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creatingblackcharacters · 5 months

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"Let's Have a Talk, First"- Stereotypes, pt 1

Come sit down. You and I, before we get into any of the things I'm sure you're impatient to know: we need to have a come to Jesus talk, first.

There are some things that I've been asked and seen that strengthens my belief that we need to have a reframing of the conversation on stereotypes in media away from something as simple as "how do I find the checklist of stereotypes to avoid". Because race- and therefore racial stereotypes- is a complex construct! Stands to reason then, that seeing, understanding, and avoiding it won't be that simple! I'm going to give you a couple pointers to (hopefully) help you rethink your approach to this topic, and therefore how to apply it when you're writing Black characters- and even when thinking about Black people!

Point #1: DEVELOP THE CHARACTER!! WRITE!!

Excuse my crude language, but let me be blunt: Black people- and therefore Black characters- will get angry at things, and occasionally make bad choices in the heat of the moment. Some of us like to fuck real nasty, some might be dominant in the bedroom, they may even be incredibly experienced! Others of us succumb to circumstance and make poor decisions that lead to crime.

None of those things inherently makes any of us angry Black women and threatening Black men, Jezebels and BBC Mandingos, and gangsters and thugs!

Black people are PEOPLE! Write us as such!

If all Black characters ever did was go outside, say "hi neighbor!" and walk back in the house, we'd be as boring as racist fans often accuse.

I say this because I feel I've seen advice that I feel makes people think writing a Black character that… Emotes negatively, or gets hurt by life and circumstance, or really enjoys hard sex, or really any scenario where they might "look bad" is the issue. I can tell many people think "well if I write that, then it's a stereotype" and to avoid the difficulty, they'll probably end up writing a flat Black character or not writing them at all. Or- and I've seen this too- they'll overcompensate in the other direction, which reveals that they 'wrote a different sort of Black person!' and it comes off just as awkwardly because it means you think that the Black people that do these things are 'bad'. And I hate that, because we're capable of depth, nuance, good, evil, adventure, world domination, all of it!

My point is, if you write your character like the human being they are, while taking care to recognize that you as the writer are not buying into stereotypes with your OWN messaging, you're fine. We have emotions, we have motivations and goals, we make decisions, and we make mistakes, just like anybody else. Write that! Develop your character!

POINT #2: YOU CAN'T CONTROL THE READERS!!

Okay. You can write the GREATEST Black character ever, full of depth, love, nuance, emotional range, all those things…. And people are still going to be racist about them. Sorry. There is absolutely nothing you can do to control a reader coming from that place of bias you sought to avoid. If it's not there, TRUST AND BELIEVE, it'll be projected onto them.

That passionate young Black woman who told the MC to get her head out of her ass? Yeah she's an angry Black bitch now, and bully to the sweet white MC. Maybe a lesbian mommy figure if they like her enough to "redeem" her. That Black gay male lead that treats his partner like he worships the ground he walks on? Yeah he's an abusive thug that needs to die now because he disagreed One Time with his white partner. That Black trans woman who happened to be competing against the white MC, in a story where the white MC makes comparable choices? Ohhhh they're gonna be VILE about that poor woman.

It really hurts- most especially as a Black fan and writer- knowing that you have something amazing to offer (as a person and creative) and people are gonna spit on that and call it "preference". That they can project themselves onto white characters no matter what, but if you project your experiences onto black characters, it's "pandering", "self insert", "woke", "annoying", "boring", and other foul things we've all gotten comments of.

But expect that it's gonna happen when you write a Black character, again, especially if you're a Black writer. If you're not Black, it won't hurt as personally, but it will probably come as a shock when you put so much effort in to create a lovely character and people are just ass about them. Unfortunately, that is the climate of fandom we currently exist in.

My favorite example is of Louis De Pointe Du Lac from AMC's Interview With The Vampire. Louis is actually one of the best depictions of the existential horror that is being Black in a racist White world I have ever seen written by mostly nonblack people. It was timeless; I related to every single source of racist pain he experienced.

People were HORRIFIC about Louis.

It didn't matter that he was well written and what he symbolized; many white viewers did NOT LIKE this man. There's a level of empathy and understanding that Black characters in particular don't receive in comparison to white counterparts, and that's due to many of those stereotypes and systemic biases I'm going to talk about.

My point is, recognize that while yes, you as the author have a duty to write a character thoughtfully as you can, it's not going to stop the response of the ignorant. Writing seeking to get everyone to understand what you were trying to do… Sisyphean effort. It's better to focus on knowing that YOU wrote something good, that YOU did not write the stereotype that those people are determined to see.

POINT #3: WHY is something a stereotype?

While there are lists of stereotypes against Black people in media and life that can be found, I would appreciate if people stopped approaching it as just a list of things you can check off to avoid. You can know what the stereotypes are, sure, but if you don't understand WHY they're a problem and how they play into perception of us, you'll either end up writing a flat character trying to avoid that list, or you're going to write other things related to that stereotype because "oh its not item #1"... and it'll still be racist.

For example: if you wrote a "sassy Black woman" that does a z formation neck rotation just because a store manager asked her something… that's probably stereotype. If you thought of a character that needed to be "loudmouthed", "sassy", and "strong" and a dark-skinned black woman was automatically what fit the profile in your mind, ding ding ding! THAT'S where you need to catch your racist biases.

But a dark-skinned Black woman character cursing out a store manager because she's had a really bad, stressful day and their attitude towards her pushed her over the edge may be in the wrong, but she's not an "angry Black woman". She's a Black woman that's angry! And if you wrote the day she had to be as bad as would drive anyone to overstimulation and anxiety, the blow up will make sense! The development and writing behind her led to this logical point (which connects to point #1!)

I'm not going to provide a truly exhaustive list of Black stereotypes in media because that would ACTUALLY be worth a college credited class and I do this for free lmao. But I am going to provide some classic examples that can get y'all started on your own research.

POINT #4: WATCH BLACK NARRATIVES!

As always, I'm gonna push supporting Black creators, because that's the best way to see the range of what you'd like. You want to see Black villains? We got those! Black heroes? Black antiheroes? Assholes, lovers, comedians, depressed, criminals, kings, and more? They exist! You can get inspired by watching those movies and reading those books, see how WE depict us!

I've seen mixed reviews on it, BUT- I personally really enjoyed Swarm, because it was one of the first times I'd ever seen that "unhinged obsessed murderous Black fan girl" concept. Tumblr usually loves that shit lmao. Even the "bites you bites you bites you [thing I love]" thing was there. And she liked girls, too. Just saying. I thought it was a fun idea that I'd love to see more of. Y'all gotta give us a chance to be in these roles, to tell these tales. We can do it too, and you'd enjoy it if you tried to understand it!

POINT#5: You are NOT Black!

This is obvious lmao, but if you're not Black, there's no need to pretend. There's no need to think "oh well I have to get a 100% perfect depiction of the Black person's mind". That's… That's gonna look cringe, at its best. You don't have to do that in order to avoid stereotypes. You're not going to be able to catch every nuance because it's not your lived experience, nor is it the societally enforced culture. Just… Do what you can, and if you feel like it's coming off hokey… Maybe consider if you want to continue this way lol. If you know of any Black beta readers or sensitivity reviewers, that'd be a good time to check in!

For example, if your Black character is talking about "what's good my homie" and there's absolutely no reason for him to be speaking that way other than to indicate that he's Black… 😬 I can't stop you but… Are you sure?

