you to be there. <3

[inkskinned]

i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

[heavenbarnes]

Oh my god. I just read your older!bf Simon returning from deployment and I LOVED it! It was so PERFECT.

Can you maybe do a part where he does decide to retire from the TF141 and decides to settle down? Stay home with reader and enjoy a normal life, without them having to worry that Simon might not return. I adore your writing style!

course i can 🫶🏼 got a headache, need something soft lol

when your older bf!simon finally makes the call, has the come-to-jesus with price- it doesn’t come easy.

they have to have a sit down, one where simon finally admits that he just can’t do it anymore. not with you around, not when he’s finally got something to lose.

it’s the nightmares that kick things off, that recurring one where he’s like an omniscient being looking down on you and the empty house. the one where you finally get that knock on the door.

it scares the shit out of him.

simon never used to think- let alone dream about his own mortality. that was until you.

he thought it’d be tough, that price would tell him how much the team needed him- how much king and country needed him.

“good choice mate, i’m proud of you”

simon managed to hold back the tears till he got home.

he hadn’t even told you what he’d planned, you’d definitely spoken about it but usually over dinner or when he was all soft and pliable post-sex.

the times where he could really see himself being normal with you. being safe.

you’d known the minute he walked in the door that something had changed. he wasn’t carrying an unbearable weight on his shoulders, for one.

“simon- what’s happened?”

that broke the floodgates.

it was an amalgamation of all that’d been following him since he joined the force. learning to live with eyes in the back of his head. accepting his own fate. becoming a ghost.

that and hearing those words from a man like price.

simon was man enough to admit he was also dog-tired. mid-forties, set of shoulders that you could bounce bullets off they were so tense. his lower back was absolutely fucked these days.

he was so tired.

and here he was, locked in your arms as your ran soothing circles along his spine- softly cooing a gentle “shh” while he cried.

cried like a fucking baby.

anyone else knew about this? he’d turn inside out. but that was before you, that was before he learnt he could show you every ugly little thing about him and find you loving him regardless.

you who loved him whether he was a perfect soldier or a good man.

you who forgave him for everything he’d yet to forgive himself for.

simon had never felt so alive.

stay-at-home-husband looked good on him.

washing basket in hand, cursing at the machine (he’d loaded it so poorly). vacuum trailing behind him, getting caught on literally everything. dishwasher stacked at all odd angles.

you were just happy to have him home.

happy to walk through the door and smell the dinner cooking. happy to hear him in the garage fixing up his car. happy to hear him fixing everything that’d been waiting for him to find time.

happy to have him safe.

simon joined the local rugby club (after you’d made him get a regular physio). he’d laid a pretty wee garden under the kitchen window for your herbs. he could usually be found at your elderly neighbour’s house, carrying her groceries in and staying for a brew.

he’d been allocated a military issue fresh start.

[wandasslut3000]

Welcome home

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, fluff, mommy!kink, semi-clothed sex, pet names, sub!reader, praise, hair tugging, scissoring, cunnilingus, fingering, marking, teasing, choking, long distance relationship?

WC: 2.4k

                 ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Lizzie was coming back home today. She'd been out of state for the past few weeks for her new movie, and although you couldn't be more proud of her, you’d missed your girlfriend painfully.

She'd FaceTime you every night before bed and wake you up with a good morning text.

Sometimes she'll call just to ask how you've been or if you'd eaten yet, always making you smile for how much she cares.

Lizzard🦎💚: Good morning princess, I'm boarding my plane. I can't wait to see you <3

Y/n: Yayy I'm so happy! Text me when you land baby, have a safe flight!

You bring your phone up to your chest, a wave of excitement flowing through you. You head into the kitchen and decide to make yourself breakfast, a simple eggs and toast.

Tapping your feet on the tile floor, you munch happily on your food, humming your own tune and thinking about all the things you'd do once you're back in Lizzie's arms.

Your mind starts to drift off into more explicit train of thought, imagining how her slender fingers would feel around your throat, how sweet she'd taste on your tongue, how fast she'd make you cum after so much time apart.

You blink rapidly, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs and regain your focus back to your eggs. You finish them in record speed, popping hints of toast into your mouth with each bite.

Once you finish, you wash your dishes. You then leave the kitchen and grab your keys, making your way outside and down the stairs of your complex. You get inside your car, start it and back out of the parking lot.

