#it's just the worse really you get to see yourself and touch someone and all and you're in literal hell

[imgoddamnloislane]

"then you'd better keep quiet" | clark kent x fem!reader

summary: you and clark hold a dinner party for your friends - but he wants you two to do something else… (w.c. 1119)

warnings: 18+ mdni, pure smut, dirty talk, quickie, no fuckin around just F U C K I N, clark is so soft but there's no way he's not a monster in the bedroom

a/n: just a short something while i work on some longer stuff :) hope ur all having a fabby weekend <3

You’ve been looking forward to this dinner party with yours and Clark’s friends for weeks. 

The whole apartment filled with people the two of you love. Drinks in glasses, laughter on everyone’s lips. You had even planned the menu out in advance, getting ready to fill everyone’s stomachs with good, hearty food. 

Only it seems Clark wants to fill you with something different. 

You notice it from the moment you start greeting your friends. Every time you look over at your boyfriend, he already has his eyes on you. And there’s something in them. A dark tinge, a mischievous lilt; an ulterior motive. One hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other curled around the stem of a red wine glass. You swear you even see him lick his lips. 

It gets worse when you sit down at the dinner table. 

You each take the top seats, facing one another, and your friends populate the ones on either side of you. Lois, Jimmy, Cat, Steve;  even Perry managed to make it tonight. Everyone begins to tuck into the food you’ve made for them. But not you and Clark, not just yet. 

As you start spooning potatoes onto your plate, you catch his gaze again. It’s just as hungry as before. You send him back a look, your eyebrows raising and your eyes questioning. 

In one movement, you know exactly what he’s thinking about. 

Someone passes a serving plate to him and he takes it, saying thanks. Of course he does, he’s Clark. But his eyes don’t leave you. Instead, as he’s placing the meat on his plate, his head lulls very pointedly to his left, your right. 

Your bedroom door. 

Your eyes widen, a wave of heat rushing through you. You almost drop the spoon in your hand. 

“Now?” You mouth. 

He shakes his head. “After food.” 

And then Jimmy catches his attention, taking him away from you. But the thought of what he wants lingers with you for the rest of your meal, fills your mind even through each joke and conversation. Your body aches for him, your skin hiving at the idea of his hands on you. 

So, as soon as you place the empty plates beside the sink, your friends preoccupied with one another, you seek out Clark. You know exactly where he’s disappeared to. You have to restrain yourself from running to join him. 

You turn the handle of your bedroom door slowly, trying not to draw the attention of your friends. 

The moment you step through, Clark’s hands are on you, wrapped around your waist. He pulls you close to him as he closes the door with a large hand, and then puts you up against the wall beside it. You wrap your legs around him. 

He wastes no time in capturing your mouth with his. 

His kiss is eager and sloppy, his wet tongue immediately finding yours. Your hips roll where your bodies are flush with one another, and you snake your hands into his hair. You know he loves it when you tug on the dark strands. 

He keeps one hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place, but curls the other around the curve of your ass. He gives it a hard squeeze, and you let out a soft squeal into his mouth. 

He chuckles low against your lips. His blue eyes are open now, staring into yours. They’re dark, hooded; eager. 

He brings his lips to your neck. “You look delicious tonight, baby. You really think I’d be able to leave you alone, walking around like that? I want you right now.” 

“But our friends are outside,” you laugh, squirming under his touch as he leaves wet kisses on your skin. 

Clark lifts his head, giving you a smile that can only mean trouble. His eyes sparkle. “Then you’d better keep quiet.” 

Your lips crash into each other again, and you reach for the buckle of his belt. He catches your wrist, lowering your feet back to the floor, and he spins you around so you’re flush against the wall. 

Your breasts heave, nipples pebbled beneath your bra, and you let out a hot breath as he lifts up your dress. You hear him scoff before his lips are back at your ear. 

“No panties?�� He hums. “Was that for me, baby?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, “all for you.” 

Clark chuckles again. You hear him fiddling with his belt, his zipper, and then he’s there at your entrance, pushing, stretching you. Even after being with him so many times, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how big he is. 

He knows you well, giving you a moment to adjust. But then he’s pounding into you, burying himself inside you to the hilt with a rhythm that brings tears to your eyes. You splay your hands against the wall, and bite at your bottom lip to stop yourself from yelling out. 

His hand moves from your waist, snaking up your torso until it finds your neck. Then he wraps his hand around it. 

Fuck, he’s so fucking good.  

He uses his new hand placement to pull you even closer to him, his dick still sunk into your pussy. You can practically feel it in your stomach. 

“Does it make you even wetter knowing our friends are just outside?” Clark asks into your ear. You try to give him an answer but it just comes out as a strangled groan. “That’s what I thought, baby. They’re outside but you’re in here, all mine.” 

Waves of pleasure start to build in your stomach, a sign you’re reaching your climax. Clark knows this, too. 

He brings his other hand to your pussy, finding your bud of nerves, using one of his calloused pads to rub you to completion. It doesn’t take long until you're fracturing around him. 

He pushes his fingers into your mouth, and you moan around them, tears now streaking down your cheeks. 

Clark finds his climax too and growls as you feel his heat seep inside you. He holds you flush against him, allowing the two of you to catch your breath again, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before he pulls out of you. 

“You’re a dream, baby,” he says, pressing his lips to yours once more. 

As he’s pulling himself back together, he pats your ass, sending you off in the direction of your bathroom. 

As you step inside, you hear him open the door and ask your friends loudly, “Who’s ready for dessert, then?”

You laugh. 

That’s your Clark for you. A gentleman in public and a devil in the bedroom. 

You wouldn’t change him for the world.

[thefountainn]

The Tattoo Artist

!The banner and dividers were made by me with pictures from Pinterest!

Tattoo artist!Noah Sebastian x Reader

TW: NSFW!! MDNI!!! oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, my grammar, let me know if I missed anything

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction made up by me. While the main character - Noah Sebastian is inspired by a real person, none of his actions here are relevant to how he acts or what he does in real life.

A/N: This took way longer than intended and I don't really like it but I hope you'd be able to enjoy anyway. Also I know how tattoos are done but I didn't want to go into too much detail about it so excuse that. And btw I was imagining wolfcut Noah while writing this because he's my favorite. 😌

You've been wanting to get a lower back tattoo for years and just now worked up the courage to finally do it.

You set up an appointment with a tattoo artist you've never gone to, in a tattoo studio you've never been to. You read many positive reviews about him so you decided to go and see for yourself if he's actually as good as people say.

The day of the appointment you made your way to the tattoo studio. The nerves made you feel like you had a huge tight knot inside your stomach. You even though about calling to cancel last minute or just not showing up at all. But decided against it.

You walked in, and looked around. The studio was quite small but cozy. Various designs of tattoos all over the walls. There was someone currently getting tattooed not too far away from the door. Him and the tattoo artist were laughing at something, which kind of eased your nerves just a bit.

You reached the front desk were a woman covered in tattoos was sitting. She looked up at you and a wide smile appeared on her face.

"Hi." You started, smiling back at her, trying not to seem nervous. "I um...I have an appointment for 4pm with Noah."

"Okay let me check." The woman said. She clicked a few times on her computer and looked back up at you. "Y/N, right?" You nodded. "Yes, you have an appointment with Noah. Let me go get him, wait here."

She got up and went to one of the rooms in the back. She came back just a few seconds later with a tall man following close behind her.

You swore he was the most handsome man you've ever seen. He was tall, handsome, covered in tattoos, with shoulder length hair. When you locked eyes with him and he smiled at you, your knees almost buckled.

"Hi, I'm Noah." He said as he approached you.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You almost forgot your own name. Was it too late to run away or something?

"So we're doing a lower back tattoo?" You just nodded, now not only was there a knot in your stomach, but there was also one in your throat. "Okay, you already sent me the design, so let's go to the back and get started."

You followed him to one of the rooms in the back and he locked the door behind you so no one could walk in while you were getting tattooed.

You sat down next to him on his desk as he showed you the design, making sure you still want that. The whole time you couldn't take your eyes off his hands.

He printed out the design and you chose the right size. He instructed you to lay down on the table, to lift up you shirt and to lower down your pants a bit so he could start tattooing.

The anxiety started creeping in again. Getting tattooed was stressful, but getting tattooed by a hot guy was even worse.

"Ready to start?" Noah asked after he set everything up. His voice was soft and calming easing you just a bit.

You said yes and he placed one of his big hands on your soft skin and started tattooing. His touch giving you goosebumps and you hoped he didn't notice. God damn it, how were you supposed to stay still for an hour if not longer.

Time was passing relatively quickly and all you could think of the whole time were his hands touching you.

"Hey, angel you'll have to stop moving your hips, though." He said softly. He wasn't judging you nor was he annoyed. But that's when you realized you've been moving your hips, almost grinding against the tattoo table.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to." You apologized, trying to hide your face that was now getting red from embarrassed. For a second you thought that maybe you could say you're going to the bathroom and run away instead.

"The tattoo is looking good so far." Noah started. "I'm sure your partner will love it. And most of all, I hope that you'll like it."

"Oh, I've seen your work and you're amazing, so I have no doubt that I'll love it. And I don't have a partner so I don't have to worry about that." You heard him let out a little laugh at your answer.

"Thank you for saying. It's good to know." You could tell he was smiling while talking and you couldn't help your own smile from appearing.

You tried your best not to move by the end of the appointment, although you caught yourself moving your hips a few times. But Noah said nothing about it.

"Okay, all done." He said after a while. "I'm just going to put some cream on it now."

You heard him move around the room then approach you again. You felt his hands on your lower back starting to spread the cream. After a short while, he lifted his hands off of you ans you heard him take off his gloves. Before you could move or even speak, you felt his hands on you again, this time going lower than he was supposed to.

"Is that okay?" He asked as his hands touched the top of your shorts. You didn't say anything, just nodded yes. "I saw how you were rocking your hips. Looking at my hands. Just thought you might want something more than just a tattoo. Is that right, angel?"

"Fuck, yes...please." You murmured.

"Okay, why don't you get up from the table first?" He suggested, giving you his hand to help you up. Once you were stood up, facing him you looked up at him, ready to do anything else he asked for.

"Good." He murmured and you felt one of his hands on the side of your neck, slowly moving up to your cheek as he looked at you with what could only be described as adoration. His gaze switching between your eyes and lips.

He was so tall, he was practically towering over you, so you stood up on your tippy toes so you could reach him and placed your hands on his chest for balance, as you both leaned closer until your lips touched.

The first kiss was gentle and quick, as if to test the waters. You felt his other hand that wasn't on your cheek, against your back, holding you close but also being careful with your fresh tattoo. Then you kissed a second time, then a third. Each of the kisses deepening.

You ended up making out for a bit, before Noah broke the kiss and turned you around so your back was facing him. You then felt his hot breath against you ear, making shivers run down your spine.

"Now, I'm going to bend you over the tattoo table and I'm going to have a little taste." He placed a kiss on the side of your neck. "Is that okay?"

"Yes." You breathed out. Throughout the whole appointment you've been waiting and hoping that he'll ask you something like that and it was finally happening.

He bent you over the tattoo table and you heard him drop to his knees behind you. Then his hands were on both sides of your hips. He kissed your lower back, just under the tattoo and started sliding your shorts and underwear down your legs. You didn't bother stepping out of them, just let them drop on the floor.

"Okay pretty girl, let's see." You heard Noah take a sharp breath right after he said that. "Oh, you are pretty." He mumbled with almost amused as his fingers spread your folds.

He didn't wait any longer and dove straight in like a man starved. He starts licking long stripes as he tried to spread you out even more with his fingers. The noises he made were almost unreal making you push back against his face and he didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, based on the noises he made every time you pushed back against his face, he seemed to like it.

Just as you thought it couldn't get any better you felt his tongue wiggling, trying to get as deep as possible inside you. You had to bring one of your hands to your mouth and bite on it in order not to leat out a loud moan.

Yet you couldn't help it and were letting out some quiet noises, that only you and Noah could hear. Thanks to that, Noah noticed you were getting close, so he moved one of his hands on your clit and started circling it, applying light pressure as he worked his tongue inside you, making you come short after.

You felt a bit bad for making a mess on his work place. But the guilt didn't last for long, since he made you feel too good and you were already blissed out of your mind.

"You taste so good, you know that?" You heard Noah's voice getting closer to your ear. One of his hands gently taking a hold of your chin, turning your face to the side so you could see him, before he kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

It was just one kiss though. He didn't want to waste anymore time and started working his pants down, letting them and his boxers drop on the floor.

"You want to go any further?" He asked before doing anything.

"I do." You replied and soon you felt him pressing against for entrance, slowly sinking in. You felt every vein, every ridge, every little detail about him as he was now all the way in. You stayed like this for a while, his hands on your hips, his chest against your back, letting you adjust to him.

"Fuck, you're so tight. I'll have to start moving soon or I won't be able to last long." He groaned, burying his face in your neck, kissing wherever he could. You took a deep breath in and spoke up.

"You can move now. Please, Noah." You almost moaned. Almost. But you were in a tattoo shop, so you constantly reminded yourself to be quiet.

You felt his weight lift off your back and his hands squeezed your hips tighter as you felt him slowly dragging his cock almost completely out of you before slamming in again with full force.

A small moan escaped your lips but you were quick to shut it down by biting on your hand. There definitely will be a bruise tomorrow.

He did that a few more times before starting a quick steady pace and if he wasn't holding you your knees would've buckled and you'd end up on the tattoo table face first.

"You have no idea how good that tattoo looks from the back." He said between thrusts. "This is what I was thinking about the whole time while tattooing you. Of how pretty you'd look from this angle." His words made you whine louder than you intended.

You could hear the people in the other room talking, laughing, walking around and the fact that they could walk in any second now made the thrill of the experience even more intense. Sure the door was locked but you still felt excited.

Noah was pounding into you, holding you tight and the noises he made just showed the how much he wanted you.

You started to feel a tight knot forming in your stomach, ready to burst any second now.

"Noah, please. I need more." You didn't have to ask him a second time, as his fingers found your clit and started circling it fast enough to match his pace.

"C'mon angel. I know you're close. Please come for me. I got you." He murmured against your ear, leaning his body against yours.

You threw your head back moaning his name as you came for the second time. He didn't stop moving in and out of you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

"Good job. You did such a great job." He praised, kissing your temple as he came inside you.

The two of you stayed like this catching your breaths until they evened out. He helped you clean up as best as possible, considering where you were. Then you got dressed and thanked him for the tattoo (well not only for that).

Just as you were about to open the now unlocked door, you felt Noah's hand grabbing your wrist.

"Wait." He said, making you turn around to face him. He was holding out a piece of paper and you reached to take it from his hand. "This is my personal number. In case you need some retouching of the tattoo." You just smiled sheepishly at him, as you felt your face getting red.

"Actually" He spoke again. "I think we might need to do regular check ups, you know...to see how it's healing." He winked at you and let go of your hand, hoping you'd call him.

[ganondoodle]

hope you're doing better now. if you made that post seriously asking for strategies and not just as a rhetorical question, here's some things that help me (disclaimer i have diagnosed ptsd. i'm aware these strategies may not work for everyone, but i wanted to give you a list if you needed).

1. put something heavy on yourself, like a weighted blanket or several pillows.

2. remind yourself of the distance between you and the trauma--how much you have worked to grow from then. this can be in the form of looking at pictures of you and your friends, at the progress you've made on personal projects, at anything you've done that made you proud.

3. go on a walk and listen to music that aligns with your mood. it doesn't even have to be outside--pacing your room is fine too. this will help your body to regulate.

4. if you can, go running or do some jumping jacks or burpees or anything that gets your heart pumping and your focus on your body in the moment you are currently occupying.

5. call someone that you trust and depending on where you're at, either vent OR ask them to distract you. don't vent if you don't feel up for it because this does have the potential to make the spiraling worse.

6. this advice sucks shit but sometimes you just have to wait out the bigger spirals. if you're in one of those, set yourself up for success by putting yourself in a safe environment where your needs are met if you can. if not, prioritize your well being, especially by maintaining regular eating and drinking. that's very generic advice, but taking care of your basic needs will prevent you from falling into a worsening cycle.

7. get outside if you can. put yourself in situations where you need to think about anything other than what you are spiraling about. this could be lunch with a friend, taking online classes, going to work, etc. try not to let yourself think about what you are spiraling about too much.