An egregious example of a TERRIBLE way to write a Black character is the "What If: Miles Morales/Thor" comic. I want to emphasize the lack of good Black character design involved in some of these PROFESSIONAL art spaces, because that MARVEL comic PASSED QA!! That comic went past NUMEROUS sets of eyes and was APPROVED!! IT GOT RELEASED!! NO ONE STOPPED IT!!

I'm sorry, it was just so racist-ly bad that it was hilarious. Like you couldn't make that shit up.

Anyway, unfortunately that's how some of y'all sound trying to write AAVE. I promise that we speak the Queen's English too lmao. If you're worried you won't get it right, just use the standard form of English. It's fine! Personally, I'd much rather you do that than try to 'decode AAVE' if you don't know how to use it.

My point is, if you're actively "forcing" yourself to "think Black"… maybe you need to stand down and reconsider your approach lmao. This is why understanding the stereotypes and social environment behind them will help you write better, because you can incorporate that Blackness- without having to verbally "emphasize how Black this is"- into their character, motivations, and actions.

Conclusion

We need to reconsider how we approach the concepts of stereotypes when writing our Black characters. The goal is not to cross off a checklist of things to avoid per se, but to understand WHY we have to develop our Black characters well enough to avoid incorporating them into our writing. Give your Black characters substance- we're human beings! We have motivations and fears and desires! We're not perfect, but we're not inherently flawed because of our race. That's what makes the difference!

And as always, and really in particular for this topic, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black character design #black culture #stereotypes #antiblackness

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reiderwriter · 11 months

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Dirty Cops

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: With a dirty cop killing women in the BDSM community running loose you and Spencer have to devise an equally dirty plan to catch him in the act.

Warnings: Kintober Day 22 - S&M, BDSM themes, public sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, interrupted sex (both of them are cockblocked by the job).

A/N: I'M BACK! Sorry for the delay. This is the fic that has been beating my ass for about two weeks now. I fear I put too much detail into the case, and now I'm 6k words deep into a part one of a fic that should've been a 3k standalone.... oops! I hope you enjoy~

You sat in your office hands on your forehead as you desperately searched for the solution to your problems. 12 women, 12 homicides that VICAP had just spotted were easily similar. All in the same jurisdiction, and yet no connections made by their police force.

Something was going on in Tampa, and you needed to get to the bottom of it before another person died.

You supposed it didn't really help that some of the women had died in some pretty unorthodox ways. Strangulation, blunt force trauma, evidence of rope burns, and having been held hostage but not for long. Things your team was familiar with, but local detectives usually couldn't stomach.

As the BAU's brand new liaison officer, you got the job of convincing the local law enforcement to invite you in. They certainly weren't making it easy for you.

"Listen, I'm telling you there's something here, sir, if you'd just check the case files. We're only trying to help."

"You're trying to stick your nose in my departments business because you think your fancy FBI agents can handle my cases better than me."

"Sir, with all due respect -"

"Fine, you think you can come find whoever whacked these street whores you come and do it." You took in a sharp breath and paused, trying to make sure if you were hearing him correctly.

"What do you mean by whores, Captain? Choose your words very carefully." The warning was a bonus, knowing your voice had already done such a 180 he was probably regretting his previous word choices. As far as you knew none of the victims were wex workers. They mainly had office jobs or were even stay ah hone mom's.

"Each and every one of these women were jezebel's. Cheating, doing dirty things while showing their faces in church. They attended a certain establishment, not a Christian one, if you understand what I'm telling you, Miss."

"It's Agent, actually, and if you ever leave these details out of a case file ever again, I'll make sure to have your badge pinned up on my wall like a hunting trophy. Are we clear, Captain?" He stuttered out a yes, but you cut him off quickly.

"My team and I will arrive later today. Expect us for lunch." You said, slamming the receiver down and finally releasing a huff of breath you'd been saying for emergencies.

A whistle from the door finally draws your attention after a few minutes.

"Okay, Y/N," JJ clapped, looking impressed. "Who pissed you off?"

"Just the Captain at the precinct who just very politely invited us to consult on our next case." You threw the file in her direction as she set down the coffee she'd bought you, picking it up to peruse it. "Where's Hotch? I need to tell him we've got to go now before they change their minds."

"You know you want to say it," she teased as you began walking out of the office to find your elusive boss.

"Ha. Sure. Wheels up in 30, Jennifer." She raised her coffee in a salute to you as you finally took off, getting ready to go to war against an unhelpful police precinct.

–X–

With all the time you don't have, you end up briefing the team on the jet. You have to stand and grab the edge of the table as you try not to pace up and down the aisle.

"Twelve victims, all women between the ages of 20 to 28. He's crossing race lines, so I don't think they're placeholders." In all honesty, this case had pissed you off.

Twelve dead women and no one seemed to care until you phoned the department up yourself when VICAP flagged it all with you. Half of the cases had been closed for lack of evidence, and the other half so poorly investigated that you knew it was only a matter of time before they got boxed up and shelved too.

"The general public in Zephyrhills doesn't even know they have a serial killer. No one is being told to exert caution. There's no local press on this either."

"It says that these women were all killed, but there's no viable DNA they could pick up?" Morgan asks, looking up at you.

"That's right, no DNA evidence can be lifted, but spermicide was found on three of the victims."

"So our unsub was wearing a condom. He came prepared, and we were dealing with a serial rapist who has bridged into murdering his victims."

"There was no spermicide found on the other nine victims?" Emily looks up at you from her place at the small table.

"No. Rape test kits weren't run on any of the other victims because, quote: 'it was pretty obvious what had happened.' The precinct waited too long to collect the DNA evidence and now we don't have enough to locate, let alone prosecute an unsub based on DNA."

The whole team shared in your stressed look then, sending you matching sympathetic glances as they suddenly understood the herculean task you'd taken on trying to convince the locals to invite you in.

Not noticing the awkward silence that fell on the group, Spencer spoke up quickly from his place, standing beside you.

"You know, Zephyrhills is only about an hour away from Tampa. Tampa is the number one hook up spot in the US. It's residents boast on average 14 orgasms a month instead of the nationwide average of 12.5." He seemed pleased with the knowledge he'd just let everyone in on, as you looked back on him.

"Right. So our guy is trying to get his rocks off to out gun the rest of the country. Thanks, Spencer."

"It's relevant. It's says in the casefile here that three of our victims were last spotted on the highway making their way to Tampa, but then their bodies were found dumped in Zephyrhills. What if he's following them?"

"Spencer has a point, but if he's following them, what gets them to turn around? The cars were found abandoned in Zephyrhills, too, none of these women made it to Tampa." Hotch adds, and you make eye contact with him as your next thought comes to you.

"What could get someone to stop on a highway?" You ask, the question so simple, every single one of them knew the answer before you'd even finished asking.

"A cop." JJ filled in, and you all sat silently as you realised how dangerous this next case could truly be.

"We're about an hour out from arrival, everyone get some rest for now, I'm going to make a call to the nearest FBI Field Office, see if any of this is on their radar."

You slunked back to your seat at the back of the jet and sat down again, trying to get comfy but ending up just shifting multiple times in your seat.

Spencer joined you, sitting beside you, so close you could feel his eyes on you as your leg began to bounce. He put his hand over it and, with a strong hand, stilled the movement.

"Y/N, you did a good job connecting these cases." His voice was meek and calming, and you'd generally very much appreciate it if his hand weren't sending your body through some serious loops right then.

Your leg was on fire where he was touching you, his hand hot even through the fabric of your clothes. But when he pulled the hand away, watching your legs for any further tremors, you felt the need to snatch it back and replace it on your leg, certain that it would sooth the burning once more.

You snapped yourself out of it quickly. If you were thinking this way about Spencer of all people, then you really needed to get laid.