You drive yourself over to the nearest flower shop, parking your car in front of it and stepping out.

Heading inside the store, your nostrils are instantly flooded with the smell of all the surrounding plants.

You go straight for the roses, Lizzie's favorite, also making sure to grab some gardenias, mixing them in with the bouquet to help it pop.

You ask the florist to have a custom tag written on the side of the bouquet, a smile on your face as you wait patiently for him to make it and ring you up. 

Once you pay, you drive over to your local grocery store, grabbing a shopping cart and pushing it to the candy section. You grab a large chocolate bunny, and the cliche heart shaped box and put it inside.

You notice a wooden basket in the aisle across from you, grabbing it, you continue shopping till you're left with a stuffed teddy bear, a card, a fluffy blanket with little dogs on it and the chocolates from before.

You check out and drive back home, starting to set up your gift basket. You put the everything inside and start writing in the card you bought.

I'm so proud of you for being the big beautiful star I knew you'd always shine to be. I love you Lizzie.

You sign it, drawing a little heart next to your name, putting it in with everything else.

You grab your flowers, "Welcome home" written on the ribbon wrapping it, and place them next to basket on the table for the moment.

Your next task is getting yourself ready. You rush into your bathroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and going to take a shower.

As you make quick work to shave and keep yourself clean for her, the thoughts from earlier start coming back, a blush tainting your cheeks as you feel your core tingle.

Still, you regain your composure, finishing your shower and drying yourself off. You take a quick glance at your phone, knowing the flight from New York to L.A is only a few hours, and you'd already spent a good chunk of them shopping.

You find yourself a pair of white underwear with a tiny pink bow on it and decide to not to wear a bra, knowing that if anything were to happen, she wouldn't want to waste time on the pesky garment.

You throw on her burgundy NYU sweatshirt, and grey sweatpants, smiling when you realize her shirt still smells like her.

Sitting at your vanity you start to do your makeup, nothing too much, just a natural look.

You couldn't look a mess for the love of your life now could you?

Just as you finish up, you get a text from Lizzie telling you she'd landed and was in an Uber on the way home.

Your heart flutters, that rush of excitement returning to you as you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You sit on the couch, facing the door, the flowers in your hand as you wait for her like an obedient puppy, clutching your phone as you fight the urge to call her and ask how much longer she'd take.

As if right on cue, you hear the front door handle jiggle, Lizzie stepping inside with her luggage, your first instinct is to run up and practically pounce onto her.

"Baby!" You squeal.

She gasps, letting go of her bag and catching you as you wrap your arms around her, the flowers almost falling out of your grasp. She presses a kiss to your cheek, making you blush before you turn to kiss her.

"Well hello to you too." She grins, pecking your lips a few times, closing the door behind you two with her foot and setting you down, noticing the gifts you'd gotten her.

You hand her the bouquet and her smile widens. "Is this for me?" You nod, suddenly feeling shy as you notice the adoration in her eyes. "Got you presents."

Lizzie sniffs the flowers and her smile widens, she steps further inside your shared apartment, she makes her way up to the coffee table, her mouth opening slightly as she notices all the things you put together for her.

"You're so good to me." She turns to you, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulls you into a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

"You work so hard Liz, you deserve it." Gently, she backs away, turning to examine your gift basket.

The first thing she picks up is your card, opening it and a pout forming on her face. You look down at your feet bashfully, waiting for her to see the rest of her treats.

Slowly, she takes each out one by one, the chocolates, the bear and the blanket. She bites her lip in thought. You look up, "I would've gotten more but.. I didn't know if I had enough time."

She shakes her head, turning to you with her arms wide. She pulls you into her and picks you up again, your legs wrapping around your torso as your arms wrap around her neck, foreheads pressed against one another.

"This is more than enough babygirl, you make me feel so special. I only wish I'd gotten you something."

You shake your head, "You being here is a gift in itself, I'm so happy you're home." You kiss her again, leaving little pecks all over her face, making her giggle.

Lizzie walks the two of you over to your shared bedroom, laying down in bed together with your arms still securely around each other, you straddling her lap.

You start to press kisses onto her neck, sucking at the skin at the column of her throat, little marks forming in their wake.

Lizzie groans, pushing your head closer as she feels your hands slip under her shirt, your cold hands on her hot skin making her shiver.