8 give yourself a predesignated amount of time to think about what you're spiraling about. set a timer in advance, and no matter where you are when that timer ends, do something else. this will make pivoting away from those thoughts easier over time, though it may not be super effective at first.

9. similarly, give yourself some kind of phrase of resolution you can say when you want to change the subject. you might start to associate this phrase with changing the subject over time; the phrase is a designated end to the conversation youre having with yourself.

i had a really bad episode in may, and these are all things that genuinely helped me. i hope that some of them can help you too. i'm sorry you're going through this, but i know you can get out of it eventually.

(this is an anon ask so i cant answer privately- and maybe this helps someone else going through a rough time)

i am incredibly touched someone would take the time and care to write out soemthing like this to someone as random as me qwq

it was very late at night that it happened so alot of these tips werent applicable (and i didnt see this until later in the next day) but thankfully i didnt end up spiraling much further and as stupid as it may sound, distraction via random videos did end up being almost enough but also .. me randomly clicking my activity tab to find anything that better redirects my thoughts and then be greeted with someone having left a little essay in the tags of my art was so unexpected at that moment it might actually have stopped the worst of it i was able to go to bed and though i slept pretty badly at least it didnt go worse, though that knowledge nevertheless has been added to the things that sometimes unintentionally flash up in my mind and i can never forget ..

a friend also checked to see if i was ok just before i turned off my computer (thank you) but in most cases like this everything gets worse if i talk about it so trying to bury it is much better for me q-q

either way, thank you, im gonna try to remember some of these i havent thought about before if it should happen again qwq

[sweetlullabyebye]

Wait hold up ghosts can feel things in Hell (I think?) so it's litteraly the first time Charles could actually feel Edwin when holding his face?

[carnalcrows]

EYES ON ME

pairing: jinu x male reader

synopsis: It was supposed to be just another street performance—the SAJA Boys running through “Soda Pop,” crowds screaming, cameras flashing. You were busy managing sound checks and soda cans, not flirting. But then Mira from Huntrix showed up. You helped her with a charm, she smiled, and Jinu saw the whole thing. He didn’t say a word. Not until later—when the van emptied out and he finally had you alone. Now he’s got his hands on you, his name in your mouth, and one goal in mind: remind you exactly who you belong to.

content warnings: 18+, smut, jealousy, possessive behavior, bottom male reader, rough sex, oral (reader receiving), marking, light restraint (pinning hands), cream pie, slight degradation/praise mix, power imbalance (idol/manager), implied size kink, fast-paced encounter in a semi-public setting (merch van).

word count: 1.2k [req]

The crowd’s loud, the boys are louder, and you’re two seconds away from stapling someone’s charm mic to their shirt yourself.

Somewhere between their third run of “Soda Pop” and the camera crew asking for just one more shot, you’re juggling half the sound team, two open energy drink cans, and a makeup stylist yelling at you about sweat on Abby’s nose. And Jinu? Jinu’s off to the side pretending he’s not watching you—but he is.

He always is.

You chalk it up to being SAJA’s manager. You’re supposed to be everywhere. Suppose it makes sense that his eyes are always tracking you, even when he’s catching his breath between takes. Especially when he thinks you’re not looking.

You catch Mira’s eye across the crowd.

She’s leaning against a tree like she just “happened” to be passing through. Sunglasses on. Bun too tight. That very specific Huntrix kind of bored that always hides something sharper underneath. She gives you a small wave when your eyes meet, and you walk over—figuring it’s just the polite thing to do.

“You all really lean into the theme,” she says, nodding at the soda-shaped mic stand. “It’s cute.”

You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Cute’s what sells.”

Her lips quirk. “Are you managing them or babysitting?”

“Both,” you admit.

She lets you fix the charm bracelet falling off her wrist. Nothing major. A simple leather cuff with an old-school sealing rune, half-charred at the edges. You tighten the strap, hand lingering maybe half a second too long before you step back.

She smiles. “Didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”

You huff. “Don’t start.”

You don’t see Jinu watching. You don’t have to. You feel it.

They wrap the shoot. You give the usual high-fives, towel passes, headcount. The boys scatter—some to vans, others to food stalls. You’re wiping spilled soda off the merch table when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

You turn.

It’s Jinu. Still in his sleeveless fit. Hair damp. No mic now. Just that look on his face—the quiet, unreadable one he gets before a fight, or worse, before something personal.

“Didn’t know we invited Huntrix,” he says flatly.

You blink. “They weren’t on the call sheet.”

“You looked happy to see her.”

You pause. “It’s Mira.”

He steps in. Close. Too close. His voice drops a notch.

“You smiled at her like you smile at me.”

The mood changes fast. You feel it in your chest before your brain catches up—like he’s about to say something he’s been holding back for way too long. You can taste it behind your teeth. His eyes flick down your face. His fingers twitch at his sides.

You’re about to say something—something dumb, probably, something like you’re imagining things—but he moves first.

Faster than you expect. Hand at your neck, other gripping your hip, walking you backward into the merch van’s open side door.

It shuts behind you with a loud slam.

“You like making me jealous?” he says, mouth right against your jaw.

“No,” you breathe. “I didn’t even do anything—”

“You touched her.”

“Her bracelet—”

“You smiled.”

You open your mouth again. He shuts you up with his hand sliding under your waistband and squeezing.

“Jinu—fuck—”

“Don’t care.” He growls. “You’re mine.”

His mouth crashes into yours like he’s been waiting weeks to do it.

Hot, rough, a little too eager for someone who’s usually all calm and composed. His hands are already dragging under your shirt, palms flat against your stomach, like he’s checking to make sure you’re real. You gasp into it, and he smirks against your lips like he owns the sound.

You try to speak again. He doesn’t let you.

One hand shoves your jaw up. The other drops low, cupping you through your pants—fingers curling, slow and confident—and your brain shorts out for a second.

You twitch. He chuckles.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs. “Knew you would be.”

You should stop him. Should say something about professionalism or boundaries or literally anything other than "fuck," which is the only thing that makes it out of your mouth when he palms you harder.

His teeth scrape your throat. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

He backs you into the van wall, hands everywhere—gripping, pulling, undoing your belt like it’s routine. You're not sure when you ended up flat on your back on a pile of spare SAJA hoodies, but by the time his mouth is on your neck, you’re already breathless and half-naked.

You’re half-naked before you even realize what’s happening. Your shirt’s gone. Your belt’s loose. Your legs are open and he’s between them, looking down like this is the real stage and you’re the performance.

“Jinu—”

“You’ve been looking at everyone but me,” he says, thumbing your waistband down, “but you’re the one who's been on my mind since day one.”

His eyes flick up, locking with yours.

“So now you’re gonna look at me. Just me.”

He goes down on you first. Slow. Heavy.

His tongue is hot, demon-warm, and he sucks like he wants to hollow you out. Hands on your thighs, holding you open. Holding you still. You arch, helpless, your voice a cracked gasp as his mouth works on your cock in steady, messy pulls.

You try to move. He pushes you back down.

“I said, eyes on me.”

You look. You regret it instantly.

He’s staring up at you with his mouth full of your cock—lips swollen, spit slick, pupils blown—and he looks so fucking smug about it.

You come in his mouth way too fast.

He drinks it down, slowly. Licks his lips. Doesn’t break eye contact once.

Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says:

“Not done with you yet.”

He flips you onto your stomach, presses you into the mat, and fucks you open like he’s been waiting for this since the day you joined the company.

His cock is thick, unrelenting, and he fucks deep—one hand pinning your wrists down above your head, the other on your waist keeping you where he wants you.

You try to muffle your sounds against your arm.

He doesn’t like that.

“Let them hear,” he pants. “Let the whole fucking building know who’s making you feel this good.”

You’re begging before you even realize it. Voice cracking. Heat building. Your whole body trembling under the way he pounds into you, pace brutal and unfair and so good it hurts.

“Jinu, please—fuck, I’m—”

He leans over, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “I’m yours, I’m—fuck—”

You come again, dizzy and wrecked, pulsing hard against the floor.

He finishes a second later, buried to the hilt, grinding into you with a groan that’s pure possession. You feel it—hot, thick, spreading inside—and you collapse under him, breathing like you just ran a mile.

You don’t remember when he pulled out.

But you do remember him pulling you into his lap after, still sticky and shaking, kissing your jaw like you’re something delicate instead of the mess he just made.

You slump into his chest. Your voice is hoarse.

“…So you were jealous?”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re lucky it was just Mira.”

You pause. “What if it had been Romance?”

Jinu tightens his grip.

“Try it,” he says. “See what happens.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @axetivev @yyuinaa @zaynesyumei @sageofspades @onyxmango @puccigucii @the-ultimate-librarian @sooobiinn @sooniebby @i2innie @tintenka1 @timaas-blog @darlinqvi @horrorsbeyondreality @rednugget @lysanderplume @leron1108 @kauo-writez @the0ishere @calgurl @kissenturine @bleedingbl0ssom @gayaristocrat @hyppernovva [comment to be added, or send an ask]

[amomentsescape]

Slashers handling ovulating s/o?? 😚

Btw I love your work so much! You’re amazing

Slashers with Ovulating! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo

Warnings: MDNI, suggestive and mature content (It gets pretty steamy but nothing too crazy)

A/N: Definitely the most NSFW fic I've posted on this page. As a reminder, I don't write smut so this will probably be as steamy as I get for my posts. But this was a fun request, and I enjoyed writing for it! Thank you, Anon!

Freddy Krueger

Your dreams give you away

(Yes, he'll watch your dreams if he's not already controlling them; there's no privacy with this man)

And he's very interested in these dreams you've been having recently

It only takes a couple for Freddy to quickly snap

You'll go to sleep one night only to find yourself immediately in Freddy's domain

The setting and environment feeling very familiar somehow

You won't see him at first, but you'll definitely feel him around you, his voice echoing around the dreamscape

"Wanna make those dreams come true, baby?" he cackles throughout the darkness

Before you'll be able to respond, you'll feel his hand slide over your waist

The question was mostly out of politeness

He's not going to let you say no now that he has you (not that you were going to anyways)

Michael Myers

He picks up on everything in an instant

Your smell, your actions, your voice- literally everything is screaming at him

Now, Michael has a lot of self-discipline

He could just go about the day like usual and not need to indulge in anything

But he wants to

Don't mistaken this for "giving in"

It's just another way for him to put himself in control

You're just so desperate for him that he can just about get away with anything he wants

A simple touch has you weak in the knees, a slap on the ass has you arching your back

He could just absolutely ruin you these next few days

And he is very much planning on doing so

Jason Voorhees

Jason is fairly innocent when it comes to this sort of topic with you

But unlike Bubba, he does pick up on your teasing after a bit, he's just too flustered to do anything back

He loves the attention, but the way you're making him feel is causing him to freeze up and blush wildly under his mask

He knows you love him, but he can't understand how someone like you could possibly desire someone like him

He can't even hold eye contact with you when you're looking at him like that

When you've finally grown too impatient, you'll hop on his lap and grab his cheek, forcing him to look at you

He'll give you a big sigh and concerned eyes, silently asking if you're sure

"Jason. I want you. I want you and only you."

Those words must have been laced with magic, because a switch flips, and he's suddenly standing up, holding you bridal style

He'll toss you onto the bed and crawl on top, suddenly more confident than earlier

Looks like all he needs is a little bit of reassurance during this time of the month

Thomas Hewitt

It might just be the primal side of him, but he can literally smell it

Your pheromones during this time of month are always consistent to the point that he anticipates this weeks in advance

He lingers around you more often than normal (which isn't saying much since he stays near you 99% of the time anyways)

He's just waiting for the moment that you'll let him take a bite

And if you bump into him just slightly, his breath hitches and he'll freeze, hoping maybe you'll turn that bump into something more

Stands a little too close to you so he can breathe in your scent

But he's also hoping it'll increase the chance of you rubbing up against him on "accident"

This only makes things worse for the both of you until you two are finally alone together

All you have to do is give him that look, and he's throwing you over his shoulder, locking you two away for the night

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is a very innocent man

He didn't even really know what the concept of "sex" was before you

So unfortunately for you, pulling out all stops will quite literally do nothing

You could stand there completely bare in front of him, and he'll sweetly think you want to shower

That's not to say you're constant touches and flirting don't do anything for him

They do, he just doesn't understand what that feeling is yet

When you finally get to be alone with him, you'll gently let your hands wander, watching carefully at his reactions

Once you hit a sensitive spot, you'll know

His breath will hitch and he'll give you this soft, pleading look

And once you kiss him, that fire inside him will quickly engulf his body

You just have to give him a sweet questioning glance, and he'll be feverishly nodding his head, grabbing at your wrists to continue

Brahms Heelshire

To be honest, whether or not your ovulating doesn't really change how Brahms acts around you day to day

Because he is always down bad for you

But he does appreciate how quickly you seem to return his advances during this time of the month

He enjoys turning it into some sort of game when he can too

You'll feel his breath on your neck, only to be met with an empty room

You'll feel his gaze on you all throughout the house without a single sight of his whereabouts

When you finally have had enough, you'll break

Turning on the shower peaks his interest

And the moment he sees that first button of your top open, he's revealing himself from the walls

You've been working so hard for him today

He thinks it's time for you to finally relax

Norman Bates

Norman knows before you do

The sweet man tracks your cycles for you, always wanting to be prepared to care for you in the way you need

But this time of month isn't one where he feels too bold

He becomes even more shy somehow, having trouble holding eye contact

Every kiss or hug from you sets him aflame, and he turns into a blushing mess

It's honestly like he's the one who's ovulating

And all you have to do is hold him for just a little bit too long and whisper in his ear to make him break

He'll quite literally fall to his knees in front of you, waiting for anything

He'll do whatever it is you ask

Like I said, he wants to care for you in any way you need

Billy Loomis

He tries to be smug about everything

You're more affectionate than normal, even doing some PDA that he's not used to from you

He just acts like his usual self out in public

But the moment you two are alone, he confronts you

He'll pin you against the door, his free hand wandering across your skin while he looks at you with dark eyes

"You think I can't see what you're doing? It's not very nice of you to be such a tease."

His voice is barely above a whisper while his grip on you tightens

His wandering hand finds the most sensitive spot on you and squeezes, causing you to let out a whimper

He smiles in return

"You're going to have to do better than that to make it up to me," he whispers, leaning in gently

Stu Macher

Look at this guy

He literally can't keep his tongue in his mouth (sorry, bad joke)

He can tell something is up though

You're more cuddly than usual, practically sitting on his lap at all points during the day

And Stu does not mind one bit, but he isn't sure what's gotten into you

You're hoping he'll take the hint, but he's as oblivious as he is happy

It's only when you straddle his lap and kiss him deeply that he understands what's going on

His hands are on you in an instant

He'll happily oblige to your "demands"

Just be careful when and where you decide to break though

Because the moment you open that door, Stu will be having you in that instant

And if he has to pull you into a broom closet in public to do so...

He will

Vincent Sinclair

Despite barely seeing the light of day most of his life, he's fairly knowledgeable about everything

But unlike his brother, he doesn't really get driven up the wall by this time of the month

He just wants you to be happy, so if being flirted with and touched every two seconds is what you want, he'll happily go along with it

Even though his face feels like it's going to burn off again every time

He won't initiate anything, but he also won't say no to anything you do

Just guide his hands and tell him what you need, and he'll be helping you out instantly

He doesn't even expect anything in return

But when you smile at him just like that, his brain might short circuit

He'll be your slave if you ask nicely

Bo Sinclair

Bo is, well, Bo

He sometimes acts like he can't tell or that he's too "deep" into his work at the moment to be bothered

But he knows

And he loves the feeling of being needed and desired

You'll come up to him, hugging him for a bit too long, your hands lingering on his chest and torso

He likes to play coy

He wants to see you break first

He'll happily make it worse for you too

Hands on your waist, a gentle caress of your neck, that piercing gaze of his

He can see your face flush and body practically tremble at his actions

But he won't do anything about it

It won't be until the end of the day when he finally comes back home to find you already waiting at the door

You about have to throw yourself onto him before that smile finally breaks out onto his face

"So impatient, aren't we darlin'? Gonna show me just how badly you need me?"

[mixingandmelting]

Spoiled

Summary: he's in a mood and wants to get spoiled but you're distracted by the show you're watching and don't notice

Dick:

He’s unhappy. Grumpy. And it’s getting worse because he’s not being given what he needs (wants): you.

Having dropped himself right next to you on the couch, he plops his head onto your shoulder, waiting for you to give him head pats. 