"Tampa's population consists of 43% singles, you know. Good statistics for getting laid." You twisted your head around to meet his eyes again.

"Tell me I didn't say that outloud." But his small smile dashed your hopes as you realised you just admitted to feeling incredibly horny because of his hand on your knee.

"If it's any consolation, I'm definitely the only one who heard it." His hand fell back to your thigh, and you twitched as it did, but you didn't move him.

"Fucking floridians and their goddamn 14 orgams a month," you muttered under your breath, hoping that he wasn't paying any attention to you now, seeing as how he'd opened up a book to hold in one hand.

"Lucky if I get even one and Florida man has 14 in him." You continue mumbling as you try to get cosy, closing your eyes and moving your head to find a comfortable position.

“You definitely said that one out loud.” He laughed, and you threw up your middle finger while letting your head fall back and your body take the rest it needed.

Without opening your eyes, you decided you needed the last word, a phenomenon you often found occurring in Spencer’s presence.

“A gentleman would pretend to not have heard that, Spencer.”

“I’m not a gentleman.” Annoyance prickled you at his reply, but you were too tired to say anything more as you caught up with the sleep that had been evading you for weeks.

–X–

Your landing in Florida comes almost too soon, and Hotch delegates tasks before you’ve even had the chance to properly get your feet beneath you after so long in the sky.

This case was becoming more of a mindfield with each of the pieces of information you’d received. Upon getting off of his call with the FBI Field Office closest to Zephryhills, Hotch had informed the team about an ongoing investigation into the police captain’s wife, whose pseudo-Christian church group were spewing vitriol about damn near every group you could think of.

“Religious discrimination, racism, sexism, homophobia and some pretty screwed up views of basically everything else, too.” Penelope had informed the group, pulling up the files that had been sent to her.

“It seems their most recent project is… Oh, how relevant. An adult establishment just opened up on the outskirts of Tampa, right on the highway that connects it to Zephyrhills. And from the boasts of the club owner on social media, it seems he’s telling anyone who listens that he’s not going to get shut down because the police are his main clientele.”

She sent through links to some of the posts to your iPads, and you angled the thing towards Spencer so he could take in the new information as well.

“Could we be looking at a religious motive to the murders? You said that the police captain called these women Jezebels. The name is biblical, she was a Queen who worshipped a false god and was defenestrated because of it, but over time, the uncapitalised jezebel, as you know, tended to refer to women with loose morals.”

“The motives could still be religious, but these women were raped. It says in the case files that Mrs. James’s church group is solely comprised of women, mostly the wives of the officers in the police force.”

Again, everything was leading you back to this stupid police precinct. You grimmaced as you realised that the next few weeks were going to be spent on the edge watching your back.

“Y/N, Reid, I want you both with me at the precinct when we land. Morgan, JJ, go to the church and interview some of the ladies there, see if you can’t push some buttons. Emily, Rossi, some of the family’s of the victims got in touch with the field office to request inquiries, go anf find out whatever you can about the last known whereabouts of these women.”

Now bracing yourself, you set your face in a neutral expression and let Spencer hold the door open for you as you walked into the station.

“Hello, we’re the agents from the FBI. Where can we find your captain?” You ask the receptionist at the chatting to her desk, but just as you finish your inquiry, another officer cuts you off, stepping half in front of you and demanding some files from the woman.

She stands awkwardly, sending you an apologetic glance as she scurries off to go and complete whatever busy work he’s just given her as you quietly seeth at his back.

The officer turns around to you and grins, sending you a smile as he walks off, apparently pleased with himself for foiling your attempts to find his boss.

“Y/N, keep a cool head. The captain’s office seems to be just ahead, I’m going to go and see if he’s there, smooth out some of the issues they seem to be having over here with our presence.” You nod and stay back with Spencer, who takes a quick seat behind you.

You don’t sit, though, too on edge and pissed off to get comfortable now.

The officers seem to ignore the two of you, bustling around you with no sense of shame, but you can tell they're watching you, hearing the low murmur of whispers.

When one of them decides to out their hands on you, though, you've decided you've had enough.

"Sorry, little lady, I need to get through. Important police business." He practically Leeds down at you as his hands grab your waist, meaning to move you aside to her you out of his path.

You don't give him the chance, grabbing his hands from your hips and twisting them behind his back quickly, shoving him face first into the nearest desk.

"Fuck, you little bitch. Come and control your partner, man." He struggles in your grasp, signalling to Spencer.

You grin as Spencer doesn't even look up at him, having pulled out a copy of War and Peace and settling nicely in his seat. You could tell he was on edge though, had seen the slight way his body tensed when you'd first been touched, and knew that if you'd needed it, he'd be there backing you up in a second.

"Sorry, are you talking to me?" He finally said, still not looking up from his book.

"Yes, get this bitch off of me."

"If you ask her nicely, I'm sure Agent Y/N would release you. As for me, I'm certainly not making her do anything she doesn't want to." He grinned as he said it, and you rolled your eyes slightly.

"Maybe if you told some of these other agents here to stop looking at her likes, she's a hunk of meat and greeted her respectfully instead of calling her… little lady, was it? Maybe then she'd be more generous." The man grumbled beneath you again, but before you could actually force his hand, Hotch and the Captain were exiting his office, obviously alerted by the crashing sound you'd made.

"Reid, Y/N, that's enough." Hotch signalled, and you complied, letting the man go and stepping back to Reid's side. He'd stood now, squaring his shoulders and making use of his quite intimidating height. You must seem tense, though, because the second you settle next to him, he puts a hand on your lower back, and you're surprised at how calm you instantly become.

Earlier, his touch had been fire and ice, and now it was relaxing you beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with your body recently?

"Thank you, sir," the officer said, straightening, dusting off his uniform as he levelled a glare at both you and Spencer. "I was beginning to think the FBI was just a bunch of sissy's and menstruators-"

"Cut the crap." Hotch barked out, and even you were startled by the sound. "Captain, if you or any member of your precinct says anything further about any member of my team, or god forbid puts a hand on them, I'll personally make sure this office is charged with conspiracy to murder for not investigating these deaths and aggravated assault of a federal officer. Do I make myself clear?"

The man seemed displeased at having his badge threatened for a second time in 24 hours, but nodded, dismissed the other officer, and finally shut up.

He has the female receptionist from earlier show you to the room you'd be using for your investigation for the next few weeks.

After making sure the room is secure, you place a call to Penelope and the others trying to gauge if they'd found any further leads.

"Some of the family members know exactly where they were going that night. One of them had a husband, said he was going with her, that they drove in separate cars because it was part of the thrill of it all." Emily's voice sounded tense and frustrated, and you could only sympathise silently before jumping in to ask her more questions.

"I thought they said it was an adult establishment? Does that not mean strip club?" You asked, perplexed at why the married couple would be going together.

"No, from what I can tell, it seems these women were members of the BDSM community, and that place… is somewhere they can practice."

"So even if we do somehow get another victim, any DNA test could be questionable evidence because they all left to have consensual sex." You sighed out and ran a stressed hand through your hair.

On your call with JJ and Morgan, you got much of the same.

"Oh, they're angry, alright. About the immigrants and the drug dealers, the homosexuals, and the jezebels. Seems they're working hard to get the club closed not just because it's a house of sin but also because the man who owns it might be an illegal immigrant."

"How quaint and Christian of them."

"Yep, and get this, the club's official title? Women for the Grace of God. There were no men in this group, Y/N. We're not going to find our unsub here."

Hanging up, you let your head hang, the fatigue of the case really kicking your ass.