"I missed you so much." You murmur against her, "Wanted to feel you everyday."

Lizzie backs away for a second to unbutton her blouse, revealing a gray laced bra. You moan at the sight, looking up at her for approval before you reached behind her to unclip it, discarding the fabrics.

You leave your marks on the tops of her breasts, moving downwards and circling your tongue around her areola, Lizzie throbbing at the feeling.

Just as you switch to the other breast, you're flipped onto your back, pinned underneath her as she kisses you, tongue swiping your lip, asking for entrance.

You grant it to her, whimpering into her mouth as she takes over. Your hands go to her hair, tugging the silky brown locks as you wrap your legs around her to keep her close.

She breaks the kiss, slipping off her pants and panties, leaving her bare in front of you. She shifts down between your legs, spreading them and rubbing up and down your thighs.

"So pretty like this, in my shirt all precious, my gorgeous girl." You blush at her praise.

"Lizzie please-"

"That's not my name is it now?" She mockingly pouts at you, tilting her head

"I'm sorry.. mommy."

"Much better." You're practically plead for her to give you anything, begging her and trying to reason that it's been too long without her, you'd missed her touch, her hands on you.

You needed her.

Lizzie finally gives in, bunching the sweater up and pushing it past your breasts, revealing them to her. You try to pull it off but she grabs your hand.

"Don't. Keep it on." You obey and lay back onto the pillows.

She takes a nipple into her mouth, the other getting twisted by her slim fingers. Your body quivers, little moans escaping you at the feeling of her toying with your chest.

Still, you craved more. "Mommy touch me... please I need it so bad."

She chuckles "Am I not touching you right now darling?" She pinches your nipple, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Yes.. j- just need you down there." You tilt your head downward trying to gesture what you wanted.

"Down where princess? C'mon you can tell mommy, use your words." Your face flushes red in embarrassment, taking her hand and bringing it between your legs.

"Need mommy to play with my.. my big girl parts." She lets out a faux gasp, almost taunting you, tugging at the hem of your sweatpants and pulling them down.

She notices your underwear and bites her lip, fiddling with the little bow. "Such a pretty princess." You whine, bucking your hips up towards her as your wetness made the fabric almost transparent.

Lizzie rubs your slit through your panties, teasing you with two fingers and watching as you writhe underneath her, a dark smile drawing itself onto her face at your whimpers.

"P-please don't tease, I need you."

She pushes your panties to the side admiring your glistening cunt. Finally she makes contact with you, making you throw your head back, moaning at the feeling of her fingers on you.

"F-fuck." You groan when she dips two fingers into your entrance, not even giving you a moment to adjust as she pumps them into you.

"God I love this tight little pussy, no matter how many times I fuck it, it still grips mommy so good." You whimper, your hand reaching down to grab onto her forearm as she keeps a steady pace.

"Unh- mommy.. please don't stop." She smirks before bringing her head down, taking your clit into her mouth. "Oh my god."

Her tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves, your hand moving to grip onto her hair as she takes you. Your hips grind against her tongue while your legs tremble, the feeling of your climax approaching quickly.

"Fuck m’gonna cum, gonna cum on mommy's pretty face." Lizzie takes this moment to nibble on your throbbing pearl, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you let out a guttural moan.

You feel the waves of your orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Lizzie's fingers as you slowing come down from your high.

You feel her press her lips to your pussy before trailing back upwards. Leaving quick kisses up your stomach and chest.

She pulls her fingers out of you, bringing them to your lips and watching as you suck the digits clean. Moaning at the taste of yourself.

Her free hand reaches down to wrap itself around your throat, gently squeezing the sides of your neck. Her tongue melds with yours when she kisses you.

Lizzie positions her wet heat onto yours, grinding against yours, making your nails dig into her forearm as you convulse in pleasure.

"M-mommy.. s-still sensitive..." She shushes you, licking a stripe from the column of your neck to your earlobe before taking it into your teeth.

"Take what I give you princess, good girls let their mommies handle them as they please."

You whine, your folds fluttering as you feel yourself getting closer. Lizzie's sloppy wetness brushing against yours in the best way, making you see stars.

"Mmph- ah.. fuck mommy!" You cum, your body trembling. She follows soon after, both of your breathing heavy and ragged as you come back down to earth.