A second pass. Two. A minute.

Both his eyes and lips flattens, not at all pleased that you’re distracted with whatever you’re currently watching.

Shuffling a bit into a more comfortable position, he grunts and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. 

With some nuzzling, this time, you rest your head on top of his which, really? You’re going to tease him now of all times? He is in need of all your time and attention, but you’re choosing to tease him-? 

“Okay, okay. I get it- just stop looking at me that way.” 

“Hmph.” He sniffs, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder. 

Arms wrapped around your waist, he finally gets what he wants and  uncoils under all the touch you give from playing with his hair to spooning with you being the bigger spoon and him the smaller one. 

Jason:

He does not brood. He gets in a mood while brooding? That’s reserved for a certain someone else. 

Tension rolling off of him, he slouches on the couch with arms crossed and legs spread.

 It takes a lot for him to not scowl, a tick in his jaw, listening to you munch on another piece of popcorn when he's right there next to you, clearly not in that great of a condition.

Leaning his head back on the headrest, he lets out a heavy sigh through his nose. Half-lidded eyes glances at the screen with a very-judgmental tiny frown before closing them completely and deciding to simply settle with your presence. Because why not; he has you and you’re busy watching your show, not at all making him feel neglected- 

“You know, you can always ask.” 

You pull his arm and wrap it around yourself, resting your hand over his while your head is on his shoulder. 

Apparently that’s not enough, pulling you onto his lap so he could place his ear over your heart while enjoying being completely engulfed in you.

Tim:

Lips pursed, eyes dull, slouching on the upholster- practically all the signs when he joins you in the living room.

There’s no reaction. No shifting or shuffling leading to him lull his head to the left only to see your attention not on him whatsoever. It’s just a smidge, so minuscule you would’ve HAD to pay attention to notice that he’s sucking on his bottom lip. 

Still nothing from your end though, not even batting an eyelash or peaking at him from the corner of your eye. What does a guy have to do to get his S.O’s attention? 

He turns his head the other direction, propping his chin on the hand resting on the arm rest while the other is placed over his abdomen lifelessly. 

“Haaaahhhhhhhh-“ 

Cue an arm wrapping around his, his head suddenly tucked under yours with a hand supporting the back. 

“Please, Tim. Use words, not action.”

Well, you didn’t need to put it that way. 

Ears burning, he cuddles into your side, his arms around your waist and squeezing you back while finding himself, happily, drowning in the affection you pour into him.

Duke:

He’s just sitting next to you. That’s all. That’s it. Totally not expecting anything despite his leg and arm brushing against yours, moving time-to-time a millimeter closer to you. 

But, Despite everything, what do you do? Nothing. Zilch. You’re so engrossed in the show, it’s obvious that you’re assuming he was simply joining you to have an impromtu “together” time when he’s giving the hints, the nudge and wink. 

It’s not like he can bluntly ask you either. The last thing he wants, needs to appear childish. Teasing? Sure. Petty? That’s just part of human nature. Childish? N. O. 

The cringe. The first-hand and second-hand embarrassment. He can already see his future flashing before his eyes-!

“You know, you don’t need to bounce your leg right next to mine to get my attention.” 

Your head is on his shoulder while you snuggle into his side. The warmth of your hand seeping into his, fingers tangled together, palms touching. 

That’s how he finds himself blushing, trying to hide his face behind the other hand that’s free at the same time as getting what he was wanting from the very start.

Damian:

Dense. Inattentive. Can’t read the air, vibe in the room. 

For the longest time (cough five minutes cough), he’s been waiting for you to turn around and notice him. Realize what he’s demanding. Hell, with his arms crossed, huffing, consistent clicking of his tongue, and scowl it should be obvious by now.

Instead, his scowl deepens as he glances at you and sees you’re invested in the plot when you should be invested elsewhere, in particular in him. But whatever, be that way. 

He repositions himself where he’s leaning onto the arm rest, his gaze fixated on the wall.

“What? No way.” His eyebrow twitches, agitation flaring up at each gasp you make on top of the mumbles related to the story until finally, he reaches his limit.

“Agreed. No way did it take this long for someone to notice that they are wanted despite everything including behavior and action.” 

…That was not what he was planning to say.

It doesn’t comfort him when he feels your head on top of his back and your arms around his torso though he does eventually turn around after getting kissed on his very burning cheek.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence. 

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt. 

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission. 

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now. 

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.” 

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile. 

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?” 

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection. 

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!” 

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.” 

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.” 

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?” 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings. 

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud. 

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other. 

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?” 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.” 

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?” 

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date  “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.” 

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.” 

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.” 

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.” 

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.” 

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.” 

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door. 

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.” 

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side. 

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet. 

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.” 

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?” 

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit. 

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Movie Week

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Noncon yandere slasher x fem reader - 5.2k words Tags: knife play, spitting in your mouth, slight degradation, DEAD DOVE

Quit fucking squirming. I will cut you, understand?

There. See? Not so hard. Just hold still and let me look at you.

Pretty thing... Even prettier with the way you're all stretched out under me. Never thought I'd be so into a girl, but I guess I was just waiting for the right one to come along.

What's that, honey? Can't really hear you through the gag. Don't really care to neither. I'm not here to listen to you talk.

Hmmm, you're a cute little thing too, you know that? I noticed it the first time I saw you. Sitting in the hot tub with all your friends, getting drunk and stumbling around all helpless. Don't blame yourself too much, but you're the whole reason I ended up here. Did what I did.

It was fate, really. Or luck. Bad luck, on your part. Great fucking luck on mine.

I don't really walk through the woods on my way home. But the snow was coming on and I figured a few minutes shaved off would save me a world of trouble.

Didn't know folk stayed all the way out here. Guess this is some kind of AirBnB situation? Yeah, your plates aren't local, I noticed that much.

I heard you laughing. That's what dragged me off the path. Should be the other way around, don't you think? Me, the big, bad killer, luring you off into the cold, scary woods. But no. Not this time.

Heard you laughing and it got me curious.

If your host kept their fence in better shape maybe I'd have given up. Too fucking late and too fucking tired to be hopping fences.

You're all quiet now. What, you like listening to me yammer? Or are you just curious? Probably ain't easy to be you - some deranged killer coming out of the woods and picking off all your friends. Hell, I guess I'd want to hear his story too, if I was in your shoes.

Where was I? Right, the hole in your fence. Reckon you didn't even notice it. Had no reason to go looking for it.

But I found it. Looked through it just to see what was so damn funny. And that's when I saw you.

D'you know your hot tub is right under those fucking - whaddya call 'em - fairy lights? They make you look like a fucking dream. Reflecting off your skin where it's all wet. Playboy centre fold kind of shit.

I didn't even notice your friends at first. Couldn't take my eyes off you. Kept wondering what your skin felt like - all warm and wet from the water? Or chilly where the air touched you?

And then you stood up and I got a real good look at you. Didn't really think I had a type, but baby, it's you.

What are you looking at? You keep darting your eyes at the door, like someone is gonna save you.

Not happening. No one left out here but you and me.

Do you know how far we are from town? I bet that's why you booked this place, right? A nice, isolated cabin where you and your friends can party as loud as you want. That backfired pretty bad, didn't it? They screamed and screamed and no one heard 'em.

You're crying again. Is it grief or guilt?

Don't worry, baby. I'm here to kiss it all better.

Killing is... You probably think I'm a fucking serial killer, don't you? Guess I probably am. That's the kind of thing they call you when the bodies start stacking up, ain't it?

Thing is, it's never planned out. I don't do this shit for pleasure. At least, not the way you think.

It's like there's this pressure in my head. Building. Getting worse all the time. Only thing that makes it go away is this. Killing.

No, I don't know why they haven't caught me either. Like I said, I don't plan this shit out. It just happens. Like something inside me snaps and my head won't go quiet until its over.

You look scared. Guess I would be too, if some bastard covered in blood had me tied to the bed.

You're the last one, y'know. In case you're still wondering.

All your friends are dead. Even that flighty little bitch who tried running through the woods. Fuck, that was so annoying. Bet she was an annoying friend to have too, huh? I saw the way she was grinding up on your boyfriend last night. You shoulda put her in her place. 'Swhat I would have done. Bash her pretty face in and see how much your boyfriend likes her then.

Sorry. Got a bit worked up for a second.

We've already established I'm not the most... balanced person. So maybe don't do what I do.

I never talk this much. Don't really have a lot of people to talk to. Those fuckers at work are all brain dead, and my friends are mostly in the pen. Hard to talk when they've only got half an hour a week on the phones.

You look like you're the type to listen though. Sweet. Caring. Type to give a kid a kiss on the knee when they fall off their bike and start howling.

Y'know, I almost feel bad about this. But I guess you should know for sure, given what comes next. Might stop you from feeling like you're cheating or something.

You boyfriend is dead.

Thought he was gonna give me some trouble, big guy like that.

Nah. Bled like a stuck pig. Barely knew how to fight. Dissapointing honestly.

You're crying again. Is it the fact that your boyfriend is dead or the fact that I've got you all pinned up under me while I talk about him?

Either way, I like it when you cry.

Yeah, I know. Yet another fucked up thing to like. I mean, I know it's fucked. But I can't help it. It's the way I'm wired.

You must be wondering why you're still alive.

Truth is, I'm not sure either. I don't get, like, turned on when I kill. It's not enjoyable that way, y'know?

But seeing you run away from me? Scrambling like hell, almost making it? Yeah, that sure as fuck turned me on.

Don't look so surprised. I'm literally on top of you, what did you think was gonna happen?

Oh, and now you're squirming again. Can you at least let me finish talking first?

Stop it. Quit fucking moving so much. Hey -

I said FUCKING STOP.

There. Nice and quiet now that I've got a hand on your throat.

Anyway, where was I?

Right, I don't get turned on by this shit. I try not to do it at all, but that's plain impossible. My head goes all weird and then something small sets me off and next thing I know there's a dead cashier or an old lady with their head bashed in.

I've been trying to find other ways of letting off steam. Nothing works. Nothing scratches that itch.

Well, that's what I thought. Until I ran into you.

Y'know, your friend group is the only time I've done this shit premeditated? I spent all night watching you. I'm the one who pulled the spark plugs out of your car. I'm the one who tripped the lights. That was particularly fun. Had people stumbling over dead bodies in the dark and then screaming their heads off.

It was the most fun I've ever had. And I think the whole reason is you.

At the back of my mind, I knew I was going to save you for last. Like a little treat.

Oh, you don't like that at all, do you? You're crying even harder. Didn't think that was possible.

Don't wanna be my dessert? Don't wanna be all sweet for me? That's too fucking bad, sweetheart. 'Cause only one of us has a knife and it sure as hell ain't you.

At first, I thought I was just going to kill you. Maybe take my time with it. See what it's like when I think things through.

But then I caught you. Actually held you against my body while your kicked and screamed.

I don't know what makes you so special.

All I know is that when I finally had my hands on you... I stopped thinking about killing.

Maybe I just got all that shit out of my system when I was busy with your friends. But I don't think that's the whole truth.

When I hauled you up here and tied you up... I gotta be honest, my thoughts were getting real filthy.

That's new. Like I said, this shit doesn't turn me on. I've never had fantasies about... well, I guess we should call a spade a spade, huh? I've never gotten turned on thinking about forcing someone.

But that's exactly what I'm going to do to you. We both know it.

Hey, no turning away. No closing your eyes like I'm some boogeyman that will just go away. Look at me. I said -

Look. At. Me.

Mhm, ain't that pretty? So fucking scared. You make me feel like a God.

Tell me something sweetheart, am I your type? If I wasn't covered in blood and stuff. Don't worry, you can be honest.

No? Didn't think so. Your boyfriend looked sweet. Kind of guy who asks if he can kiss you and hold your hand and all that sappy shit. Me? Well, we both know I ain't asking before I take what I want.

Y'know, it's funny. When I was a kid, I ended up in juvie. Over some stupid shit. Vandalism or something. Can't remember. But when I was in there they had this shrink. Used to single me out all the time for extra sessions. Said he was worried about some "escalating violent tendencies" or something. I didn't really listen.

But now? I think he might've been onto something. I just kill to scratch the itch, y'know? But this? What I'm about to do to you? Oh baby, it's all pleasure.

It's going to be a real fucking pleasure to screw you, sweetheart.

Ha. Look at you go. You really think you can fight me off now? Bit late to try the muay thai, doll.

Where should I start? I think we'll go with your shirt. I've been wanting to see what's under your bra ever since I saw you in your bikini.

Hmm, your hands are in the way with the way I've got you tied. Guess I'll just have to rip it. Hope it didn't have sentimental value.

Just gonna grab it by the collar and...

Would you look at that? Shit tore like fucking paper. Guess that's the universe's way of giving me the go ahead.

Let's toss it. Get to the good stuff.

Oh. Oh my. Is that a lace bra? My favorite colour too.

Aww, did you dress up all pretty for me, sweetheart?

Let me just... Fuck, your tits feel fucking amazing. The perfect size for me. Cute little nipples too. I wonder what happens if I pinch 'em like this...

Baby, was that a moan? Did you just moan for me?

Ha! Didn't know you were such a slut. Thought for sure you were the sweet little girl-next-door. Barley been kissed, barley been fingered, never been fucked.

Don't get all shy now. No use hiding your face. We both heard it.

How about we just say that your body betrayed you? Would that make you feel better? I can fuck you good and proper and when you come you can pretend you didn't enjoy it. There, will that help you sleep at night?

No answer. Guess you can't really give one. And even if I did take that gag off, I reckon you wouldn't have much to say beyond, "Please don't fuck me Mr Serial Killer! I'm saving it for marriage!"

Hmm. Maybe I'm not so opposed to that - hearing you beg a little. Especially with those pretty tears in your eyes.

...No. I'll save that for later. For now...

I hate to cut your bra off, sweetheart. It looks real expensive. But I'll buy you a new one, promise. Victoria's Secret or whatever you want.

Look at you freezing up. Don't like feeling my knife tracing up your belly? Here, why don't you feel it at your throat too?

Sharp, ain't it? Even after everything I've used it for.

You're not going to keep giving me a hard time, are you? I can fuck you with my knife at your throat the entire time if I have to. Awful dangerous that. One little slip...

Yeah, you're gonna be good for me. I can see it in your eyes.

Let's get back to it then. Gotta say, I'm getting hard just playing with you like this. Dragging the tip of my knife down your chest, slipping it under your bra... it's such a pretty sight.

Hold still for this part. Don't wanna cut you too bad.

The straps first. And now the band...

Shiiiit doll, it's even better than I hoped. Look at those tits.

You don't mind if get a taste do you?

Mhhmmm. So warm. I kind of want to just...

Hah, look at the way you squirm when I bite your nipples. What's wrong, gorgeous? Worried I'm gonna leave a mark? Worried your boyfriend is gonna find out? I think he's beyond caring at this point.

Speaking of marks, I've always wanted to give a girl a lovebite. Ma used to say it was trashy, but I think it's kind of sexy. Walking around and everyone knowing you've been fucked.

Here, tilt your head to the side a little. I want to kiss your neck.

Was that a shiver? Don't like me so close, is that it? I ain't gonna bite out your jugular like a dog. At least, not today.

Hmmm, you smell amazing. How the hell do girls do that? Smell like fucking strawberries and shit? Makes me want to gobble you right up.

How do you feel right now, I wonder. Big, scary killer kissing your neck and saying you smell good. I wonder if this shit turns you on. I've heard some girls are really into this "dark romance" stuff. Don't really think I'm being romantic right now, but who's to say?

Why don't we check?

Hey, I'm just unbuttoning your jeans. Quit trying to buck me off.

I could fucking cut them off, if you want me to use my knife so bad.

Yeah, that's what I thought. All nice and sweet for me when I mention the knife. Fucking ridiculous. I can kill you just as easy with my bare hands.

See? You've gone and pissed me off. I was trying to be nice to you. I'm not even going to bother anymore, if you're going to be like that.

Matching panties. Fuck, I'm not even in the mood to appreciate them anymore.

Just gonna rip them off and get straight to it.

Two fingers enough for you sweetheart? Goddamn, look at you arching off the bed. Two fingers too fucking much, apparently.

Shit, you're tight. Must not want this at all. Not surprising. I reckon if I play a bit with my fingers, you'll loosen up. Biology and all that.