"Spencer, draw the blinds, Y/N, lock the doors." Hotch ordered, and you listened, quickly making sure that no one was even close to the door. Returning to your seat, you noted the tense set of your boss's jaw and decided that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good.

"Our unsub is in this precinct, which means we're not safe. But it also puts us in a unique position. They don't know we suspect them yet. We can force the unsubs hand."

You straightened in your chair, listening closer.

"You want to bait them out?" Spencer asked from his place beside you.

"I want you two to bait them out. You already got under a few of the officers' skin, push a few more buttons, and we could get our unsub to slip up."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" You asked, heart thumping in anticipation. You thought you already knew, but you needed to hear the words from his mouth to be sure.

"They're going after women in the BDSM lifestyle. Let's convince them that the two of you are also similarly involved."

He turned and left you with the decision then, leaving you and Spencer in the small room alone.

Your palms were sweaty, and you refused eye contact for a few minutes before he finally cracked and gave in first.

"It'd work." He whispered, suddenly closer than you remembered.

"What?"

"It would work. Whoever this guy is, he's getting off on dominating these women, seeing another man that he deems physically inferior dominating a woman who's already kicked an officers ass… that's enough to get him to crumble, slip up."

"So I'm supposed to just bend over and take it?"

"Bend over, yes, but I usually prefer women to be a bit bratty."

"What?" You found yourself blinking up at his face, even as the door swung open again, another officer walking into the small room you'd been left in.

You stepped away from Reid slightly, putting a more appropriate distance between the two of you before the man started talking.

"Well hello, I heard we had some feds in the office, thought I'd come introduce myself, but I didn't hear we had such a beautiful woman here, too. She a witness?" He directed the question to Spencer, but his leering eyes never left your body, trailing down slowly and disgustingly as you tried not to shudder under his gaze.

"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, this is my partner, Agent Y/N. How can we help you?"

"Oh, I'm all set on my medicals, doc. You can't help me. Maybe she can if you let me take her out for a test drive?" Your blood boiled as he said those words, and you were about to send a cutting reply back to the man, when Spencer sat back down in his seat, snaking an arm around your waist to take you with him.

"Sorry, I don't lend out my private property." Stunned, you tried to act naturally about your new position, but his hand on your thigh slashes your brain capacity down by half, the only thought in your head running through Spencer Reid's possible sexual preferences.

"Oh, I see how it is. She's a slut, just not that kind. Okay, I'll bite, what's this one into? Choking, spanking? Careful, don't go too far or you'll be prime suspect number one for our perp."

"What are you insinuating, officer?"

"That these sluts you're asking about got in over their heads. Some women like it rough, practically beg for it. Poor guy just did what they were asking." Biting your tongue, you let the man keep digging his own hole, as Spencer kept him talking.

"Actually, contrary to popular opinion, in most sado-masochistic relationships, the submissive partner is the one in control. They have power to stop whatever role play is going on in the scene through safe words and actions, and the dominant role is more of a protective role, requiring a deep level of commitment and care for their sub." As he said it, he turned your face to his, hooking a finger under your chin and then stroking your face as you fell further into his body.

You almost forgot the other officer was there until you heard his grumbled reply, turning your head slightly to whisper in Reid's ear.

"Long shot, Doc." With that, you climbed from his lap, turning back to the other officer with a grin.

"Sorry, was there anything professional we could help you with? Or would you like to go and deal with your little problem alone in the men's bathroom now?" He turned on his heels and exited swiftly, face red with rage at your insinuations.

"Okay. I'll admit, it's going to work. But we're going to need to set up some bait and deliver the profile to them to make sure we have each and every one of their attentions."

"I'll notify, Hotch."

"Spencer, wait." He stopped at the door and turned back to listen to you. "Earlier when you said… when you mentioned that you'd prefer…" You tried to ask the question but it seemed the question just wasn't going to form on your lips so you simply let out a small frustrated humph and let him figure out the rest.

"Y/N, I… I don't know how to answer that question and still act professionally around you."

He left the room shortly after, and you couldn't help but feel disappointed at the distance suddenly kept between the two of you. You were beginning to become much too distracted by Spencer Reid.

–X–

"Let's have another rundown again, just so we're all clear on the play by play on this." Morgan said as you and Spencer were wired up, ready for your operation.

It wasn't exactly undercover, but it wasn't quite straight police work either, but here you were. After giving the profile earlier, you'd noted that three of the officers had seemed a little bit fidgety under all the new information they were getting, all three of them matching your profile.

Unluckily for you, they just happened to be the Captain in charge of the precinct, Detective Handsy from your first trip into the office, and Detective Dumbass, who'd asked you and Spencer all about BDSM earlier that day.

Penelope had filled you in on each of their backgrounds. The Captain was second generation police force, but court of public opinion had ruled that his father wasn't exactly an upstanding guy, a report corroborated by his mother's multiple accidents and trips to the ER. Detective Handsy had a misdemeanour sex crime expunged from his juvenile record for masturbating in public - on the unconscious girl who sat next to him on the bus.

Detective Dumbass seemed to be the police contact for all the local prostitutes. He'd busted at least thirty in three months, and each of them had reportedly tried to turn him in as the John who'd paid for their services.

"Run through it again." Morgan brought you down to earth as JJ finished attaching the wire under your clothing, handing you the small in ear so you could hear updates from the team.

"We walk into the bar, get a little too close for comfort than they'd like, then ask the bartender where we can have some fun around here. She's been prepped to give us the answer we want, and we set out on the highway where Rossi and Hotch are waiting in unmarked cars to give us an escort until our unsub takes the bait and tries to pull us over."

"Good, now, Spencer, do I have to show you where to put your hands, or do you think you've read enough to figure out how to push the right buttons?" From the grin on his face, it was evident he was enjoy pushing the younger man's buttons but you could tell he wasn't doing it maliciously. The two of you were both tense and on edge, and you needed that waylaid somehow.

"Trust me, Morgan, I think he knows where his fingers should go." You said before grabbing Spencer’s hand and dragging him out of the vehicle, not letting him go until you were right by the door of the bar.

You didn't really let him go either, it's more like he caught up to you and moved his hand from yours to your ass instead, pulling you closer into his body as you made to move inside the bar.

He hesitated a moment outside, though.

"Y/N, we haven't talked about boundaries yet. I'm going to have to touch you in there and-"

"You have my permission. For anything." Your words come faster than you expect, but they're there, filling the silence of the night quickly.

"Anything?" He asks, a small play lighting up his lips as he pulls you in closer. You can feel his breath on your skin, and you almost take back your words until he lowers his head. Your lips are barely an inch apart and getting slowly closer as you angle your head up towards him, when the bar doors swing open and he turns and pulls you inside instead.

You recover quickly, trying to focus on the twelve women who need to find justice rather than the many things you suddenly want Spencer Reid to be doing to you.

You slide into a booth at the edge of the bar but you'd canvassed the place earlier, knowing that while it appeared to be a quiet corner, every other table had a clear view of your actions in the corner.

Surely enough you felt a few pairs of eyes on you as you sat down, a little closer for comfort than you expected.

"Well, Penelope's sources were correct. It seems like every cop in town is here tonight." You said, whispering the words into Spencer's neck, just above where his own wire was placed, making sure the words were heard by both him and the members of your team left in the surveillance van.

"Show time," he said, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips as you stood. He gave your ass a quick slap as you made to walk towards the bar, and you sent him back a wink as you walked to order your drinks.

Ordering them quickly, you took a simple scan of the room, noting that all three of your suspects were social butterflies tonight. They all sat on different tables, but each had at least another man with him, and every single one of them was looking at you presitorially.