"I love watching you fall apart." She cups your cheek making your heart flutter at her endearment.

"Mommy?" She looks down at you adoringly, raising her brow. "What is it baby?"

"Can I.. Can I taste you?" Her smile returns, nodding her head. She positions herself above you, your mouth watering when you notice the build up of her arousal between her lower lips.

You grab onto her thighs, pulling her down as Lizzie grabs onto the headboard. You start to lap at her cunt, her eyes rolling into her head as she praises you.

One of her hands reaches down and tugs on your hair, pulling you closer to her as feel yourself get drunk off her juices.

"Oh there you go angel, so fucking good." That last bit comes off in a growl, her body rocking against your face as she feels her climax wash through her, a blissed out grin on her face.

Lizzie drops back into bed, kissing your puffy lips, the both of you moaning into eachother's mouths.

She finally takes this time to take off the sweater, pulling your now naked body into her arms and cuddling you.

She traces invisible lines onto your back and the two of you sigh happily at the skin to skin contact. She presses a kiss to your forehead as you slowly start to feel yourself drift off into sleep.

Your eyes start to shut as you lose yourself in the safety of her arms. "I love you." Is the last thing you hear her whisper before you fall in a deep sleep.

[smoochiepoochindiana]

How To Stop Flea & Tick Infestations

Fleas and ticks can be problematic for both animals and humans, alike. As a pet parent, you want the very best for your furry friend so that they’re feeling well, and you can enjoy your time together. One of the best ways to stop fleas and ticks from becoming a problem is to be proactive with pet skin care all year round.

While the spring and summer months are most common for fleas especially, don’t underestimate the colder months. Fleas can survive in a dormant state and can live at temperatures as low as 33 degrees. So, even in winter, they may still be present, waiting for an opportunity.

Focus on Pet Skin Care to Prevent Fleas & Ticks

Pests such as fleas and ticks are looking for a place to land. Here are some tips for flea and tick prevention that can help keep your pet’s skin healthy and avoid them becoming a target:

Dog groomer flea treatment: Regular grooming appointments are one of the best ways to prevent fleas. If your groomer notices any concerning bites or irritations, they can begin dog groomer flea treatment

Grooming at home: In between professional appointments, you can stay on top of your dog’s grooming at home. Learn about quick and easy pet grooming for pet parents between grooming appointments. That way, your dog’s coat will be more manageable, making it easy to do a flea check.

Know what to look for: Keep an eye out for signs of fleas such as bite marks, flea “dirt”, hair loss, scrubbing, hot spots, or light/white gums. Be sure to seek support from your veterinarian for flea treatment for dogs and cats.

Vacuum regularly: At home, be sure to vacuum often. Focus on carpets and rugs, furniture, pillows, and dog beds as well as your own.

Lawn care: You can help keep fleas and ticks in check by maintaining outdoor spaces on your property where your pets spend time. Keep the grass short, weeds pulled, and bushes trimmed.

Take action: It’s important to deal with issues quickly to support your dog’s health and comfort – and stop infestations from occurring. Take action with tick and flea treatment for dogs and cats right away by consulting with your pet’s groomer and veterinarian.

Pet Grooming & Skin Treatment from Smoochie Pooch in Indiana

A preventative approach to fleas and ticks will go a long way to protecting the health and comfort of your pet. The team at Smoochie Pooch in Indiana can help you manage potential pests and focus on your furry friend’s well-being.

Connect with us for dog grooming and cat grooming in Indiana at one of our convenient locations or through mobile grooming. We also offer additional services to support your pet’s quality care.

Source: https://smoochie-pooch.com/how-to-stop-flea-tick-infestations/

[blackleatherjacketz]

Give In

Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Klaus shows up out of the blue to remind you who you belong to.

Warnings: Mature Content, Mild Violence, Alcohol, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Klaus and his Mouth

Word Count: 1.4k+

Raucous voices from the drunken patrons on the patio echo against the vastness of the parking lot as you walk away from the crowd, having had enough of the holiday scene inside. Hand in hand with someone you’d only just met an hour before, you make your way out to your car until a feeling of dread suddenly washes over you. Unsure if it’s from all the green beer that you know you shouldn’t have drunk, the sensation intensifies as you get closer, tugging at your insides and prickling the fine hair on the backs of your arms with each step you take. You hear a heavy thud and a light moan, the alcohol dulling your senses just enough to keep you on your path as you turn toward where you had parked your car before you finally see him.