God, it's so fucking sick seeing my fingers sliding into you like this. You're getting my gloves all slick and wet. Bet that must feel real strange, huh? Getting finger fucked while I'm still wearing my gloves?

Guess I was right about the dark romance thing. You're soaking. Does this shit really turn you on? Hell, you're about as sick and twisted as me, if that's really the case.

Don't like that, do you? Yeah, I can tell.

You make such cute noises, you know that? All these little gasps and whines. Not like that fake shit you see in porn.

Didn't think I'd be getting so turned on just fingering a girl, but hell baby, I'm 'bout to burst my jeans.

I can't believe I'm about to do this, but it's too late to stop now. Let's get my belt off...

Aaaah, that's so much better. Was fucking strangling my cock. Here, let me grab your thighs and hook your knees over my shoulders.

Yeah, this is perfect. Let's me hold onto your hips real nice.

Can you feel that, sweetheart? My cock rubbing up against your pussy?

Stop shaking your head like that's gonna stop me. Kicking and screaming and crying ain't stopped me, what makes you think I'll change my mind now?

Give me a second. I want to look at you properly. Make sure I remember this for the rest of my life. The first time I'm fucking my girl and ain't she prettier than a picture? Not even my wettest dreams could have come up with something so perfect.

Only one thing in the world could possibly makes this better.

See my knife? Feel the way I'm pressing it against your cheek? Remember that feeling when I slice your gag off.

I want to hear three words. That's it. Anything else and I start cutting, got it?

Good. Now, here's what I want you to say.

"Please fuck me."

You got that? No begging me to stop. No asking me to go slow. Just begging me to fuck you. Nothing else.

And if you ruin this for me, sweetheart? If you fuck up my perfect fantasy? You'll be joining your friends. I don't need you breathing to fuck you. Just warm. Understand?

Good.

There. Your gag is off. What do you say?

Ha! Baby, how can I resist when you ask so nice? Sure honey, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you so hard my cock will brand itself inside your belly. Ready?

Fuuuucckk.

Oh God, you're the hottest cunt I've ever had. Just wanna stay here for the rest of my life, deep inside you.

Here, let me press my hand against your lower belly when I start thrusting.

Shit, I can actually feel it.

I can feel my dick inside you. Heh, guess I'm a little too big for you afterall.

You're sucking me in, you know that? Your pussy wants me. Don't matter that I'm practically splitting you in half. Your filthy, whore cunt still wants me.

Aww, look at the way you flinch when I swear. Bet your boyfriend never said a single mean thing to you in his life, huh?

God, it's hard to keep so slow. But I'm managing it, just for you. Giving you time to adjust. See? I can be a gentleman too sometimes. Say thank you.

I said, say thank you.

Sure thing, doll. I'll do anything for you. Well, anything except let you go. Ain't gonna be doing that anytime soon, not with how perfect you are for me.

Never had a fuck this good in my life. Didn't think it could get this good.

Hey, don't look away from me. Did I say you could look away from me?

Do I gotta grab your face and force you?

There. Let me see those pretty eyes. Let me see the fear and the pain and the guilt. Give me everything, baby. I want it all. Every part you have to give. Your body. Your soul. They'll all be mine by the time I'm through.

Can't keep holding back. Grab the sheets if you have to, but I'm not slowing down after this.

That's it. Fucking take it.

Take it take it take it. Take my cock and beg for more.

Pretty little slut, I'm gonna fuck you rotten and raw. Ain't known the meaning of getting dicked down until I came along.

Fuck, that's it. Cry for me. Let me see those tears.

Listen to you, repeating what I told you to say like it's going to save you. Just makes me want you more, baby.

Hell, you're tight. Gonna cum inside you. Gonna mark you up. Gonna make you mine.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were made for me, I get it now. Made just for me. No one else is ever going to touch you. I'll kill them. I'll kill you.

Take it, bitch. Take my cock and keep begging for more.

Nothing could pull me out of you. Not heaven or hell or judgement day. This is right where I belong. Inside you. Raping you.

Yeah, that's exactly what this is. Ain't no use denying it. I see you shaking your head like hearing the word makes it real.

That's what I am, aren't I? Your rapist.

And you're still begging me to fuck you.

Oh, you're fucked, doll. Well and truly fucked.

Open your mouth. I want to lean forward and let my spit drop into your mouth while I screw you bleeding.

Swallow.

Good.

You're never going to get the taste out, y'know that? I'm always going to be a part of you - my spit, my cum, all of it. Inside you forever.

You can scrub away my touch but you'll never outlive these memories, baby. I've burnt myself into your head.

Even if I let you go, I'll always be with you. More than your boyfriend. More than any lover you've had or will have.

It's me. It's always going to be me. Your worst fucking nightmare made real.

Tell me you want it. Say you want me to fill you up. Beg me.

Yeah, that's it. Just give in, baby. Stop holding yourself so stiff and just let it happen. Enjoy it.

Bet your man never fucked you this hard, huh? Bet your cunt was dying to be filled with a real cock.

Here, let me move your legs down so they're around my waist instead. I want to kiss you.

No, don't shake your head. You let me spit in your mouth but you don't want to let me kiss you? The hell kind of prude mentality is that?

I'm just going to... yeah, grab a fistful of your hair so you can't keep avoiding me. Look into my eyes, baby. Look at the man who owns you.

Mmhmm, you taste like cotton candy. How the hell do you taste so sweet?

It's kind of cute how inexperienced you are. Got no idea how to kiss a man properly. But it's okay, love. I'll teach you. I'll teach you plenty - how to kiss, how to take cock, how to suck dick.

Better than a college education and all it costed was the lives of your friends. Sweet deal, huh?

Here, kiss me again. No, I don't mean just holding still while I kiss you. I mean I want you lean up and kiss me like you want me back.

No? No?

Listen bitch, you don't get to say no.

Not to me, not ever. Do I have to grab your jaw so hard I leave bruises?

Kiss me back. I'm not fucking asking.

Why the hesitation anyway? I'm in your cunt, aren't I? There ain't any modesty left between us.

Or is it one of those special things? Like how backdoor doesn't count as losing it before marriage?

No, not quite. I think it's more so about the uh intimacy. Yeah, I reckon that's what this is about. Kisses are special. Only for the man you love. Sure, I'm balls deep inside you but if you don't kiss me, it ain't so bad. Is that right? Did I get it?

Hmm, from the way you're avoiding my eyes I reckon I hit the nail on the head.

Baby, do you really think there's anything you can keep from me? I told you once already, I'm taking it all. Everything you would have given your boyfriend, your husband, your true love. All that and more.

So, kiss me back.

That's it. Good girl, taking orders like a champ.

I think I won't ever get tired of your mouth. Kissing you...

C'mere, I want some more.

What's that, doll? You asking me why I stopped moving? Guess I just want to bury myself inside you a little longer. Don't want this to end.

'S hard though. Hanging on so long. If I didn't like you so much I would have busted ages ago.

Hmm, this is nice too. I could get used to this. Cockwarming. Never saw the appeal, but then I've never had a cunt as velvety soft as yours.

You're kind of cringing, why is that?

Hurts? Oh, you mean when I stay still? Yeah, I reckon that's a whole different type of hurt, ain't it?

Want me to start moving again?

Yes? Ha! Never thought I'd hear you say it, doll. Say it and mean it, too.

Let me start moving again and -

Huh. You're liking this. Or at least your body is. You're kinda shifting around to meet me when I fuck into you. Don't think you even realise you're doing it.

Aww, are you embarrassed? Don't hide it from me, sweetheart. I think it's cute that you want to fuck me back. Makes my heart all soft and warm and shit.

Got me feeling - what's it called again - yeah, paternal. Got me feeling like I should take care of you. Should kiss those tears away.

I reckon we're about the same age, but that don't matter. I feel all...protective. Like I ought to lock you away, keep you safe from all the other bastards in the world.

Sorry. I think I'm a little cunt drunk. Got me sayin' the dumbest, sappiest shit.

I reckon we ought to finish this, yeah? Aww, look at you nodding and agreeing with me. You want my cum that bad, doll? Don't worry, I'll give it to you. Give you every drop.

Need to go deeper. Need some leverage.

Oh, this'll do nicely. One hand on your hip and one around your throat. Let's me pull you back onto my dick with every thrust.

Your throat feels so fucking right when I hold you like this. Gives me all the power in the world. One little squeeze and I've stolen your air right alongside everything else I've taken.

Look at the way you're squirming. I think you're 'bout to come. Didn't think I could wring it out of you, but I reckon it's just another sign that we're meant for each other.

Let me pick you up a little, wrap my arm around your waist so you're bouncing on my cock. Hmm, I can kiss your neck like this too.

Shit, that's so much tighter. You're strangling my dick, baby. Go easy, God.

Oh, fuck I'm so close. I think you are too.

Where's my knife? Hey, don't squirm, I'm just gonna cut your hands loose. There.

Here, wrap them around my - huh, guess I don't have to tell you. Mmm, really diggin' your nails in, ain'tcha? Holdin' onto me like I'm the last lifeline in the whole world.

No, don't move. I like it like this. All pressed up against you.

Gonna hold onto my knife though. Can't have your hands loose and leave my knife lyin' around. Nah, don't worry. I ain't gonna hurt you with it. Just gonna keep it in my hand.

God, baby. Do that again. Grind on me again.

Mhmm, that's so...

Sorry. But I'm not holdin' back anymore. We're finishing this.

Hold on tight. I'm gonna give you the best ride of your life.

Hahh, listen to you whinin'. Fucked all the thoughts right outta your head, didn't I? You ain't even usin' words no more.

You're close. I can tell. Just come for me, doll. Quit worryin' 'bout right and wrong. Just shut your brain off and let your pussy get what she needs.

Thaaat's it. Keep grinding on my cock.

Fuck, I can feel every little tremor and squeeze.

Yes, just like that. Come on, come on now. Give in, baby. It was a losing fight from the start.

Oh God, that's it. You're squeezing me to hell, baby.

Dammit, I can't hold on much longer.

Fuck, oh fuck. That's it, yeah that's it. Take it. Take it. FUCKING TAKE IT.

Take my cum, baby. Have every drop of it.

I fucking love you. I do.

My fuckdoll, my pretty girl. Take every drop baby, you've earned it.

Damn. I can't - I can't even talk. Gimmme a minute. I just... needa catch my breath.

Fucking hell.

Hey, c'mere. No pulling away now. I want to keep holding you so close.

Just let me rest my head on your neck for a sec, okay?

Mhhmm. You still smell so good. But I can smell the sex on you now too. You're like a bitch after heat.

I like it. Like smelling myself on you.

Shh, no crying. Just hang onto me. Dig your nails in, if it makes you feel better.

You're my girl. I'll take care of you. I promise.

No, I'm not pulling out. I'm going to keep you plugged up. Don't want to waste all that hard earned cum, do you?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Shhh, baby, shhh. You're okay. I've got you.

Here, let me move the hair out of your face. I want to look at you.

Ah, there she is. My girl.

Look at those eyes... You're even prettier now, baby. Didn't think it was possible, but it's true. The way you're looking at me... All soft and defenceless... It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen.

You look surprised. I can be nice too, y'know. Just got to get all the cruelty out of my system.

Ma used to say it was the devil. Used to call it my devil face. When I'd get so bad that I'd kick the cat or pinch the baby or set things on fire.

I bet I scared you real bad, huh? Your whole body is shaking.

Shhh, you're okay. I've calmed down now, see? I'm not going to keep hurting you.

Here, I'll even hum you a song. The lullaby my ma used to sing me whenever I had a nightmare. And I reckon this sure as hell is a nightmare for you. The worst night you've ever had.

C'mere, put your head on my shoulder.

There, a little better isn't it? You're not crying anymore.

What's that, doll? Did you say something?

Will I let you go? Oh, honey. What a silly question...

I can't. Even if we ignore the fact that you've seen my face and heard my voice and have my DNA all over you, I don't want to let you go.

I wasn't lying. I think I'm falling in love with you. And I realised something. Fucking you... it's even better than killing. Doesn't scratch the exact same itch, no. But it comes pretty damn close.

Close enough that I think I'll be able to hold off. Close enough that I think my head will stay on straight if I have you around.

Not guaranteed. I can't control this shit, God knows I've tried. But maybe there's a chance.

I'm not letting you go, love. No way in hell.

You're the best damn fuck I've ever had.

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Day 2 - Secret Obsession (2019)

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Day 4 - The Perfect Guy (2015)

Day 5 - The Boy Next Door (2015)

Day 6 - The Invisible Man (2020)

Day 7 - Til Death Do Us Part (2017)

Taglist: @jsprien213 @trolleri-trollera @mel-vaz

[sangunary]

Other Side Of Life.

Yandere batboy × reader.

Synopsis: After being captured by batman you're now forced to live with his mentally deranged sons.

Warning: violence, nonconsensual touching/kissing, breaking ankle, stalking, creepy behaviour.

Never in eons could you imagine to be taken by batman himself.

It was a total dream to be able to leave behind the life of being in the street of Gotham, filled with vile and disgusting people ready to strike havoc any moment.

You didn't have to worry about food or water anymore. You didn't have to beg anyone to pity you and humiliate yourself for a penny now.

Drenched by the rain as your messy hair somewhat helps to hide your face, you couldn't even face him. He was a hero and you were just some thief taking a big opportunity.

Batman was like an angel sent by God to you, taking a low life like you and giving you a place you could call home.

He didn't hesitate you could tell, just saw you standing there under the rain with his batarang which you intended to sold for money.

To him you weren't the hideous and dirty kid you reflect upon yourself, you were just a kid that needed help and a family.

That's why he took you in without hesitation.

But, he could never imagined how him taking you in and providing you with wealth and a 'family' was way worse than leaving you on the street that faithful night.

Dick was the first person you were introduced to, he was older and much more chaotic than you could ever be.

He was excited to see you, holding your hands and taking you to his room showing you his stuff and already planning a way to share his room or any of the stuff he owns.

He was the first you warmed up to without thinking.

You two grew up together.

But as time's get old things started to felt off.

Ever since the day you fist step your foot inside the manor Dick was attached to you by the hip, hugging or even atleast a little contact with you was a must.

Bruce thought that Dick was clingy because he obviously was traumatized by his parents death and you being close to his age might have something to do with the clingy action. He wasn't wrong at all.

To Dick you were one of the first person ge felt somewhat comfortable around, ever since the death of his parents he had some attachments issue, afraid that anyone he love would die so he rather have himself surgically attached to you than leave you alone.

As he grew the haunting feeling of his hand remain, sometimes he'll be bold enough to place it on your waist or fully cuddling with you during movie night.

His warmth was extremely comfortable he knew and took advantage of that by forcing you to sit extremely close to him. As the movie progress he would lean closer, his hands clinging around your shoulder or stomach.

Before you could even tell what's the matter with him your head would be on his chest his head resting on yours, his hands around your stomach or if he's feeling great your thigh.

He was also the reason you didn't have any good enough friends in middle and elementary school.

Bruce being the overprotective father send you to the same school as him. At first it was alright you had Dick and you weren't that bad at making friends, it was supposed to be easy.

Dick made everything difficult, he wasn't in the same class as you but he did held somewhat of a contract over your own class. Making the girl's that like him spend time's with you and telling them to not let you talk to any girl or boy other than them or himself.

You found it ridiculous but he did excuse himself.

Telling you that the world was too bitter and dead for someone like you and how you would appreciate him soon enough.

He would deliberately ruin your date by accidentally crashing it or by scaring the guy away. No one ever had a crush on you and that was like a rule.

The worse you ever saw him was during his first debut as Nightwing.

You never really like the vigilante life and Bruce knowing this information completely forbidden you to be one. He himself announced that you do not need further issue by being a vigilante and he wanted you to pursue what you wanted in life.

Dick completely agree but he just wish you could atleast be an assistant.

"Little bird, you do realise that I have to live in blüdhaven now?" His voice struck out as you continue making your coffee.

With a small hum you replied a yes, you didn't bother to even stare or stop your movement.

"I was thinking, how about you stay with me? The manor is too big and I just wanted you to help me" Dick spoke.

You could tell that he was walking towards you, his presence becoming more intense.

He place his hands by your side trapping you. You were now standing between him and the marble counter.

You could felt his breath on your neck as he tilted his head towards your ear leaning in.

You felt defeated, after all the year you spent with batman you weren't the best at responding to situation like this. It made you feel weak and somewhat fearful.