Returning to your seat with the drinks, you never felt their gazes leave you.

"Certainly caught their attention. What now?" You asked hesitantly, sliding up against Spencer’s body again.

"Now we give them a show." He said, snaking a hand between your legs and forcing them apart gently. You'd changed into a shorter skirt and smaller top before coming back out, needing to look the part of the slut they'd already deemed you.

You smiled up at Spencer as he stoked your thigh suggestively, but he never moved it further up.

"Spencer, kiss me." You said, eyelids heavy as you begged the man to take you further than touching.

"Why?" He asked softly in your ear.

"Because a few of our suspects are getting restless, and I want to see if we can tip some of them over the edge. Obviously you're smarter than trying to stick your hand up my skirt in public surrounded by a group of cops who would happily stick you in a cell for the night for public indecency, so you're just going to have to stick your tongue down my throat."

"Here I was thinking maybe you wanted it," he grumbled but complied anyway, grabbing the back of your head with his free hand and pulling you towards him. The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle the way his caresses were. It was hot and it was demanding, and when he pulled away after a minute and your lips followed his desperate for more he grabbed your hair and pulled you backwards, baring your neck to him easily as he moved his lips down slightly.

Opening your eyes then, you again surveyed the bar, noting that the Captain and his friends were leaving, sending a stink eyed glare in your direction as they threw down their cups and left.

"Morgan, get eyes on the Captain. Make sure he goes home and stays there," you breathe out quietly, waiting to hear the affirmative in your ear as Spencer kept his head buried at your neck.

In another second, he was off you, taking a swig only his drink as he smoothed your hair down again. You do your best to ignore the history pooling between your legs and the haze clouding up your brain as you stare at him swallow the drink, watching a small stream of the soda you'd ordered him instead run down his chin.

You watched it fall and, in a moment of thoughtlessness, pressed forward to lap it up from his neck. He'd spent time marking you. What harm could this do now?

However you rationalised it, you knew it was just an impulse, one greatly rewarded by his hands pulling your hips over his and a growl in your ears.

"Anything?" Was the only thing he said, and you pulled away to look into his eyes again before he pulled you in for another kiss.

"Sorry to interrupt, love bunnies, but we've had a change of plan. Two of our suspects are out, and they've bailed and been safely and discreetly escorted home by FBI agents from the field office. Hotch and Rossi are on the way back. He thinks we can nail him in there and get him to act out."

Pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper your reply to Morgan into Spencer's mic, you can barely tear your eyes away from the man.

"What do you want us to do?"

"Men's bathroom is free. Hotch thinks if we make it look like you're doing something less than holy in there that it could force his hand. Especially because he's shown voyeuristic tendencies in the past."

"Shit. Detective Dumbass?"

"Only one left. And his name is Dunbar. You'd do well to remember that in the paperwork."

Pulling yourself up and out of Spencer's lap, you took a swig of your drink again as you stood.

"Follow me in three minutes." He grabs you by your wrist and turns you back around to him again, though before you can leave.

"Y/N, we're going to get this guy. After we do, I think we should talk." Instead of answering him, you pressed another lingering kiss to his lips and moved out again, heading directly to the dark corridor where the bathrooms were.

You slipped into the men's easily enough, thankful that it was empty. It was a single stall, and when you heard the knock on the door two minutes later, you were suddenly thankful that it was, because it meant that you could lock the door behind him and not risk anyone else coming in while you baited your unsub.

Spencer placed a hand to his lips as soon as he made it through the door, pulling out his phone to type out a message to you without speaking.

"Followed me. Think he's listening outside."

You pulled your own out to answer him.

"Let's give him a show then."

The both of you discarded your phones on the countertop of the bathroom and suddenly collided again, as if you were two magnets who could no longer resist the pull.

Your lips fought hungrily, and now you didn't pull back your voice letting all the moans of pleasure fall from your mouth and fill the bathroom.

His hands were on you in an instant, pushing you back against the door, letting the creep behind the wall hear as much as possible as his hips found yours and you started grinding against him like your life depended on it.

You could no longer tell what you were doing for the case, and what you were doing out of the simple desire to do so, wrapped up in all of the pleasure he was giving you in that minute. And that was before he started talking.

"You like that, whore? You like feeling my hands on you out here in this dirty bathroom." You clenched around nothing, even as his hands trailed lower, reaching the top of your skirt just as you replied.

"Yes, I like that, Daddy. Please touch me more."

You crashed together again, even as Spencer's hand fell inside your skirt and panties suddenly reaching for your clit. You forgot everything. The bathroom, the unsub, the wire you were wearing. When his hands were on you your only thoughts were him.

You gasped in delight as he began rubbing you, moaning out heartily, not bothering to restrain your voice. Even if there was not a murderer on the other side of the door, you'd have wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel.

"Kneel," he says, and you listen, getting down to the dirty floor for him and looking up at him innocently.

"Now what, sir?" You ask, teasing him with a smile. He gives your face a light slap in reply, but the sound is sharp, and you can hear some movement outside. You don't get to think about it for too long, however, as he suddenly removes his cock from his pants.

"Suck" is all the instruction you need before you're taking him into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around him.

After the entire night of teasing, you don't have to be told twice. You take him down your throat until you're gagging, but he puts his hands on your head and pushes you further anyway.

"That's it, baby, such a nice little slut just for me." He holds your hair as he begins fucking your face, softly whispering insults into the quiet bathroom.

"Perfect little slut, letting me do this here. For anyone to see and hear how much you like my dick down your throat. I should unlock this door, show everyone how nicely you take my cock."

You moan around him, desperately gripping his thigh as you struggle to breathe. He finally pulls out, pulling you up by your hair until you're face to face with him again, saliva dripping from your mouth.

"Is that how you like it?" He asks, and you nod fervently.

"Yes, sir. Please fuck me now, I've been such a good little girl."

He turns you and presses you against the door again. As you turn your ear to it, you can hear some pacing outside of it as he lifts up your skirt.

You were ready to feel this perfect bliss, right up to the moment Morgan decided to remind you of the task at hand.

"Hotch is here. We've got him cornered. Great acting, guys. We're thinking if Y/N exits the bathroom now, we can catch him trying to carry her off."

His hands stilled on you, and you both stared guiltily into each other's eyes. You kept your sounds up, definitely acting now, feeling as though you'd just been doused in ice-cold water.

Footsteps retreating down the hall had you suddenly nodding in response to each other, faking your orgasm with one last large gasp followed by a few minutes of silence and you straightened your clothes ready to bait the unsub once again. He tucks himself into his pants, and you loudly discuss your plans for separate exits.

"I'll meet you back at the table in five." He says, and with another lingering look, you're out the door and alone in the dark corridor, feeling empty and needy.

It was time to catch a killer.

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fraugwinska · 4 months

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Hey! Me again!

Could I get an Alastor x Female reader where she tells him she's pregnant, he's so stunned he thinks it a joke until she shows him the positive on the test and it shocks him to the core but after the initial shock he's overjoyed.

My dear jezebel <3 Thank you for being so patient! I took a few liberties from the ask, I really hope you don't mind! After a lot of rewrites and edits - I'm finally happy to share it with you! Thank you for the ask, my dearest! TW:Sickness&death-Light smut-Minors DNI-5.2k words

Autumn had always been your favorite season.

The most colorful of the four; from your bed you could always see various shades of red, orange, green and yellow, all mixed together to create a vibrant, warm impressionistic painting. Just looking at the bright shades outside had always made you smile.

There was also this peaceful ambiance around autumn that you could feel but not quite understand. Something so profound and yet ephemeral in a way.