What the hell is he doing here?

“A local pub on St. Patrick’s Day? That’s very unlike you, now is it, darling?” Klaus licks the fresh blood off his lips as he approaches you and your guest, his hazel eyes aglow with a mixture of hunger and satisfaction before returning back to their natural hue. The limp body of the poor woman he had drained dry is just barely visible beneath the undercarriage of a Jeep as you attempt to take in your surroundings, damning the extra shot you took at the bar before walking outside with the man who had bought it for you.

“Who the hell is this guy? You know him?” Your new friend looks over at you, oblivious to the danger he’s in as a jealous shade of pink paints his cheeks.

“Klaus,” is all you can say as he steps closer, that all too familiar blend of fear and excitement tingling its way through your spine as if it’s your very first time seeing him.

It’s as if he’s capable of infecting the air around him with his mere presence, drawing out an innate response from your body every single time. You wish that you could blame it on compulsion, that you could somehow pass the buck onto his supernatural powers, but you both know he’s never had to use any of them on you before. You hate yourself for how weak you are for him, hate how your body instantly reacts to the mere sound of his voice or the glint in his eye like a dog in some sort of sick Pavlovian response. He could take whatever he wanted from you at any time he pleased, and you’d thank him for it.

And he knew that.

“The real question is… who the hell are you?” Klaus focuses his attention on your potential new bedfellow as he closes the gap between them, ignoring you for the moment as his fists find their way into the thin fabric of his novelty green t-shirt. With very little effort, he twists his grip on it, lifting the young man high into the air before staring menacingly into his eyes. “Well?”

“Alex.” He answers immediately, his voice shaking in sobering trepidation.

“And just how long have you been seeing my little witch, Alex?” His eyes darken as he compels the young man to tell him the truth, his dark tone just as threatening as it is curious.

“Witch? We just met tonight, I swear!” He lifts his hands up in surrender, not even bothering to look back at you for confirmation.

“You swear, hmmm?” He laughs to himself, that subtle amused chuckle rumbling in his chest before turning into a low growl, catching in his throat. “And just what were your intentions in bringing her out here like this, huh? Were you hoping to fuck her?”

“Klaus!” You scold in protest and take a step toward them, stopping only as he shoots you a deadly glare.

“Y…yes!” Alex admits freely, all the confidence and charisma he’d shown you inside disappearing in an instant.

“Good.” A sly grin slowly creeps across Klaus’ lips as Alex divulges his obvious intentions with you, fear trembling through his entire body and into his fingertips as they tremor sporadically. “She is rather tempting, isn’t she?”

Alex only whimpers in response, too afraid to say the wrong thing.

“You’re a bit young for her, don’t you think?” He grabs hold of his jaw and squeezes, turning his face from side to side to get a better look at his youthful features as he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“I didn’t care about that.” Alex cries.

“No, I know. ‘Age is nothing but a number’ and all that, but she needs someone older, someone with experience who can take care of her, someone who can really give her what she needs... Do you think you’re that someone, Alex?” He raises an eyebrow as his grip on his chin tightens, making sure to cut the inside of his cheeks against his molars.

“No,” he can barely whisper at this point.

“Good boy, now why don’t you go back inside, have another drink and forget that you ever met her; forget all of this?” He brings him down closer to his face, their noses mere inches apart as his voice lightens just the slightest bit. “Now run along back inside and find someone your own age, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alex mutters with a nod, scurrying off the second Klaus lowers him down and releases him from his grasp.

“Nose ring really does it for you, huh, love?” Klaus finally addresses you as Alex’s hurried footsteps fade off in the distance. “I didn’t take him as your type.”

“What are you doing here?” You fold your arms across your chest to put some distance between you, as if that will somehow help protect you from his deadly charms. “I thought you’d left town.”

“Well, now I’m back.” His tone shifts completely, his voice now like slowly melted caramel, dripping with the confidence you swear he was born with as it warms every inch of you, those perfect lips of his curling into a knowing smirk. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“And I thought you would have at least called,” you counter coldly.