"What do you say, birdie'?" his voice was low and clear, his right hand slowly retreading only for you to felt it on your waist.

His hand slowly wrap around your waist like a snake as your breath hitched. His tone felt like there was only one right answer... It felt threating.

You were about to reply until Bruce walk in the kitchen and Dick hurriedly change his position.

Jason Todd the second son and Batman worst failure.

He was a sweet and active boy, when he first saw you he wasn't shy he went straight to the point and called you strange...

He was just like Dick as a kid but less flexible and more immature.

You showed him around the house and he even complimented your room decoration.

During his days as Robin he would give you small gift like plucked flowers and if he's feeling good a little jewelery not too expensive or cheap.

You two matched eachother and connect really fast, maybe because you two did came from similar situation.

But after his death he was a different person.

He wasn't the Todd you knew he was just violent and extremely possessive of you and everything you count as yours.

Everytime you enter your bedroom there was a high chance that Todd would be sitting manspreading on your chair or bed. Like a hungry predator waiting for it's prey.

Sometimes when he is mad he would break some of your things or vases inside the manor and left it laying on your bed as a way to tell you to stop angering him.

He wasn't good at talking and his ways of telling you things were puzzling at times.

Being around him was like screaming 'dont talk to me'. Even if any guy or girl is brave enough to strike a conversation it'll end quickly.

"He-" "Who the hell do you think you are talking?" His voice was already low and threating...

"im just going to as-" "Piss off before I break your nose".

He was over protective and affectionate in his ways, you protested but he would only just stare down at you and scoff.

"What do you know about the true world, you've been trapped inside that shitty manor for year's on end... Don't try to lecture me on life, doll" he would spit out.

He called you delicate and fragile like a doll, you needed to be preserved and he's there to help you. He wouldn't let a finger ruin your purity he reserved that for himself.

He didn't understand why you resisted him too much, it was a normal day. You didn't even expected to see him in your room and the moment you saw his figure you didn't even have time to scream.

His hands instantly went and grab you pushing you onto your bed as his lips met yours. In a messy and aggressive kiss he pushed himself futher onto you.

Your struggling doesn't matter, the scare you were leaving by scratching his biceps as hard as you could even leaving faint blood did not matter, all those violent only lead to him wanting more.

Sloppy kissing you and wishing you claim you that same night. He wanted you to under that it was supposed to be and resisting would only lead to exhaustion and failure.

You didn't know how tough and rought the world was... and those so called hero could never compete against him, that is why he's the one you needed not his stupid sibling or his replacement.

Tim was the weirdest and most intelligent.

He became Robin because he wanted to and at first you didn't even try to open up to him.

Tim was fully aware of Bruce identity and yours as well. It was creepy on how informed he was about you when everything about you was kept very private.

He was a true nerd and a try hard, he was always competiting with Jason... Giving you a bouquet because he knew Jason used to give you flower during his day as Robin.

He even went further by writing you letters extremely long one, detailing your everyday life and his weird feeling which he explained in a very detailed and gruesome way.

Each letter were written in such ways you couldn't help but somewhat felt alerted.

Tim was constantly up your personal life. If you weren't present in the manor he would call or text you atleast one time per minutes.

Asking you where you were, who you were with, your location, media of the people your with and even asking for you to face call so he cab make clarify that you were safe.

He doesn't need to go that far he knew exactly where you were but he would never passed an opportunity to hear your voice, or even show you how capable he is of taking care of you.

"Where were you?" he questioned, you already answered him three times but he kept repeating himself.

You were getting tired so you just ignored him.

"You don't even realised how idiotic it was to step into Gotham without informing me or atleast Alfred!" He continued, you could felt his gaze and how pissed off he was.

He kept on yelling, you couldn't tell if he was unhinged or just the lack of sleep getting into him.

But you never thought he would physically attacked you.

Tim angered went out of control and he pounced at you, you yelled scream and scratched him nothing worked.

His hand went for your ankle and before you could even do anything you heard yourself scream your lungs out and s sharp pain you felt sending shock throughout your body.

The scrunching sound of your bone breaking was loud you could clearly hear it... Hot tears stream down your cheek as you instinctively hold onto your broken knee.

Tim's hand reach for your cheek and wipe the tear... as he lick the tear from his finger a smirk on his face.

He didn't want you to disobey and talk to anyone beyond the Manor, all you needed was them. But, you liked walking abit too much and he had no choice but to break your ankle.

It was the most logical way to solve the problem, if you continue being bad he would wait for your ankle to heal and only for him to break it. He would repeat that process until you learn to listen.

[calypso-rt]

spring break

-> FratBoy!Rafe x Smart!Reader

SUMMARY: When your sorority best friend ropes you into a chaotic spring break trip to Cabo with a bunch of frat boys, you’re already dreading the party-fueled disaster ahead. Then, you find out Rafe Cameron is coming, and somehow, it only gets worse.

“You’re coming to Cabo.”

You don’t even get a hello. Just a demand, lobbed at you from across the library table where your best friend, Savannah, is aggressively highlighting her Intro to Communications notes like she’s studying for the MCAT.

“No, I’m not.” You don’t even look up from your laptop.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m really not.”

Savannah huffs, snapping her highlighter shut. “Oh my god, would you just live a little? It’s spring break. It’s Cabo. It’s funded.”

That makes you pause. You narrow your eyes. “Funded by who?”

“The boys.”

And just like that, your interest dies a quick, painful death.

Savannah is in a sorority. A very enthusiastic one. Which means most of her life is entangled with frat boys, whose biggest life aspirations seem to be shotgunning beers and perfecting the art of the backward hat. You do not do frat boys.

“Absolutely not,” you say, turning back to your essay. “I’m not spending a week with a bunch of guys who can’t spell ‘Cabo’ sober.”

Savannah pouts. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, you need this. When’s the last time you had fun?”

“I have fun.”

She snorts. “Name one time.”

You open your mouth. Pause. Think.

She smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan. “I can’t just drop everything to go party for a week.”

“Yes, you can! You’re literally a genius, you’re ahead in all your classes. You don’t even need to study. And when’s the last time you touched a man?”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

She grins. “Come on, you need a little chaos in your life. A little tequila. Maybe a hot vacation hookup—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “But you’re still coming.”

You eventually cave. Because Savannah is persistent and a little scary when she wants to be. And, fine, maybe she has a point. Maybe you do need to loosen up.

So you agree. Bags are packed. You’re mentally preparing yourself…

And then you hear his name.

“Wait, Rafe is coming?”

Savannah gives you a look. “Duh. He’s literally paying for, like, the whole trip.”

You blanch in disbelief. “You left that part out.”

“Because I knew you’d freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you lie. “I just think he’s a menace to society.”

Rafe Cameron. Walking red flag, heir to his father’s obscene wealth, professional douchebag. You’ve known him for a while, mostly because he’s always around. Always smirking, always making some smug comment that makes your eye twitch.

And now you’re supposed to be stuck in Cabo with him for a week?

“I hate you,” you tell Savannah.

…

You saw him immediately.

Which was annoying, because why did Rafe Cameron have the kind of presence that made him impossible to ignore? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

He was leaning against the check-in counter, lazily twirling his passport between his fingers, looking too good for someone about to spend hours crammed into an economy-class seat. (Or maybe not… he definitely upgraded.) His shirt was perfectly unbuttoned at the top, his sunglasses pushed into his hair, his expression smug as ever.

And, of course, he was surrounded by people. Girls, mostly. Savannah’s sorority sisters. They were laughing, flipping their hair, practically competing for his attention.

But the second his eyes landed on you?

They all ceased to exist.

His lips curled into a slow, annoying smirk. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite scholar.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping the strap of your carry-on. “Don’t talk to me.”

His smirk deepened. He ignored literally everyone else, taking a step closer, tilting his head like he was so interested in your reaction. “You wound me, sweetheart. You’re not excited to see me?”

“Not even remotely.”

“Damn.” He pressed a hand to his chest like you’d physically hurt him. “And here I was thinking you’d missed me.”

“I forget you exist the second you leave the room.”

“Sure you do.”

You refused to engage further. Refused. You turned to Savannah, who was watching this interaction like it was free entertainment.

“Tell me again why I’m here?”

“For the memories,” she chirped.

“Memories,” Rafe repeated, like he found that hilarious. “That’s one way to put it.”

You scowled at him. “What’s your way?”

He grinned. “Bad decisions.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should have. then, the gate announcement came over the speakers, and everything went to hell.

First, check-in was a nightmare.

Half the group, including Rafe, because of course, was randomly selected for additional security screening. You stood there, arms crossed, watching as the TSA agent patted him down, your lips twitching.

He caught your expression and smirked. “Enjoying the show?”

“You probably deserve it.”

“For what?”

You gestured vaguely. “General crimes.”

He grinned, but before he could respond, Savannah grabbed your arm. “We’re going to miss the flight if they don’t hurry the hell up.”

And that’s when you realized.

The flight was boarding. And half your group was still getting frisked like they were on a watchlist.

“Sir, you need to remove your watch.”

The TSA agent was done with Rafe. Everyone was done with Rafe.

He scoffed. “I can’t remove my watch.”

“Sir, it needs to go in the bin.”

“You don’t understand. This isn’t just any watch.”

“Rafe,” you groaned. “For the love of god.”

He ignored you. “It’s a Rolex.”

The agent stared, unamused. “And?”

“And?” Rafe gestured wildly. “I’m not putting it in a plastic tub next to some dude’s crusty Air Forces.”

“Take it off or you don’t get on the plane.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I swear, I will leave you here.”

Rafe sighed dramatically, but finally took it off, muttering about how this was “basically robbery.” You shoved him through security before he could make it worse.

And then, just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get more chaotic, someone (Topper, obviously) got lost on the way to the gate.

By the time you reached the gate, it was full panic mode.

The flight was already boarding. The gate agent looked one second away from giving your seats away. Everyone was running. Savannah was yelling into her phone. Topper was “two minutes away,” which, judging by his sense of time, meant twenty.

You were about to lose it.

And then, Rafe.

Because of course, instead of helping, he was just laughing.

You whirled on him. “Why are you smiling?”

“This is hilarious.”

“This is a disaster.”

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart.” He slung an arm around your shoulders, completely ignoring your look of deepest betrayal. “What’s a vacation without a little chaos?”

And the worst part?

It was only just beginning

…

You had been prepared for the worst.

You had been prepared for middle seats, crying babies, and a solid four hours of discomfort because of course this group of people wouldn’t have planned anything properly.

What you had not been prepared for was this.

You blinked at your boarding pass. Then at Savannah. Then back at the little piece of paper in your hands.

“Sav,” you said slowly. “Why does my ticket say first class?”

Savannah winced. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Rafe kinda… paid for the tickets.”

Your eye twitched. “And?”

“And he got himself first class, obviously.” She bit her lip. “And… you.”

You stared at her. Then at Rafe, who was standing a few feet away, looking very pleased with himself.

You stormed over. “What the hell, Cameron?”

He turned, all slow amusement, taking in your expression like he was thriving off it. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. Why am I in first class?”

His grin widened. “Because I put you there.”

“No. No, you don’t just—” You gestured wildly. “Why?”

He tilted his head. “Would you rather be in economy?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Because I can switch your ticket,” he mused, already reaching for it. “You can sit next to Kelce. I think he was planning on getting absolutely obliterated before takeoff.”

You snatched it back before he could. Mistake. Because now he knew you weren’t going to give it up.

And he grinned.

“Uh huh,” he said. “That’s what I thought.”

You exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

He just slung an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the gate. “C’mon, sweetheart. First class awaits.”

…

You had barely sat down before you realized your next mistake.

You should have fought harder. You should have taken your chances in economy. Because this?

This was just another opportunity for Rafe to be Rafe.

The second you settled into the ridiculously comfortable seat, he turned to you, stretching out like he was made for luxury.

“Y’know,” he said, watching you buckle your seatbelt, “I could get used to this.”

“You already are used to this,” you muttered.

He ignored you, eyes glinting with amusement. “Bet you’re glad I put you up here now, huh?”

You refused to give him the satisfaction. “Not really.”

“Liar.”

You scowled. “I could be back there with my friends.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because being crammed in the middle seat between Topper and some random dude is so much better.”

You pursed your lips, crossing your arms.

He grinned, fully stretching out. “I’m a giver, sweetheart. I saw an opportunity to make your life easier, and I took it.”

“You just wanted to sit next to me.”

He didn’t even deny it. Just smirked, tipping his head against the seat.

“What can I say?” His voice was low, amused. “I like good company.”

You exhaled, staring straight ahead. This was going to be a long flight.

The flight attendant appeared with champagne.

Rafe plucked both glasses off the tray before you could even reach for one.

You turned to him. “Are you serious?”

He handed one over smoothly, smirking. “Just making sure you don’t back out on me now.”

You rolled your eyes, but took a sip anyway.

And that was your next mistake.

Because the way Rafe Cameron watched you over the rim of his glass, smirk lazy, eyes flicking down…

Yeah.

This was definitely going to be a long flight

…

It was absolute chaos.

The club was packed, pulsing with music so loud you could feel it in your chest. Neon lights flashed in dizzying colors, glinting off sweating bodies, plastic cups, and way too many shirtless frat boys.

You had barely made it through the door before Savannah had pulled you to the bar, laughing about “starting strong” while ordering shots like she was on a personal mission to get obliterated.

You, on the other hand?

You had one goal tonight.

Avoid Rafe Cameron at all costs.

He had been smug all day, from the airport to the hotel, from first class to baggage claim. You could feel his eyes on you always, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You were not letting him ruin your first night in Cabo.

Which was why you had been strategically moving through the club, bouncing between different groups, making yourself impossible to track.

At least, you thought you had.

You had just reached the dance floor, laughing as Savannah pulled you into a mess of swaying bodies when someone leaned down, breath warm against your ear.

“Running from me, sweetheart?”

Your stomach dropped.

You turned sharply, only to be met with him.

Rafe Cameron, all effortless amusement, watching you like you were his favorite thing in the entire club. His blue button-down was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up.m showing off his toned forearms.

Your pulse jumped…annoyance. Definitely annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded over the music.

He lifted a brow. “Drinking. Dancing. Watching you try to escape me.”

“I am not—”

His grin widened.

You huffed. “There are literally hundreds of girls here, Cameron. Go bother one of them.”

“Hmm.” He took a slow sip from his drink, eyes never leaving you. “Nah. I like this better.”

You scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

You turned sharply, refusing to give him the satisfaction, and disappeared back into the crowd.

You had just finally managed to have a conversation without somehow running into Rafe again when things took a turn.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, you found yourself cornered at the bar.

The guy wasn’t terrible.

He just wasn’t… good.

Too close. Too persistent. The kind of guy who kept touching your arm even though you hadn’t touched him once.

“You should let me buy you another drink,” he said, voice slurring slightly.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m good, thanks.”

“C’mon.” His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “One more.”

You shifted, already uncomfortable. “I should get back to my friends—”

And then, before you could react, a familiar hand landed on your waist.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” a voice drawled.

You froze.

Rafe.

Again.

The guy blinked, looking up. “Yo, man, I was just talking to her—”

“Yeah?” Rafe’s grip tightened. His voice was still light, still calm, but you felt the shift instantly. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

The guy glanced between the two of you, processing.

Then scoffed. “Whatever, dude.”

And left.

You exhaled, only now realizing just how tense you had been.

Rafe didn’t move.

You turned, looking up at him, expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to do that.”

His jaw clenched slightly. “Yeah, I did.”

Something about the seriousness in his voice made your stomach flip.

But before you could say anything, before you could think too hard about what was happening, he smirked.

“Still mad I followed you around all night?”

You shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

And, stupidly, ridiculously, unreasonably, you felt a little safer with him there

…

You should have known better.

But the second Topper and JJ started running their mouths, there was no way in hell you were backing down.

“I don’t think she can do it,” Topper said, arms crossed, grinning.

JJ snorted. “Of course not. She’s smart, man. Smart girls don’t drink like us. It’s, like, scientifically proven.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just made that up.”

“Maybe,” JJ shrugged. “Point still stands.”

And that was it.

That was all it took for your highly competitive self.

Now, you were sitting at a table in the middle of the club, with way too many empty shot glasses in front of you, staring down the final round of what had become a full-fledged, all-out, death match of a drinking game.

JJ and Topper had both tapped out.

The only ones left?

You.

And some guy named Ryan who had apparently been in a frat for seven years.