"Should I close the window before I go?", Alice asked you, a sad smile on her face. Your favorite hospice nurse had spent her last shift before her holiday almost exclusively with you - somehow you both knew there wasn't much time left. The sickness that ate away at your body was unforgiving - you knew it was simply a matter of days now, and even that was generous. Alice must've sensed it, too.

"No, no.", you replied with a warm smile. "Leave it open. The night nurse can close it later."

Alice nodded, said her goodbyes and gave you a kiss on the head before exiting the room, carefully closing the heavy wooden door with a thud of painful finality. Breathing had become painful lately, but despite the sting you inhaled deeply, just to burn the smell of bristle leafs and warm wood into your memory. Right next to the memory of him.

Alastor.

Summoning him hadn't been easy, especially since you were bedridden and almost constantly monitored. Not only did you have to take special care of choosing the right night to be left unsupervised - you had to bribe Alice and make her believe it was her own idea to give you a few hours to be on your own, which you claimed to need desperately. The internet had been your biggest friend in the weeks before, preparing - you had used the time you had at your disposal to research on shady websites and occult forums who to summon, how to do the ritual and, in case he said no, which bargain to offer. And you chose Alastor.

It was the name that spoke to you the most - Unusual. Mature. Vintage. Mysterious. Powerful and yet gentle, in it's own way. 'Mans defender'. 'Avenger'. The more you read about him on dubious servers and obscure wiki's, the more you were sure it should be him. Still able to use your hands back then, in the chosen night you managed to follow all of the instructions perfectly, even while bound to your bed. When the living shadow appeared out of nowhere, twisting and contorting into the shape of a tall, handsome, dapper dressed demon, the tiny handheld radio you had in your hands slid from your weakened grip and your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped nearer, the perceived humanity of his appearance disappeared before your eyes - long, black fingers ending in red talons, small antlers sitting in between fluffy crimson-colored ears, razor-sharp teeth and blood-red irises shining with curiosity. He stopped just a foot away in front of your bed. As he began to talk, to introduce himself - as though being summoned by gravely sick human women were the norm - you stopped him with a raise of your hand, the action draining your already weakened body and mind.

"I know who you are. Alastor, the Radio Demon."

"My reputation precedes me, then!", he chimed, his voice pointed, melodic and so enchantingly and contradictorily full of life. His whole posture, his devious smile and the way his eyes glinted in the dim moonlight made it very clear that he was a dangerous creature, and yet, you felt strangely at ease.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this summoning, my dear?"

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that if you wanted him to accept your deal, you needed to choose your words carefully.

"I... I am dying."

Alastor's grin twitched, but he said nothing, only tilted his head and waited for you to continue, hands folded behind his back.

"I've been sick my whole life, I...", you felt the need to explain, so that your offer wouldn't sound so... well, pitiful.

"Ever since I was born, I have been bound first to my crib, then to a bed, the hospital and now this hospice. I have never been allowed or even able to go to school, or make friends, or just... do things that children ought to do. Even though my life was always going to be short lived."

You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but blinked them away - you didn't want to cry in front of him, you felt pathetic as you were already. "I missed out on every milestone, every first experience a girl should have. First trip to a park, first day at school, first friend, first kiss, first... everything. And I'll miss out on so many more. I just want to have one normal thing, one 'first' before I die. One memory of a real and happy experience. Of something good."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?", he asked, a brow raised, his smile growing wider. He could probably hear the beating of your heart as you took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

"I want to lose my virginity."

The silence following your calmly stated confession was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It took a while for Alastor to say something.

"Oh my, you really don't mince words, do you, darling?"

You shook your head.

"I have no time to waste. Every second counts."

"Believe me, little one, I'm quite... flattered that you'd go through the trouble of a summoning ritual for this... let's call it: venture. But... why me? Aren't there any men up here you would rather be with?"

"Have you looked at me?", you laughed bitterly. "I'm a sick, dying 20-something in a hospice bed. No man would ever so much as touch me. If I'd even get to meet anyone, since I can't get out of this bed anymore without a nurse. I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, not even money. I have only my soul. Please."

The last word came out as a whisper. Alastor's eyes glowed red in the growing darkness, his grin ever-present. He seemed to consider it for a moment, the sound of humming static the only sound in the room and you feared he might reject you.

"If I were to agree, would you truly be willing to pay the price for it? Your soul, darling, is a very precious thing. Do you know the implications of it's loss?"

You nodded.

"Yes. You can have it. It's not worth anything anyway."

Alastor stepped forward, his eyes locked with yours. He didn't sit down on the bed, instead he stood right beside you, bending over until his face was just inches from yours, the back of his hand lightly brushing your fringe out of your face. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of blood and something earthy, like wet soil or moss. He smelled like a forest in autumn.

"It is worth quite a bit, actually. More than you can imagine, I'd wager.", his voice was quiet, almost unfiltered and utterly beautiful. "But I can see you are dead set on it - Pardon the wordplay."

His sharp claw pressed into your skin, eliciting a gasp. He followed the curve of your cheek to your chin, lifting it to better access the side of your neck, just under your jaw. Your skin broke out in goosebumps because for the first time in your life, you felt a touch that was not clinical, not meant to treat you or wastefully bide you more time. This touch was gentle and purposeful. Sensual, maybe. A soft sigh escaped you against your will.

Alastor let out a hum that was not entirely unhappy, before bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the ends of his fluffy hair tickling your face, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your skin.

"A happy memory, you say. One satisfying experience in return for your soul. I am certainly not usually known for my kindness, dear.", he muttered against the skin of your cheek, before turning towards your lips. So close. Your heart was beating as loud and as fast as it could, making you dizzy. "But I think we have ourselves a deal."

The golden hour has passed, turning bright orange light into fading blue to black. And the air was turning colder. The memory of that night was the only thing you thought about as you slowly felt death approaching.

The way his lips felt against your mouth, his tongue and the sweet taste he left on your lips that still lingered whenever you ran yours across them, recalling the sensation just once more. He had been gentle, patient, always asking and never assuming or forceful. He made sure you were comfortable before exploring you, careful in the places he touched, mindful in tasting you, praising you for the sounds you made. He allowed you to do your share of exploring, too, and although he wasn't human you found his body still wonderfully, beautifully male, no matter his thin, soft taupe fur and his many, shimmering scars. The memory of the moment when he had finally filled you, tender and slow, was as much sweet pain as it was blissful pleasure, and you found solace in his warmth and the steady, rhythmic pace of him moving inside you as you spilled his name, over and over again until he spent himself inside you, bodies deeply connected. It was hard for you to believe that all of it had been actually true, and not just one big fever dream your dying mind had cooked up to send you off gently when Alice woke you from your sleep later that night, wondering aloud why you didn't turn off the little, handheld radio on the floor that was still playing soft jazz music.

But the little, red and blue marks on your collarbones and the one red-and-black strand of hair you had found on your pillow were telltale signs that everything had been indeed real, and you made sure every detail was etched into your heart, into your body and into your skin. It was, and would remain forever, the happiest moment of your entire life.

'I hope my soul is worth enough...' you thought as the coldness finally embraced you, tears running freely down your cheeks now, but the smile on your face was wide and warm, and the last thing you heard before falling into your final sleep was the gentle hum of a breeze that brought in the smell of earth and rain and leaves.

Alastor had no need for sleep. He usually didn't spend his nights sitting in his favorite chair, motionless, listening to music. He was far too busy, too full of life and plans and energy to sit around and just wait for morning. And yet, there he was, sitting and brooding for the last month, every night, his ears tuned in on the low, static-y noise coming from the old-fashioned radio he was holding. A radio eerily similar to hers.