“Oh, you always fight me tooth and nail don’t you, darling?” He laughs to himself as he slowly saunters toward you. “Always trying to convince yourself that you don’t want me, that you don’t need me.” His hypnotic gaze grazes over your resistant frame before he gently brushes his knuckles against your cheek. “That you don’t belong to me.”

“Belong to you?” Your lips part as your heart begins to race beneath your nearly heaving chest, pumping your cheeks full of blood as the effect he has on you grows more urgent than you care to admit. “I don’t…”

“Shhh…” He stops you before you can finish your thought, grabbing hold of your chin and lifting it to face him. “Let’s drop the charade, shall we?” He takes his time to take in your features, his nearly blown out pupils dilating even more as they linger on your parting lips.

“Mmm hmm,” you try to answer as his intoxicating scent surrounds you, the sweet smell of cinnamon coated with smoky notes of bergamot flooding your senses.

It’s all over now.

“You’re my little witch… not his, not anyone else’s… mine,” he growls. His hand moves from your chin down to your throat, squeezing gently as he ghosts the promise of a kiss while opening his mouth against yours. He stares at you as his tongue languidly traces the outline of your lips just long enough to stifle your breath. “Right? Show me you understand.”

Your lips quiver as they glisten in his spit before you lean forward just enough to lick his in return, slowly savoring the hints of iron and salt until you can’t help but kiss him completely. You breathe him in, forgetting about how long it’s been since you’ve last touched him as he embraces the kiss with an unmatched fervor. You gasp as he presses his hips into yours, nearly knocking the wind out of you as a satisfied groan vibrates in his chest. You moan into his mouth as he clumsily backs you up against the nearest car as you try to catch your breath, that moisture already collecting between your thighs.

“That’s it, love,” he whispers, pressing those pouty lips of his against your chin and jawline as his other hand starts unbuttoning your jeans. “Give in to me like you always fucking do.”

----------

Read more KLAUS!

[coff33andb00ks]

📝 + ur thoughts on being lando's wag. like proper committed exclusive relationship. and ur always at the races to support him🥺

Join me at the 1k bonfire!

honestly it'd probably be hell it'd be so much fun 😬

Lando is so clingy boyfriend coded even as he's maturing, so he'd absolutely need you by his side as much as possible, but especially on race weekends. You ground him, you make him feel like a king, so moments with you before practice/qualifying/the race get him in that perfect mindset. Arriving on the paddock hand in hand, him beaming, you trying not to ugly laugh over the inappropriate joke he just whispered. Lowkey matching your outfits - he'd so get you a necklace that matches his!! - and he'd proudly wear a bracelet with your name on it. (Fans would adore you, obvs)

Quickies in his driver's room, him rushing to media with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and scratches on his neck. Oscar facepalms and shakes his head.

He's a dog guy but he'd come home from a few days at the MTC with a kitten because he knows you love cats - the same day you come home with a dog to surprise him.

In turn he'd fully support your career and interests. Gardening? He helps you set up a container garden on the apartment balcony. Cooking? He'll sit on a stool in the kitchen handing you ingredients and insist on doing the washing up. You're a writer? He's booking trips to the places you want to write about. Corporate badass? When you get home from work and need to rant about that bitch Francine in marketing he's commiserating and now he hates Francine on your behalf.

The relationship is as private as can be when one's dating a formula one driver, but he casually mentions you in interviews. "Oh yeah my girlfriend and I are going there next week" when another driver mentions NYC/Thailand/wherever. "My girlfriend's favourite" when asked about a local dish or dessert. And always, always, with slightly pink cheeks and a little grin.

Back to being at the races! No matter the outcome the first thing he does is go to you for a hug. Whether it's a joyous we did it or a more solemn did my best but... he needs your embrace as soon as he's out of the car. During a drama free race he will pop on the radio with a cheeky "she hasn't gone to sleep has she? tell her I love her" to Will.

It's late nights staying awake with him listening to him ramble when he gets in his head and feels insecure. It's running your fingers through his hair while his head's on your lap. It's his cologne in your clothes and your lipgloss on his cheek. It's driving around Monaco in his latest car while he theatrically panics in the passenger seat. It's laughter - so much laughter.