The crowd around you had gotten bigger. People were chanting your name. Someone had started recording.

Ryan wobbled in his seat, swaying. “You good?” he slurred.

You grinned, drunk and victorious. “Never better.”

Then you picked up your final shot, downed it without flinching, and slammed the glass onto the table.

The room erupted.

JJ was yelling. Topper was yelling. People were high-fiving you like you just won the Super Bowl.

Ryan?

Ryan collapsed.

(Okay, he didn’t actually collapse, but he definitely groaned and put his head down, which meant victory.)

You turned to JJ and smirked. “What was that about smart girls not being able to drink?”

JJ gaped. “Dude.”

Topper shook his head. “That was insane.”

You leaned back in your chair, fully prepared to bask in your victory…

Until someone appeared behind you, large hands bracing on the back of your chair.

A very familiar someone.

“You’re an idiot,” Rafe drawled, amusement laced through his voice.

You looked up, dazed but cocky. “I won.”

His lips quirked, but his eyes flickered over you, assessing. “You’re also wasted.”

“Incorrect,” you announced. “I am functionally drunk.”

He snorted. “That a scientific term?”

“Obviously.”

Rafe sighed, shaking his head. “C’mon, champ,” he muttered, gripping your elbow. “Let’s go.”

You frowned. “I’m not ready to go.”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice just low enough that no one else could hear.

“You just blinked at me one eye at a time, sweetheart. Yeah, you’re done.”

You scowled, but the warmth of his hand against your arm was steady, and your body was definitely swaying a little, and—

Okay. Maybe he had a point.

Maybe

…

You woke up in hell.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Your head was pounding. Your mouth was dry. Your stomach was actively staging a rebellion.

And, worst of all, the sun.

Why was it so bright?

You groaned, turning over to hide your face in your pillow.

Except… that wasn’t a pillow.

That was an arm.

A very strong, very male arm.

Your eyes flew open.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

In your bed.

What. The. Hell.

Panic surged through you. Did you—? Did he—?

No. No way. You would remember that. Right?

You squinted.

Rafe was lying on his stomach, one arm flung over your waist like you were a teddy bear. His face was turned toward you, half-buried in the pillow, hair somehow still perfect despite the fact that he drank twice as much as you last night.

You shoved at his shoulder. “Rafe.”

Nothing.

You shoved harder. “Rafe.”

A deep groan rumbled from his throat. He stretched nonchalantly, blinking at you with zero urgency.

“Morning, sunshine,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You scowled. “Why are you in my room?”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Dunno. I was in bed, and then Topper started snoring like a freight train, so I came here.”

You blinked. “So your solution was to sleep with me?”

Rafe grinned, voice smug and slow. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”

But before you could properly kick him out, the door burst open, and Savannah strode in, looking way too alive for someone who drank twice their body weight last night.

She barely glanced at Rafe. “Oh, good, you’re up,” she said. “Beach in twenty. Get dressed.”

You groaned. “Sav, I’m dying.”

“No, you’re hungover. Big difference.”

You flopped back against the pillow. “Same thing.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “I don’t care. Beach. Twenty.” Then she left.

Rafe sighed. “Guess you gotta get up, champ.”

“I hate everything,” you grumbled, burrowing deeper into the sheets.

He chuckled. “That’s new.”

…

You weren’t dramatic.

(Okay, maybe sometimes. But only when warranted.)

And this?

This was warranted.

The beach was too bright. Too loud. Too everything.

You plopped down onto the sand, pulling your knees to your chest, squinting at the ocean like it personally offended you.

Rafe, of course, looked completely fine.

Perfectly tan. Perfectly dry. Perfectly infuriating.

He dropped down next to you, grinning. “You look awful.”

You glared. “I hope a seagull steals your wallet.”

He snorted. “You need sunglasses.”

“No, I need death.”

Rafe sighed, then, before you could protest, reached up and pulled his ridiculously expensive designer sunglasses off his face.

“Here.”

You blinked. “No way. Those cost, like, more than my tuition.”

“Just put them on, princess.”

You hesitated. He rolled his eyes, then gently (annoyingly) slid them onto your face himself.

The world dimmed. Your head stopped throbbing.

You exhaled. “Okay. Fine. This helps.”

Rafe smirked. “Told you.”

Then, without warning, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you to your feet.

“What—Rafe!”

He didn’t answer. Just dragged you toward the water, walking backward so he could still look at you.

“C’mon, you need to wake up.”

“No, I need—Rafe, I swear to God—”

But it was too late.

The second you were ankle-deep in the waves, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

You screamed. Actually screamed. “Cameron, don’t you dare—”

Then he dropped you.

Right into the waves.

You resurfaced, sputtering. “You’re dead.”

Rafe just laughed. “You look awake now.”

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

Then, before he could react, you launched yourself at him, dragging him down into the water with you

…

The trip was almost over.

You had spent days avoiding Rafe, only for him to show up everywhere you went. He was annoying. Smug. Overbearing.

And yet…

He was also the one who kept an eye on you when you were wasted. The one who shoved his sunglasses on your face when the sun was too much. The one who carried you out of the water after you refused to walk because “the ocean was punishing you for existing.”

And now?

Now you were standing at the hotel entrance, waiting for your ride to the airport, his sunglasses still on your face.

Rafe was next to you, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you with that too-easy smirk.

“Guess this is it,” you muttered.

“Tragic,” he drawled. “Bet you’ll miss me.”

You snorted. “Yeah. Like a headache.”

He chuckled. “Harsh, sunshine.”

You opened your mouth for another quip, but then, before you could, he reached over and tilted the sunglasses down your nose, just enough for your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones.

You swallowed.

“You should keep ‘em,” he said, way too casual.

Your breath caught. “What?”

He shrugged. “The sunglasses. Keep ‘em.”

You blinked. “Rafe. These cost, like—”

“Don’t care.” He smirked. “Looks better on you anyway.”

And before you could process that, he reached up and flicked the frame, right between your brows.

“Try not to miss me too much, champ.”

Then he turned, sauntering toward the car like he didn’t just short-circuit your entire brain.

You should’ve taken them off. Should’ve shoved them back at him.

But instead, you just stood there.

Wearing his stupid, expensive sunglasses.

And maybe smiling a little, too.

A/N: finally got my chance to write frat boy Rafe and boy was it fun 😼

[havenhyunjin]

make up artist — hyunjin

You were doing your best to keep things professional, for the sake of your employment status but mostly because Hyunjin made you beyond nervous. He was a menace, licking his lips as he stared at you, gracing his fingertips against yours on so-called accidents, complimenting you and then your work in that order every time, all while being drop dead gorgeous. word count: 2.6k

warnings: mature, explicit sexual content ahead. 18+ only please! makeup artist afab reader, consensual but forbidden workplace relationship; unprotected consensual sex (be responsible); fingering, dirty talk, creampie.

a/n: this is the consequence of 17 minutes of watching hyunjin get his makeup done. sorry not sorry lol <3

————————————————————————

Painting on a beautiful face was a different form of art than those typically recognized. Everyone could commend an artist for a mural, a sculpture, a song, a dance, but not many would commend a makeup artist in the same way. Today, while you wouldn’t deny every craft had its degree of difficulty, you demanded recognition for the challenges of your own work.

You’d like to see every artist do their job correctly while staring into the eyes of the most beautiful work of art you’d ever seen in your life. At this point, you should be used to doing Hyunjin’s makeup, but it has only progressively gotten worse.

At first you believed that he really was just attentive and present when someone did his makeup, engaging in conversations and piercing his eyes into them. It started being apparent that it wasn’t the case when you were doing someone else’s makeup when he was in the room and he still wouldn’t stop staring at you. And it was plain obvious when he specifically requested you to be his makeup artist on Stray Kids’ world tour.

You were doing your best to keep things professional, for the sake of your employment status but mostly because Hyunjin made you beyond nervous. He was a menace, licking his lips as he stared at you, gracing his fingertips against yours on so-called accidents, complimenting you and then your work in that order every time, all while being drop dead gorgeous.

You were addicted to the game only he was playing, because you didn’t think you could reciprocate without turning incoherent or embarrassing yourself. But Hyunjin knew what kind of effect he had on you, and he was entertained by it.

The game was just beginning, as he opened his hotel room for you with the entire makeup kit.

“Hi, my favorite artist,” Hyunjin smirked and immediately went to grab your bags from your hands. You just blushed and walked inside thanking him between your breath, and leading towards the standard hotel desk and chair for you to get to work on him.

Doing his makeup in his hotel room had never happened before, but an individual morning schedule brought you here at 7am. You knew it was a bad idea, and your heart was beating out of your chest already, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t exciting at the same time.

You diligently set your makeup station as Hyunjin sat down and began making small talk that you half heartedly were replying to.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow, with a wicked smile that told you he knew exactly what was wrong.

You chuckled it off, and simply began applying moisturizer to his face, nearly wincing at how electrifying touching his skin was every time.

He had his game face on immediately, staring daggers into your eyes. Slowly but surely, as you started pressing his foundation into his face, he started staring at other parts of you.

It was your lips first, and you couldn’t help but bite on them, even if it made things worse. At some point, Hyunjin’s small talk subsided and he started examining your hair. You didn’t really have time to do it in the morning, loose wavy hair falling over your shoulders, and he tugged on a little strand and curled his fingers around it. He constantly brushed his fingers over your collarbone, just torturing you with his games.

Concealer and eyeshadow went on him on pure muscle memory, attempting to ignore the way his eyes were now staring at your entire body frame up and down. The stakes of the game got higher as Hyunjin slowly moved his hands to your waist, which you made no effort to avoid or take off of you.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with your heavy breathing as both of his hands rested ever so slightly under your shirt right at your hips.

“You are so pretty, have I ever told you that?” he said, the fakest innocent doe eyes you’d ever seen looking up at you as you added blush on his cheekbones.

“You call me pretty girl all the time,” you laughed softly, almost rolling your eyes.

“Because you are,” he motioned you closed with his hands, your face nearing his even more, making your job grabbing setting powder harder.

“Hyune, let me finish,” you whispered, stammering over your words and stretching to reach for the powder puff, but he grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he traced circles on your waist touching the skin directly and stood up from the chair, towering over you.

You should want him to stop, you should get away immediately, and you should not want him as badly as you do. But fighting the way your body was yearning for him for months now was proving more, and more impossible.

You didn’t reply, but you set your hands on his arms tentatively, unsure of everything but the fact that you wanted him close.

He smiled down at you and tucked your hair behind your with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “So pretty,” he whispered, as he graced your cheek with his knuckles, making you blush furiously.

“Let me kiss you, pretty girl,” he pleaded with his thumb ghosting over your lip. You were mute, not out of hesitation but disbelief that this was actually happening, but you leaned into him slowly.

Hyunjin understood your consent and closed the space between you two, enveloping you into a mix of a sweet and lustful kiss. As he let your hand go, both of his hands set on your waist once again, gripping it tighter and pressing his body against yours, molding himself into you and your lips.

Your own hands flew to the nape of his neck and just allowed him to take the lead for you, finally letting go and giving in to your true desires.

He felt how you relaxed in his arms, and smiled into the kiss. “So sweet, pretty girl,” he hummed into your mouth, making you smile back at him.

The kiss got deeper, rougher, and you were drunk off the way Hyunjin was guiding you into it all. As he walked you two to the bed in the middle of the room, and sat you down on his lap to straddle him on the edge of the bed, you were the one to start the kiss once again.

“Do you want this, pretty?” he pulled away to ask, pressing his forehead against you. As you hummed in response and tried to kiss him again, he stopped you. “I need words,” Hyunjin insisted, and you reflexively said yes out loud. He was amused at your excitement, and his own, really. You were surprised at how pliant and willing you were to something so forbidden, but bending the rules proved to be exhilarating.

Although he wanted to take his sweet time with you, he was painfully aware of time constraints before he had a photoshoot to attend. He knew he could have more time later, and he laid you down next to him, looking at you for approval to pull the zipper of your jeans down. “Please,” you mumbled back, crazy with the stimulation on your neck through his love bites.

His hand made his way over your cunt over your already soaked panties, tracing a line over your slit as he kissed you deeply. You were moaning nearly uncontrollably, having a semblance of shame at how desperate you were for Hyunjin before anything truly happened.

He pulled your panties aside and rubbed his middle finger over your leaking hole, up to your clit. It had you squirming and whining, but not once did he stop kissing your mouth like a man starved.

As a first finger slid inside of you, you gasped and gripped Hyunjin’s shirt, and he was loving every second of your reaction to his moves.

“Even your little sounds are pretty,” he said as he began tracing kisses into your neck once again.

Soon enough, a second finger was inside of you, scissoring them into you and increasing the pace.

“You’re taking it so nicely,” he continued to praise and all you could do still was whimper his name like music to his ears. It was then that you decided to move your hands down to his crotch. When you touched him over his own sweatpants, you realized how hard he was and you were relishing on it.

Hyunjin groaned as you touched him, and grinded himself in your hand as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace.

“Fuck, Hyune,” you cried into his neck, trying to still pleasure him with your hand as your own pleasure got a little bit too much.

At that, he positioned himself over you, spreading your legs to fit between them as he pulled his sweatpants down enough to free his leaking red cock. Hyunjin wanted you so badly it hurt, and he needed you right then and there. He’d wanted this ever since he laid his eyes on you, and as you were under him in his bed half naked and willing to take him, he knew he needed to make it worth your while.

“You still want this, pretty girl?”

“I want you so, so bad, Hyune,” you whined in an intoxicatingly sweet voice to him, holding his face in your hands as he began to press his cock over your cunt.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Hyunjin grinned as he kissed you over and over again.

“Baby please,” you pleaded against his lips and it made him completely give in to you. He would give you anything at this point, beginning with pushing into you slowly.

As you adjusted to him, sighing in relief, he started to moan your name making you feel heaven.

Every single feeling was heightened, from the toe curling sting of him inside of you, to how dirty it was to fuck someone you were strictly forbidden from even looking at. It only worked to excite you, not deter you in any way. How could you not feel wanted and desired, if Hyunjin was willing to risk so much just for a single night with you?

Hyunjin had his eyes closed, overwhelmed at the tight, warm feeling around him, but also drunk off the feeling of finally getting the girl. He never thought it would happen this way, but finally taking you after months of picturing it every night as he pleasured himself was every bit as wonderful as he thought it would be and then some more.

He bottomed inside of you, groaning in your ear with his forearms holding his weight over you.

You moved to take his shirt off, every part of you burning with more desire for more skin. As he helped tug his shirt off, he pulled yours down, enough to have your breasts out for him to touch.

You couldn’t believe how vocal you were being, considering this wasn’t supposed to happen and should be secretive, but every single thing that Hyunjin did with your body brought out a primal reaction from you.

He thrusted into you fast and hard, satisfying the desperate need both of you felt to be close. It was raw and rough, but you both clearly liked it just that way. He fucked you like he never would touch you again, timing his hard thrusts consistently as he watched your tits bounce below him.

“You’re doing such a good job, pretty. So tight,” he moaned, hushing your desperate, incoherent moans. “You can do it, baby, you can take it,” he demanded as he gripped your waist to fuck you impossibly harder with your legs spread wide open for him; a perfect display of how willing you were for anything he wanted to do to your body.

“Do you feel how deep my cock is inside you, pretty?” he teased, a wicked grin in his face watching your reaction to every single brutal thrust, feeling himself close and closer to release just by staring at your face contorted in pleasure.

You only nodded, gripping the sheets below you and even harder as Hyunjin moved one hand to stimulate your clit with his thumb at a painstakingly slow pace contrasting his fucking.

“You look so pretty stuffed full of my cock, baby,” he kept sweet talking you, never relenting in his hip and hand moves. At that point, you felt your orgasm closing in on you, crying out at the stimulation of just the right spot.

Hyunjin noticed, and his fingers on your clit only worked faster to make you cum first. His dirty talk along with his face would’ve been enough anyway.

“Give it to me, baby. Cum all over my cock, milk it with that tight, pretty pussy,” he leaned down to catch your mouth on a wet, sloppy kiss, still not once relenting on the intensity of his fucking.

Soon enough, you were seeing stars behind your eyes, wrapping your legs around Hyunjin’s waist and scratching his back in the process. The orgasm was the most intense you’d ever had, and it didn’t subside as he fucked you harder through it to reach his own.