'How did it come to this?', he wondered for the thousandth time, like a broken record. 'Why did I do it?'

He couldn't fathom the reason for his actions that night, why he had given in to the strange, frivolous request of the frail young woman. Why he had agreed to take her virginity, of all things, in exchange for her soul. Granted, she wasn't the first to offer him that, not by far. But usually, the soul was the last thing a sinner offered, after a great many things of lesser value had been already offered and declined in return. It was, in essence, the most desperate measure, taken only by those who had nothing else to lose.

And yet, she had promised him her soul in the very beginning, treating it not as a valuable bargaining chip, but as an expendable object. A thing without use or worth. He didn't know what had intrigued him so much that night. She had been sickly and fragile, her skin almost translucent in the pale light, and yet there was a spark in her eye. Determination, maybe. Her voice had been strong, if quiet, and her smile, although sad, was still familiarly bright. The way she spoke and her body language had made it clear that she had been not as much afraid of him, despite her frail and vulnerable position, as she had been anxious about his response. She was clearly clever and resolute, despite her lack of personal experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to follow through the summoning ritual.

"I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, no money. O only have my soul. Please."

He couldn't remember a single instance where someone had begged him with the simple word please and he gave into it. And yet, he had accepted her plea - The whole of her soul, in exchange for a meager, single moment of ridiculous passion. The mere thought had repulsed him before: Body on body, blunt thumps of fleshes, debauched obscenities... it was something that had never held his interest. He felt like it was something unrefined and animalistic, something he had always regarded as unnecessary and obsolete. Until then.

Her body had responded so eagerly, so sensitive, so ready to his touches. It had been clear she hadn't lied about her virginity, and yet her eagerness, her fearlessness had surprised him. Acting solely based on instinct and the morals he was brought up with, no real experience of his own himself, he had tried to be as careful and gentle as he could, and somehow, her inexperience had made it... easier. She was not expecting anything in terms of skill, and thus he had to guide her through the process, allowing him to set the pace and giving him ample time to react to her reactions. Sweet gasps, subtle tremors, faint flushes - all of which had told him how she had felt, what had been pleasurable and what had been uncomfortable. He had been able to take his time and make sure she enjoyed herself. It had been fascinating and even... pleasurable for him, too.

Despite the obvious pain, she had kept her eyes open, watching his face intently as they connected. He had felt the warmth and the tension around him, and her little, breathy gasps had been such pleasant sounds that when she had finally found her release, it had triggered his own, foreign as it had been. She had sighed his name in pure bliss, and in that moment he had felt as powerful and as satisfied as the night he had gained his title as Radio Demon.

And when the deed had been done, the girl had smiled so serenely, he was sure he had rarely ever seen anything that could rival her in beauty.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably at that thought, trying to will away the memory and the sensation that the mere thought of her smile invoked.

It had taken a few minutes, but eventually he had collected himself and put his clothes back on. Her eyes had followed him, the spark back in them and even brighter than before, her smile not faltering even when her tired lids had drooped down, slowly lulling her to sleep. Alastor had stood there, in the small, plain hospice room, watching her for a while, a strange feeling in his chest. The deal hadn't been solidified by a handshake, her soul not yet firmly bound to him and the contract void if not officially sealed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Something had stopped him.

The memory of her face, pale and beautiful, smiling so peacefully even in her slumber, made the corners of his lips twitch. She would've made a magnificent addition to his collection of souls. And yet, and yet... He had decided then and there that her soul would find its way to him, eventually. But not through the proposed deal. So, he had left, the exchange unfulfilled, the pact broken, turning on the small radio she had let slip onto the floor just as he heard her caretaker returning to check on her.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.', he mused bitterly, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Alastor?"

Charlie's voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, muffled by the thick, wooden door of his room. She sounded worried, probably wondering why he had excused himself from the hotel's interactions more and more for the past weeks. He was about to ignore her, not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her, persistent thing that she was, but when her soft knock followed her call, his smile widened tightly and his eyes flashed red.

"Charlie, dear, I'm afraid I'm not available at the moment.", he called out, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

"Sorry, but...", the princess sounded hesitant, and he could hear her shuffle awkwardly outside. "It's just... There is someone in the lobby, wanting to speak to you. It seems... important."

He got up from his chair with an annoyed sigh and switched off the radio, straightened his clothes and smoothed out his hair and bow tie with one swipe. Whatever business matter was brought forward, Alastor didn't feel like discussing it. The smile he wore was razor sharp and dark, a result of his annoyance and brooding mood, and yet he couldn't bring himself to feign his cheery personality just quite yet. Maybe this mystery visitor would be a suitable punching bag to let off some of that steam.

When Alastor finally opened the door and walked down to the lobby next to a flustered looking Charlie, his breath hitched involuntarily and he froze mid-stride. Charlie stumbled at the sudden lack of motion next to her, the deafening static sound and the chime-like tuning of a radio startling her so much she flinched away from him.

"H-Hey Al!?", she called in shock, "Are you okay?"

He didn't move, didn't even react - his attention was solely focused on the figure standing at the front-desk, who, just a moment ago, had talked to Husker before turning around upon hearing him.

Hell kept her skin white and almost translucent in it's spite, but granted her soft, shimmering silvery fur in it's mercy. Her frame wasn't thin and frail anymore, she looked plush and healthy, soft curves where there had been nothing more than skin and bone before. Keeping almost all of her human features intact, the small, round ears protruding from her hair, the pink-tipped nose and the long and slender tail were definitely characteristics of a dormouse, their ends almost silver and soft-looking. Her eyes were of the same gentle color that he remembered, and when her lips spread into a sad, tender smile his breath was stolen away completely.

It was the same smile. The very one he hadn't been able to purge from his mind, and most likely never would.

"Alastor."

The sound of her voice, quiet and melodic as it had been weeks before, felt like an invisible touch that pulled the air out of him. Not enough to suffocate him, but he was still reeling none the less.

"So you finally succumbed, it seems..."

His usual bravado was absent, his voice lacked it's sharp, jovial tone, sounding more like he was actually talking. Charlie could do little more but watch with widened eyes, seemingly unable to fathom the scene right in front of her.

"What are you talking about, Alastor? How do you know...", the princess spoke carefully and uncertain, her eyes wandering from one demon to another, but she was quickly interrupted, not by him, but by...

"It's a long story better told another time, Miss Charlie.", she said with a genuine smile on her face, still not able to take her eyes off Alastor. She took a few tentative steps towards him, careful, but certain in her movement, a confidence about her that hadn't been there before. Her head tilted in an enigmatic way and she spoke again, this time solely directed at him.

"I'm truly sorry to impose. But I was hoping we could talk... privately."

Alastor nodded mutely, not able to think clearly, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back to tower over her once again. Husk seemed to notice his shift in composure, raising a brow when he passed him by on his way back behind the bar, noticing the strangely satisfied looking smile on Alastor's face that was as unnerving and frightening as always, but with a different tint that even Husk must've trouble placing guessing by the suspicious look that fell over the cat's face.

"Of course, my dear, my office will suffice. If you'll excuse us, Charlotte? We'll be only a short while."

He didn't wait for her response but took his guest by her arm and guided her past an astonished Husk and clearly confused Charlie, leading the girl down the hall and to his office, the air between them thick with something undefinable, and neither of them dared to speak until the heavy mahogany door fell shut, effectively cutting off all outside interference.

Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped closer towards him. The tips of his claws brushed against her fringe, following the curve of her soft ear, across the back of her delicate neck to pluck a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and running the silky fiber between two fingers and over the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips with a deep, pleased inhale.