[coughloop]

what if instead of Clifford the Big Red Dog, it was Clifford the Great Dead Hog

and what if instead of being a giant living dog, it was a massive, bloated, rotting corpse of an impossibly large swine that washed up on the shores of a forgotten small towns beach, and instead of it being a kids book, the mayor of the town decided to stuff the bloating corpse full of fire works and tnt to really give a show to the locals for the last time before he is run out of town for catastrophic corruption and also the smell he is abuot to make

[lycheefruitcup]

Teen Shaw pack summer job headcanons

David- he switched between mowing people’s yards and washing people’s cars

Angel- ice cream/frozen yogurt shop.

Asher- he was a lifeguard at the local pool. End of discussion.

Baabe- I see them being a pet sitter or barista

Milo- he either worked with Asher or was the camp counselor that everyone had a little crush on

Sweetheart- either helped tutor or dog walked

Darlin- worked in some restaurant as a server

Sam- maybe a swim instructor? Or a handyman

[somewhere-along-the-lines8468]

I like to imagine that as time passes, Carolina continues her attempts to relax with the help of the reds and blues. That after everything that happened on Chorus, Dr. Grey orders the whole group to have designated r&r time. What better place to do this than the local recreational center?

At the subtle hints Simmons drops about wanting to go fishing with Sarge, they finally have the chance to make this wish reality, made perfect by Griff opening a can of beer beside them. Sarge bitches at them when Griff forgets the bait, Simmons happily kisses his ass, and Griff chows down on some watermelon, getting his appetite ready for the fish they'll hopefully catch.

Donut, Carolina and Wash go to the zumba class. They mostly went to shut up Donut, but everyone gets strangely competitive. Not that any of the other guests are complaining, they certainly love to gossip, which Donut loves to indulge ofc.

Doc, Caboose, Tucker and Kai go to yoga together, clearing the mind and soul. It's easier for some (Caboose) than others. Admittedly, every time the yoga instructor tells them to switch poses, Doc has to shush the other three from repeating the same conversation over and over again:

"Now for downward dog-" "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about, Bow chicka bow wow!" "HOT-" Kai couldn't help but laugh.

"Who said that??" "Tucker did it."

"Guys, please - I don't want to get kicked out again!" Poor Doc.

It all becomes a part of their routine. Their lives can get busy for sure, but those classes at that recreational center are now somewhat sacred to them. Do they stress out the staff to no end? Absolutely. But I like to imagine that as they leave the center around sundown, Carolina's mischievous smirk she lost as a kid returns on her scarred lip, never to leave in the presence of the reds and blues.

Anyway yeah, I wanna make more fanart of all of them fucking around at the recreational center, but for now here's Carolina cuz she's my fav and I love her SO much.

[copperbadge]

Lying in bed this morning, working on a bit in the novel about defining "shoulder season" for the reader, I realized what my personal aesthetic is currently: Tourist Gothic.

Tourist Gothic as a fashion statement is based on the following precepts.

1. Comfort. Comfortable, weather-appropriate clothing is rarely glamorous, but I'm not here to win Drag Race. I'm on vacation and wearing what best combines 'I like how I look in this so you don't have to' with 'I can wander around a strange place for hours.' If everyone you meet is someone you'll never see again, their opinion of you is irrelevant.

2. Loudness. My traveling companions need to be able to spot me easily. A bright floral print or a weird hat is just the thing. (Protip if you like me are prone to wandering away from the group, a really weird hat is the best way to make sure they can find you. I have a newsboy cap with wings sewn onto it for just such a purpose.)

3. Delight. Where else but on vacation can I wear my Costco Hot Dog t-shirt? On vacation it's appropriate whether I'm at a sausage sizzle, a football match, or an art museum.

4. Utility. If I have to, I can wash my entire wardrobe in a hotel room sink. The socks can be soaked and frozen in a plastic bag to use as an ice pack. Everything has pockets and nothing hurts.

5. Sincerity. Nothing a tourist wears is worn ironically. Commitment to the bit must be total.

The central precept of the look is that one is too concerned with both comfort and adventure to conform to dress code. I don't want to blend in, I want you to take me to the best local cuisine you have and overcharge me for it. I am here to admire your architecture and support your economy. Now just apply all that to everyday life, and boom. Tourist Gothic.

If you're wondering how this differs from everyday Dad Wear, your average Tourist Goth has slightly higher emotional investment in sandals and sunscreen and a lower commitment to belts overall.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk, so glad to see so many of you are wearing golf shorts.