With your eyes rolled back, mouth wide open, tits out for him, hair disheveled and your pussy spasming around him, Hyunjin reached pure ecstasy. He painted ropes inside you, and while panting in between messy kisses all over your face, you suddenly became aware of the time.

Gasping, and trying to pull away, Hyunjin shushed you immediately.

“It’s fine, pretty girl. You only have to do my lipstick now,” he smiled down at you, trying to set your hair straight, and relishing in the feeling of being inside you a couple seconds longer.

“Hyune, you have to go,” you gushed, fixing your bra and shirt back on, the adrenaline of the forbidden rising back up.

Hyunjin pouted, but agreed as he pulled out and fixed his sweatpants. You scrambled up, but he didn’t let you until he found your undergarments and worked gently to put them on you again, and you found it sweet until you noticed his evil plan.

He pumped his cum back inside your cunt with his fingers, making you shriek at the overstimulation, before he slid your panties up. Pressing one mischievous kiss to your thigh, he also pushed your jeans on and promised himself he’d be back to taste you and undo you under him once again.

The realization was hitting harder and harder for you, blushing furiously as you ran to your makeup kit to try to fix whatever mess you made yourself on Hyunjin’s face.

Grabbing the setting powder and working on record time, Hyunjin kept praising you and making your job the worst it’s ever been. It didn’t help that you knew what he looked like fucking you now.

“You’re even prettier all fucked out, baby,” he kept teasing, feeling you up and biting his lips, because truly who could gave enough of you?

“Hyune, please focus,” you pleaded mortified, grabbing the lip tint and gloss from your stand and clumsily dropping one of them in the process.

He beat you to picking it up, and handed it to you gently, smiling.

“I really liked it, pretty girl. Did you like it?” he let you go to let you apply the rose lip stain on his lips diligently, albeit almost shaking.

“You know I did…” you reassured him, as if your moaning or red face wasn’t enough proof.

“Let’s do it again, pretty?” he asked, stealing a kiss from you before you began to apply gloss.

Flustered and feeling hot once again, you just cursed him between your teeth but smiled, which told him everything he needed to know.

You definitely needed a raise, and you demanded recognition for your hard work as an artist. No one else would’ve pulled it off like you did, and Hyunjin wanted no one else either way.

[whisperedmeg]

I’M SO MUCH WORSE ⟢ spencer reid x greenaway!reader

summary: elle greenaway left the BAU without saying goodbye. a year later, you, her little sister, walk in without saying hello. you wear burgundy lipstick, leather boots, and emotional armor. you won’t let anyone get close. or… will you?

genre: angst (i guess? nothing bad happens tho. maybe a bit of fluff if you squint. hard to classify as a genre tbh) | w/c: 2.7k

tags/warnings: reader is elle greenaway’s sister, reader is new to the BAU, emotional repression, estranged sibling relationship, grieving someone still alive, reader trusts no one, canon-typical case, extremelyyy subtle mutual attraction/interest (just trust me ok. it’s there), no use of y/n

a/n: welcome to the world, greenaway!reader!!! to all who mourn never getting canon spencelle, this is the start of a slow-burn journey to seeing a different version of reidaway™ come to fruition. honestly this is more of a moody character study/intro than a full-on fic, but there will be more coming soon with actual plotlines I promise. and breaking news: requests for greenaway!reader are officially open 👹 i have a whole backstory for her cooked up that I’ll slowly reveal between requests + my own ideas, and I am very excited ab it!!

greenaway!reader masterlist

First impressions never really mattered to you. If you’ve learned anything from your older sister, it was that people only remember the last thing you did — or the worst.

The elevator dings, and you step off onto the sixth floor and into Quantico’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, adjusting the lapel of your blazer as you go. Somehow, no matter what you do, there’s always a touch of dishevel clinging to you like smoke when you try to dress in anything resembling business casual.

Your heavy lug sole boots echo across the linoleum floors as you make your way in. They’re scuffed from years of use, but you can’t bring yourself to part with them. You wear them like armor.

You head to the empty desk you’ve been assigned and set your bag down. No one says hello right away. That’s fine — you’re not here to make friends. You’re here to do your goddamn job. Still, the silence makes you itch.

And then:

“Greenaway?” a voice calls, clipped and neutral. You turn and see your new boss, Aaron Hotchner, standing outside his office. “You’re early.”

There’s a flicker of something on his face — not quite amusement, though. You get the sense already that Aaron Hotchner is not a man who shows signs of amusement often. He steps forward, eyes skimming over you like he’s trying to x-ray your secrets.

One by one, the rest of the team trickle in as you get acquainted with your new boss. You discreetly observe them over his shoulder as they settle into their desks before Hotch clears his throat to gather their attention.

“This is our newest team member, SSA Greenaway,” he says, and now everyone’s watching. “She’s just transferred in from the New York City field office. Specializes in victimology and interrogation tactics.”

“Greenaway?” another voice cuts in, laced with surprise and confusion. You follow the sound and land on a solid wall of muscle with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth and a whole lot of swagger behind it. “Like… Greenaway Greenaway?”

You could lie. You could laugh. You could throat-punch him. But you don’t.

Instead, you slide your hands into your pockets and tilt your head just enough to make it look like you might bite. “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

The man blinks.

“Elle’s my sister,” you clarify sharply. Your tone makes it clear that that’s all you have to say on the matter.

“Easy tiger, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says, raising his hands. “Elle was a friend. It’s just been a while since I heard that name aloud in this room.”

You nod once. “Yeah. I’m sure it has.”

That shuts everyone up for a beat, and you know what they’re thinking — Elle Greenaway ghosted this team and let the door slam behind her. You wonder if they expect you to do the same.

Hotch clears his throat. “We’re reviewing a case soon. Everyone, meet in the roundtable room in thirty.”

You take a seat at your new desk like a throne and cross your legs like a warning. Better to look like a threat than a question no one wants to answer.

You can feel it already, the way they’re watching you with the wrong kind of curiosity. Spencer Reid — you clocked his name from the nameplate on his desk — keeps sneaking glances over the top of whatever file he’s pretending to read. There’s something hesitant in the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to work out a complicated equation and keeps forgetting the variables. You can’t tell if it bothers you or not — being so clearly seen by someone who doesn’t even know what he’s looking at yet.

You don’t know much about him, but you know enough. Elle mentioned his name a few times in those rare late-night calls back when she still picked up the phone. Said he was smart, sweet, young. Said he sometimes reminded her of a cat who didn’t know whether or not to run from thunder.

But you’re not thunder — you’re lightning.

And this office? This whole team? They’re about to find out just how fast you strike.

—

They don’t give you long to settle in.

And that's fine. You’ve never liked the quiet that comes with waiting — too much room for doubt, too much space for ghosts. The bullpen is already humming with life, papers rustling and phones chirping and chairs squeaking under the weight of people trying not to stare. You keep your head down and rifle through the folder Hotch left on your desk.

And then he calls for the briefing, ten minutes earlier than he’d originally stated.

The roundtable room is glass-walled on one side — ironic, considering no one here seems particularly transparent. You take a seat at the end of the table furthest from the door and resist the urge to cross your arms. It would look defensive, like you’re bracing for a hit.

They don’t know you yet. Not really. But you know how this goes. There’s always a script, even if no one admits to writing it:

1. they doubt you,

2. they test you,

3. they pretend like they always believed in you.

You’ve seen it before. You’re not falling for it again. Still, a small, buried part of you hopes they see you for what you are before they decide who you’re supposed to be.

“Three missing women, all under the age of twenty-five, taken from their homes along the I-81 corridor in Pennsylvania,” Hotch begins. “Two confirmed dead. The third’s been missing for forty-eight hours.”

He clicks the remote. Crime scene photos flicker across the screen like a grim slideshow.

You tilt your head. “No forced entry?”

“Correct,” JJ answers. “No signs of struggle. No witnesses.”

Rossi glances at you. “You see something, Greenaway?”

You lean forward, tap the edge of the first photo with your fingernail. “He watches. Long enough to know the routines. Long enough to know when they’re alone.”

Morgan shifts in his chair. “You think he knew them?”

“Not personally,” you say. “But intimately. They weren’t random. The unsub spent time studying their routines so he could anticipate their windows of vulnerability.”

There’s a pause, and you know that silence: it's what people do when they’re adjusting their expectations.

Prentiss chimes in: “Could be someone with casual access. Delivery. Maintenance. Landlord.”

Spencer opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, then closes it again.

You glance at him, just for a second.

Hotch continues assigning roles: JJ will handle the press and family outreach. Morgan and Rossi will check out the crime scenes. Prentiss and Reid are on geographic profiling.

Then Hotch turns to you.

“Greenaway: Victimology. Coordinate with Garcia to gather intel, and if the third victim’s family agrees to talk—”

“I’ll lead the interview,” you finish.

He nods once. “Good.”

When the chairs scrape and everyone rises, Reid lingers by the table. You catch him looking again — not quite at your face, but at your hands, like maybe they’re saying something your mouth won’t.

“You’re right about it not being random,” he says. “And about the timeline. This took planning.”

You glance back at him. He’s fidgeting with the corner of a folder, eyes darting but not nervous — just observant. You wonder how long it’ll take before he stops looking at you like he’s seen a ghost.

As you turn to leave, you catch the edge of your own reflection in the glass. For a second, the angle’s just wrong enough for you to look like her.

You blink, and the ghost vanishes.

—

You hit the ground in Pennsylvania before noon. The sky above is low and gray, the kind of color that makes everything feel depressing.

You drive with JJ to the home of the third victim’s sister. The woman is pale, clenched, shrunken in on herself in the way only grief and panic can collapse a person. Her kitchen smells like burnt toast and antibacterial wipes. You lead the interview, voice even, eyes sharp. You know when to press and when to pull back.

Halfway through, the woman says, “She told me she thought someone was watching her, but I didn’t believe her. I thought she was just being overly paranoid and anxious like always was.”

You nod. “Most people are, when they’ve got a reason to be.”

—

Back at the precinct, JJ murmurs something to Hotch about how well you handled the sister. You don’t linger to hear the rest.

Instead, you duck into the breakroom to rinse your hands, and that’s when you feel it — a presence behind you, quiet and unassuming, but distinctly there.

Reid.

You finally turn. He’s standing near the doorway, lanky and uncomfortable, like he hasn’t quite grown into his own limbs — which is absurd, considering how tall he is. His tie is slightly crooked. He’s holding a file he’s not reading.

“You’re really observant,” he says. “And I meant what I said earlier — you were right.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I’m not,” he replies quickly. “I just—” He hesitates. “I hadn’t really… considered what it would be like to work with someone who knows her.”

You stiffen. “Elle?”

He nods.

“I don’t talk about her,” you mutter.

“I didn’t ask you to. And honestly, no one really ever does,” Spencer says after a beat. “Not anymore. It’s like… if we don’t say her name, what happened never has to make sense.”

There’s a beat.

Then you say, “You were staring earlier.”

He looks mortified. “I—I wasn’t trying to.”

You shrug, tilting your head. “You just do that with everyone, or just people who look like ghosts?”

That lands harder than you meant it to. He takes a slow breath.

“Elle was my friend,” he confesses.

You nod. “You were her friend, too, Reid,” you tell him quietly.

You leave before he can reply.

—

In the end, you were the one who found her.

You saw the pattern — the quiet overlaps in building permits, the odd timing of maintenance requests, the proximity to each victim’s home. One man, always lingering at the edges. Never close enough to stand out, but not far enough to be clean, either.

The missing woman was discovered bound and barely conscious in a crawlspace behind a water heater — dazed, dehydrated, but alive. You rode with her in the back of the ambulance, silent except for the sound of her shaky breathing as it steadied. When her eyes finally met yours — wide, grateful, terrified — you held her gaze and nodded in soft reassurance. You’re safe now. It’s over.

No one congratulates you on the jet ride home for making the connection, but the silence feels different now. Less loaded with suspicion. More… earned.

—

Back at Quantico, the team scatters — paperwork, debriefs, whatever’s next. Eventually everyone heads home, but you stay in the bullpen, light from your desk lamp haloing the clutter you haven’t sorted yet. Your case notes are open, but you haven’t written anything in twenty minutes.

You don’t hear him approach, but suddenly there’s a paper cup sliding into view beside your keyboard. You glance up to find Spencer Reid standing there, hands tucked in the pockets of his cardigan, expression unreadable.

“You’re still here.”

“Wow, look at all those PhDs at work,” you deadpan.

He offers the smallest quirk of a smile and nods to the cup he slid in front of you. “Black. No sugar,” he says. “I remembered.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t recall telling you.”

“You didn’t. But you left the sugar packets untouched at the precinct.”

You blink at him, then at the cup, then back at him again. “Watching me? Creepy.”

His smile falters, just slightly.

You sigh. “I’m kidding, Reid. Relax.”

There’s a beat of silence. He doesn’t sit, but he doesn’t leave either.

“Elle used to stay late, too. After cases. Especially the bad ones.”

You tilt your head. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

“No,” he says quickly. “But I thought you might want to know.”

That throws you off more than it should. You sit back in your chair, legs still crossed, fingers tightening around the coffee cup like it’s suddenly fragile.

You don’t do this — the soft thing. The human thing. You are, for lack of a better way to say it, bad at it.

“I’m not her, Reid.”

“I know,” he says without missing a beat. “You’re not.”

You study him for a long moment — the way he’s just standing there, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like he’s waiting for you to pull a knife or a truth from under your sleeve.

“I, uh—” he starts, then falters. “I just didn’t know if maybe you’d want to talk about her.”

You don’t flinch, but something behind your ribs pulls taut.

“What makes you think I’d want to talk about anything?”

He considers this. “I don’t. Not really. But sometimes people say they don’t and… mean the opposite.”

You snort softly. “Let me guess. You read that in a book?”

“Actually, it’s an observation based on years of empirical experience—” He stops himself. Smiles, sheepish. “But yes. Also a book.”

There’s a long pause.

Then he says, quieter, “When it started getting bad for her, I tried to help. I went to her room the night before…” he trails off, clearing his throat before finishing, “The night before it happened. I thought… I don’t know, maybe if I gave her the opportunity, she’d start talking.”

You sip the coffee. It’s strong and bitter, just how you like it. It’s obvious he made a fresh pot for you, and you refuse to let yourself linger on that thought for longer than a second.

“She didn’t,” he adds quietly. “Talk, I mean.”

You swirl your cup. “She isn’t really the kind of person who lets herself be helped.”

He nods. “And you?”

You give him a crooked smile. “Oh, I’m so much worse.”

It’s meant to deflect. He knows that. You know he knows that. But he doesn’t flinch. Instead, the corners of his lips quirk up in the tiniest whisper of a smile, and he holds your gaze a little longer than expected, like he’s collecting data. He’s watching you the way people watch thunderstorms — from a distance, half in awe, half afraid. You should tell him to leave.

Instead, you say, “You’re not really what I expected, Dr. Reid.”

He blinks. “Is that… a good thing?”

You shrug. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“You were great out there,” he tells you quietly. “If it weren’t for that detail you noticed with the maintenance requests… we might not have found her in time.”

You hate compliments — especially the true ones. So you shrug it off again, sharp and practiced. “Guess I’m good for something, then.”

You glance over at him, study the slope of his jaw, the twitch in his left hand where his fingers tap a rhythm against his. You could cut him down with another quip. That would be easier. You’re good at sharpness — good at being unreadable, untouchable. But instead, you tilt your head.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you say, quieter than before. “It doesn’t suck.”

He smiles at that. “I’ll add pouring coffee from the pot into a cup to my list of core competencies.”

You take another sip and go back to staring at the same line in your report. Spencer calls your name as he walks out a few minutes later, hand held up in an awkward wave before he disappears through the bullpen doors.

Great. You really shouldn’t have said anything nice. Now he’s going to try to talk to you again tomorrow.

And you really shouldn’t want him to. But for some unknown, inexplicable reason… you do.

God help you, you do.

ᝰ.ᐟ

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

[telephoniii]

HI HI HI HI HI HI HIIIII (you’re so cute with the way you write)

How would Floyd, Ace, Deuce, Sebek, and Kalim react to a (female, preferably) reader that LOVES touching? Like she’s ABSOLUTELY loves physical affection and touch and had a personality like kalim, except she’s not dumb. Just very happy-go-lucky.

Jumps on her friends all the time, cuddles (even if it has to be forced), good bye kisses… yk?

Tytytyty!!!! 💕💕💕

BUT YOU'VE BEEN SO OUT OF TOUCH

☆彡 in which you love physical affection

ace, deuce, sebek, floyd, kalim x fem!reader (separate)

word count: 200 per character

tags: fluff, can be romantic or platonic, possible ooc, floyd leech almost kills reader (lovingly)

a/n: on a side note, i absolutely LOVE katseye rn. i had to make that reference in the title. anyways, i hope you enjoy :>

ace trappola

He's into it. Not in a perverted way or anything, he just enjoys physical affection too. He'll hug you right back with a big ole grin. Ace is definitely a bit of a douche though so he'll make jokes like, "Wow Prefect, just say you love me already," if you hold his hand or give him a kiss on the cheek. The only thing he's not into? The cuddling. You're going to have to chain him down to get him to do it. Cuddling is for saps and nerds; neither of which he is. If you do manage to get him to cuddle with you— probably through some sort of bet— he demands to be big spoon. Being little spoon has never felt right to him. Don't fall asleep while cuddling with him. This absolute jerk will pick you up and, if he's in a silly mood, throw you on the ground off the bed or couch. He thinks it's the funniest thing ever. Ace doesn't mind seeing you physically affectionate with everyone if you two aren't together. Why? Because he knows he'll still get his hug and kiss even if you're giving it to Loosey Deucesy first. Nothing to be jealous about.

deuce spade

You're gonna give this poor boy a heart attack with your affection. He's not used to girls being so openly physical with him and he's definitely going to need some time to get used to it. Deuce won't deny you of any touch, but he'll be shaking literally the whole time. Handholding? Your hand is going to be dripping with his sweat, sorry. Goodbye kisses? He's going red in the face about to explode. Deuce will get used to it with time. But emphasis on the time cause it'll take a while. When it comes to cuddling, he prefers to be the big spoon, but doesn't mind taking the little spoon spot if you want him to. He might just feel awkward about it. He's strong enough to catch you when you jump on him, but please give him a warning. Or else he's going to panic and both of you are going down. It kinda saddens him to see you act this way with everyone and not just him, but when he hangs out with you the thought immediately vanishes since it's just your personality and he likes you for you. The last thing Deuce would want is for you to have to be someone you're not around him.

sebek zigvolt

Cease this behavior at once, human!! You think a low-life, magic less human such as yourself deserves his affections?! Oh, he'll show you! Yeah. Needless to say, he doesn't take the affection well at first. It isn't until he sees Malleus accept your touches without complaint will he even consider the idea of allowing you to do such things. You thought Deuce was awkward? This guy is worse. He's never even held hands with a lady before. His grip when he does is going to be overly tight. When you hug him, he won't hug back and he'll go really stiff. And when you kiss him goodbye he darts away immediately after. Hey, better than him pushing you off, right? This doesn't mean he doesn't like you. This guy is just a bit hopeless when it comes to things like that. He doesn't understand how that sort of touch comes so easy to you! And he also can't fathom why he kinda enjoys it. Watching you act this same way with other people makes him more open to receiving your touch. After all, if mere humans could accept it without complaint, then he easily could too! Please keep being affectionate with this guy, you're warming his inexperienced heart.

floyd leech

Thinks you're challenging him and nearly kills you with a death hug. He's giving you everything you're giving him except twice as rough. Oh? A kiss on the cheek for him? He's biting your cheek. Floyd thinks it's all just play. Since you're affectionate, he takes it as a green light to be as rowdy with you as he wants. This man is going to be hugging and spinning you till you're so dizzy you can barely stand. If his behavior makes you stop being so affectionate, he's going to get really sad and upset. You started this game! Now you don't wanna play anymore? Boo, no fun. Have Azul and Jade talk to him, he'll settle down. If you start giving him back the affection in tiny bits, he'll do the same thing. He'll actually cuddle with you instead of wrapping you in a blanket and hugging you till you nearly suffocate. Floyd will just hug you back as normally as he can instead of giving you the ring around the rosey experience. Floyd won't say it, but he really does appreciate you still being affectionate with him even after his aggression. Not many have the balls to do all that with him, so it makes him super happy that you do.

kalim al asim

The less aggressive version of Floyd. He's going to absolutely LOVE you! There's not many people in NRC who are affectionate so he'll cling to you where ever you guys go. Want a piggyback ride to class? He's got you!! Kissing him goodbye on the cheek? So fun! He wants to do that to you too! Honestly he's going to be down to give you a piggyback ride literally anytime, any place. Jump him anytime and that boy is going to be ready. Kalim is going to consider you his ultra best friend next to Jamil. Speaking of which, Jamil is going to get sick and tired of hearing your name out of this kid's mouth over and over again. He loves how affectionate you are and he can't help but tell everyone! You two are kinda perfect together honestly. You balance out his stupidity. Kalim loves loves LOVES cuddling! No one else cuddles with him so he's going to be raving when you do. Wants to be the little spoon every time. He's a spoiled one, he's used to being protected. He'll happily switch spots though if you ask! Anything and this man is at your beck and call. Aside from Jamil who hardly counts, you're his first real friend. Please treat this boy nicely.

[luveline]

shy!reader and spencer who are in the early days of their relationship and are getting more comfortable with initiating physical affection with each other (especially reader lol) and spencer gets her to open up by playing with her hair / hands, tickling her, cuddling, the like <3

The first time Spencer let his head rest against yours, you were sure you’d die right there and then, half-asleep on the subway, then suddenly away as he’d started talking under his breath, his conversation for you and you alone. You'd flushed full body and forced yourself to stay still, until Spencer had confused your shyness for not wanting his weight against you and pulled away. 

This time you’re ready. This time, he’s working his arm over the top of your shoulders. Not a timid first move on the first date, he’d suffered through that already. Spencer lets his arm slip between your back and the couch as he tugs you toward him, resting his cheek against your temple, two points of skin turning hot as a burner. 

“Okay?” he asks quietly. 

You let yourself relax into it. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you want me to run that bath for you?” 

It’s imperative he doesn’t move. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it later, if that’s okay.” 

It’s Spencer’s bath, but he let you take one the last time you stayed the night, so you’ll work it out. You knew he wasn’t gonna peep on you, knew you were totally safe in his bathroom, but your heart hammered fast as a hummingbird’s whenever the floors creaked —just the idea of being near him when you were unclothed set you aflame. Your skin warms with the memory, a nervousness in your chest and hands that grows uncomfortably warm. 

You don’t move, though. You’re sending him all the wrong messages when you reject him out of timidity, you’re more than aware of it, but the longer he sits there gently holding you, the more the temptation to squirm builds. 

Spencer makes a soft, soft sound as his hand trails up your back, curling around your arm, and meandering a path to your elbow. 

“I got…” —Spencer begins, without any inclination to rush— “…more of that bath soak you liked, the camomile… and honey…”

You love the smell. Sometimes you swear you can smell it in his hair when he presses near you. 

“And a loufa, ‘cos you didn’t have one last time,” he adds. 

“Thank you.” 

“…You’re welcome.” He kisses the side of your head. Then, in a betrayal of his character, he laughs breathlessly, saying, “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. The loufa– It’s purple. I put it on the towel rack, and I got you a new face towel, too, mine’s too rough for you.” 

“Did you get yourself a new one too?” 

“Yeah.” He taps your cheek, the hand you’d forgotten about drawing a short line to your jaw. “You’re pretty.” 

You drop your chin. 

“You are,” he says. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Spencer’s hand slides down your neck, a caress that turns to a kind hold. “Can I…” He snorts softly. “You’re solid,” he says, squeezing your neck with enough pressure to wind you, which isn’t much. “You don’t have to get all tense.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to get tense,” you admit. 

“I know. I’m trying to help, but I’m just making it worse.” 

Spencer isn’t making it worse. Or, he wasn’t. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, is the thing.” 

“I was. Then you tensed up and I didn’t think I should.” His easy smile goes funny. “Could I have?” 

“Of course you could’ve,” you mumble, pressing your face into his shoulder before he can decimate the last of your self respect. He laughs —giggles, really, in a burst of sound— and tugs you in. “Not funny.”

He can hear the lie. “No, it’s not funny,” he agrees anyways, laying back and then moving forward, swaying you enough to turn the giggle into a full blown laugh. 

He murmurs something. You mumble back. His fingertips slip over the dip in your back and he’s saying something nice, if a little shy. It’s been nice getting closer to him, seeing the real Spencer, someone who’s hesitant but gentle beyond words. There’s no reason for him to be touching you like this, to talk sweet nothings behind your ear as he lugs you onto his chest, and maybe there’s no reason for you to melt. Butter in the sun, drifting bonelessly into his lap. 

“You smell like tea,” you say quietly. “I love it.” 

“You love it?” he asks, something oddly awed about him as he shifts your head back to look you in the eyes. 

“Mm. It’s nice. And your eyes are so brown… they’re my favourite thing about you.” 

Spencer teases the stripe of skin exposed by your rising t-shirt until you’re shivering again. “Thank you,” he says, letting one close in a wink as he taps your nose with his. “Am I allowed to say what I like about you, or–” You shake your head so violently he immediately stops. “Fine. But only because I want to sit like this for the rest of the night with you.” 

“I still need a shower.” 

“Later,” he says, his lips resting on your chin. “Way, way later, please.” 

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni Enemies to lovers with some massage therapist Bucky. Breeding kinnk, aftercare, Bucky is a secret softie, all that.

Imagine Rival Biker Bucky x f reader. A smutty, slutty little concept while I add the finishing touches to another fic, just getting this out of my system first. I just love the idea of a sexy, bad boy Bucky getting his hands on the one girl who won't give him a second glance because she's too good for him and they're from opposite worlds. Since childhood. Now he's a biker. Covered in black ink. He works in an auto shop. Owns the bar that brings in chaos. He's smoke, whiskey and leather.

She, however, is soft, pretty, smart and does not have the time to entertain someone like him. She has her degree. Working on a second. She has a career. She does not associate with the likes of him, not as the police chiefs daughter. She'll be damned if she has to even breathe the same air, especially when his gang is the cause for half the problems in the town that her father has been trying to get rid of.

Now, imagine that hours of working on her notes and papers leave her with unbearable knots and kninks in her back. She doesn't want to take a break but the pain only gets worse as the week goes by. It doesn't take long for her to shoot her regular massage therapist a message to book the very first available appointment.

-

You unclasped your bra, folding and setting it off to the side while waiting for Wanda in the warmly lit room. You could have sworn she was a witch with the way she made pain disappear; she’d also become a good friend after your many visits.

The knock at the door interrupted you as you slid your shorts off, leaving you in your panties, not rushing to jump onto the table considering it was just Wanda anyway.

“Come in!” You smiled, making your way to the massage bed as the door clicked open- “Oh my God!!” You nearly shrieked seeing Bucky walk in, a shit eating from spreading across his face as you scrambled to grab the tiny towel to cover yourself though it was a futile attempt. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

"You have an appointment, don't you?" He quirked an eyebrow as if it was clear as day why he was there.

"Yeah, with Wanda, why are you here, did you get lost on the way to jail?" Your face scrunched in a mix of confusion and disgust ignoring the roll of his eyes while you snatched your shirt to better cover up.

"Well Wanda couldn't make it in but she sent me" He said with a shrug, sighing when he saw your less than impressed face, "Don't flatter yourself, I'm just training under her as part of my physiotherapy internship"

"I'm sorry, you're trying to tell me you of all people are learning how to give massages? Please"

"Physiotherapy" Bucky corrected, "You're not the only one who has a degree, princess" Bucky watched as you groaned realizing you hadn't put your bra on, opting to stuff it in your bag instead of putting it back on in front of him.

"You are NOT laying a finger on me-ow!" You hissed, feeling the knot in your back tug at the rest of your muscles.

"You're not gonna be able to do a whole lot with that much pain" Bucky smirked, only half joking. He wasn't wrong. The pain was worse than before and you needed this an you really didn't have the time to reschedule.

"Fine" You mumbled, turning away from him so you could take your shirt off again, glaring at him when you noticed he hadn't turned away. "Could you at least give me some privacy instead of lurking in the corner like a pervert"

"Whatever you want, princess" He bit his lip as he faced the wall, hearing your feet pad across the tile to lay down on the massage table.

"Alright" You huffed after covering your lower body with the towel, now laying face down, immediately second guessing yourself as he walked over.

"Let me know if anything's uncomfortable or if you want me to stop" His voice was no longer snarky; in fact he sounded professional. "Where do you feel the most tension?"

"Um-shoulders and-lower back" You mumbled out the last bit, he was going to massage you there anyway so there so no pointed hiding it. You tensed at the feeling of his oiled fingers starting to work at your muscles, he had no right to be that good. At all.

“Shit” you hissed trying to keep your voice down, ignoring the clench of your stomach feeling his rough fingers press down on the areas that were tight. Little did you know Bucky was struggling far more than you were.

It went against every bit of professionalism he had. Every moan you tried to silence went right to his cock, his hands making their way lower before trailing up again. Fuck, you sounded so pretty...

"Better stop making those sounds"

"Or what" You challenged back before you could even stop yourself.

"Princess..."

"Your attitude is what needs fixing" Bucky growled, professionalism be damned, "fuck this"

-

You have no idea how you ended up here. It didn't matter though, not when there wasn't a single cohesive thought in your brain as you wailed letting Bucky absolutely rail you. Your back didn't feel an ounce of pain as he took you on all fours, pulling your hips to slam back against him, gripping your ass with enough strength to leave you sore.

"Feel better now huh baby, not trying to stay quiet anymore, are ya" He let out a low chuckle which melted into a groan feeling you tighten on his dick, "Such a good little princess like you letting me put my dick in you, dirty girl"

You hate to admit it but the clench of your cunt betrays how much you love this. It was so wrong. You had no business fucking someone like him and yet where you were letting his precum paint all over the inside of your walls.

"What would your daddy say princess, if he knew where you were right now, what you were doin'? Thinking you're studying when you're actually all pretty and naked, letting me rub that gorgeous body up and down, bet you'd let me put my cum in you too, huh? Bet your dad would love that, his perfect little girl all knocked up with some bikers baby"

You could have said no, stayed silence, just about anything but nope. You screamed feeling his fingers reach around the massage your clit, your orgasm wasting no time hurling towards you.

"Ja-Ja-JAMESSS"

"MMMPHH I love the sound of that baby, could get used to hearing you sayin' my name, say it again princess, say my name with my cock in you, c'mon, that's it"

"Fuck-James-I-James" You were a mess and loving every bit of it, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, all the pent up stress you were feeling finally releasing. You felt your throat tighten, a sob escaping your lips as you let go, your arousal making a creamy mess on the dark curly hair on the base of his cock.

"God, you're milkin me, you want my cum that bad huh baby, want a little biker baby in that tummy of yours, I'll give it to you, give you so much I might even put twins in there-FUCKK"

-

"Shhhh" Bucky cooed, wrapping you up in a fluffy towel while cuddling up your limp body, wiping away any remnants of tears while you stayed floating in a subby, post sex haze. "I got you, you did so good princess" You only manage to let out a weak whimper, giving into his warm, thick arms that rock you.

"You alright angel?"

"Mph" you mumble against his chest and he reaches over for a glass of water that's nearby, bringing it up for you to take a sip. You're surprised at how sweet he's being, drinking up before snuggling into him again. Damn him for being so warm and comfy.

"Y'know, there might be a little Bucky in there" He whispers with a playful smirk in his voice, fingers tickling your lower belly, chuckling when you narrow your eyes at him.

"You wish" You sass back, ignoring the butterflies you feel.

"I do" He admits, biting his lip, his previous cocky demeanor replaced with a shy one, though he tries to mask it. Poorly. His cheeks are pinker than the time you threw paint on him for pulling your pigtails. When you were both 4. "I'd want Bucky jr. to have your brains though"

Imagine that incident sets off a very interesting chain of events. A confession of feelings. You both couldn't be happier, meanwhile your father is grumbling about how he knew this fuckin' day would come, God damn it.

"I never liked that boy" He struggles to keep a scowl on his face watching you giggle like you were 4 again, running to the door as soon as you hear the rumble of his bike.

"Shut up, you love him" Your mom chides, watching Bucky swoop you up for a loving kiss, heading you a bouquet of yellow flowers as he always does.

-

"I still don't like 'em" Your dad says while you roll your eyes, your arm linked with his as he walks you down the aisle.

"Is that why all the files you had to build a case against him all suddenly went missing?" You tease and your dad shugs.

"Wasn't me"

-

just an idea.