She looked up at him, her smile shy but hopeful.

"You remember me.", she said with a chuckle, her voice a bit higher, her ears twitching and her tail swaying behind her, showing her emotions all too easily. Alastor nodded, not letting go of her hair just yet.

"How could I not, dear. It's not common for me to leave a contract unsettled, you know."

"I had a feeling that might've been the case, since it took me so long to find you.", she said quietly. "So, my soul..."

"... is still yours, yes."

She wasn't looking at him, directly. Her gaze went over his suit, to his hands and cane, then back to the floor.

"Why?", she asked, a hint of confusion and hurt in her voice, her silken hair slipping from his fingers.

"Why didn't you claim it? You had every right, after all. I offered, you agreed and..."

Alastor didn't speak, couldn't speak. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it. It felt... strange, and foreign, and not quite comfortable. But it was undeniably true, now - with her in front of him - clearer than any time in the last weeks in his chair, each night, in front of the fireplace.

He wanted her. Not just her soul. Her. So, he settled on silence and a half-truth, instead.

"It wasn't the right time, dear."

Her face turned to him, her eyes searching his. He felt exposed, like her eyes were piercing him.

"And now...?"

"That remains to be seen. Why are you here?", he countered, stepping back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

"I came to see you, because..." She swallowed hard, and Alastor watched her throat, the soft swell of her breasts under her modest blouse, the slight rise of her belly. "When I arrived in hell, I felt... weird. I thought it was because of all the changes, this new body and... generally being here. But it didn't go away, this.... feeling. I made friends with a lovely imp couple, they took me in after I fell. The wife, Millie, took me to a doctor because she got worried when I couldn't stop throwing up..."

Her face grew hot, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her ears folding back against her head.

"Alastor, I'm pregnant."

A loud bang rang through the hallway as Alastor dropped his cane and a deafening feedback noise filled the room. For the first time in what must have been decades, his face betrayed him completely, the smile ripping at the sewn edges as it dropped violently. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning.

"Impossible.", he breathed, the word almost getting stuck in his throat. The very notion was ridiculous, unheard of - clearly that must be a crude joke. Alastor started to laugh, though sounding not as amused and booming as he would've hoped, but more hysterical than anything else.

She stayed silent, looking at him with sad, but serious and almost pleading eyes as the truthfulness of her confession began to sink in and his laughter slowly died. He took a tentative step forward, a million questions running through his head, the sheer amount overwhelming his usually so precise mind.

"So, a month ago, it...", he stopped, feeling the corners of his mouth pull wider.

"...yes. The doctor told me there are only a handful similar cases like this known since hell was created... The circumstances are 'too specific' and it normally takes a vast amount of intimate interactions' between a hellbound sinner and a living, fertile human he said... Seems like you knocked me up with one round, buster." She wrung her hands, her smile forced and unsure. "Listen, Alastor... I know it sounds impossible. I mean, I couldn't believe it at first when he told me so I understand you can't, too... but I don't expect anything, I really don't. I just... I wanted to see you again, and-and you deserve to know, and..."

"Darling, hush.", Alastor interrupted, a sense of clarity taking hold of his chaotic mind. He had never felt a desire for a family, not in his lifetime nor in his death. Partners were liabilities and a distraction, relationships nuisances if they strayed beyond the borders of business or at the very most friendly aquaintances. He had no need for things like these in the past, looking down on people desperate to seek out partners, claiming to be lonely when in truth they were just weak or simply starving for a touch of the 'opposite sex' to make up for their own inadequacy.

Now, faced with the reality of fatherhood in a matter of minutes and the prospect of his life being bound to another - one who, undoubtedly, bore his child, no less - Alastor would be lying if he had claimed a part of him didn't absolutely reel at the prospect. A responsibility greater than his own had just fallen into his lap - a vulnerability he never asked for and certainly didn't expect.

But.

A part of him would come into the world, no matter whether it would look human, or demonic like him, or whatever strange combination of them both: This child would be proof of him. Him, not anyone else. There would be a person dependent on him for guidance and protection, a legacy he would be allowed to leave, a lineage that could one day claim that he, Alastor, had been the founding cause. His legacy. His blood and his seed had created another being against all rules and logic, an offspring, maybe a girl, maybe it would resemble him, or her, or even... his mother.

Despite the incredulity and the sheer panic the revelation brought, the longer he looked at the tiny dormouse in front of him, the more he realized how similar her traits were to his own mother's. Soft, but determined. Sad, but brave. Young but aged.

No, this hadn't been just some fleeting fling - Alastor had to believe in fate, given what she told him. There had been a reason why he didn't seal the deal that night. Why he had agreed to her request so easily. The more Alastor thought about the potential of a shared offspring, along with a loyal partner on his side, about the what-ifs and could-bes, the more appealing and pleasant the future appeared. She was carrying a being he created, one that had his essence – All the more stronger his grin widened, stretching so far it caused his cheeks to ache, but his blooming glee knew no bounds. He saw, to his own surprise, not a weakness or vulnerability.

But his greatest achievement.

With a laugh, this time sincere and booming and loud instead of hysterical, he picked her up on her waist, knocking the air out of her in a gasp, and swung her around several times.

"O-oh! Oh my goodness!", she stuttered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Alastor, calm down!"

"Oh, no no no, I simply can't! Dear, do you have any idea what a marvel you have wrought!?", he exclaimed in delight, setting her back down and bringing both hands up to her cheeks. "We've created a magnificent abomination!"

Her head shook as she chuckled, still nervous but with an edge of relief in her voice. "That's certainly one way of saying it. But... are... are you saying that... you are okay with it? That you..."

"What, dear?", he cooed, her big eyes shining hopefully as her ears twitched curiously. His chest swelled with affection, and he gently squeezed her cheeks between his hands.

"Does a daddy on your side scare you, darling?"

"N-No-oh."

The title invoked a peculiar reaction, and he made a mental note to use it again soon enough, as her cheeks flushed in a dusty rose. Alastor felt an unfamiliar and somehow primal pleasure at the sight of it, a surge of happiness in his chest, the warmth of it nearly too much. He pulled her face against his, smothering her with a kiss. He wasn't familiar with such embraces, but she felt like she was specifically molded to fit perfectly into him, her ears flicking with every beat of her racing heart.

There were tears welling in her beautiful eyes, and as he kissed her cheeks and brushed them away with his thumbs. Oh yes, Alastor was filled with a new kind of giddy excitement.

"Come on, dear, let's not waste time to spread the good news!", he exclaimed, unable to reign his euphoric mood, and before she could comment on his actions, he reached out and lifted her over his shoulder in one fluid movement, ignoring her startled squawk. The look of utter bewilderment on her face almost made him break out into more laughter, but he was already out the door, ready to take his child's mother, who was, without a doubt in his mind, bound to him forever with a force much stronger than any deal he could've made, downstairs to tell the news to his fellow friends, who would have no choice but to learn what a truly dangerous deal looked like.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #charlie morningstar #hazbin husk #habin hotel #soft alastor #hazzbin pregnancy #quickfic

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babystrcandy · 1 year

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the lucky one: series masterlist

summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut status: on going notes/warnings: the first chapter is more of a prologue that leads into the rest of the fic, which also means it's the most light-hearted of the chapters. both characters (reader and jungkook) go through a lot, so this fic deals with topics that aren't to be taken lightly. topics discussed would be: alcoholism, suicidal ideation, and mental illness (anxiety, depression), so please tread lightly. please do not read if these topics are triggering. your mental health is important, so please take care of yourselves. <3

masterlist key: s - smut a - angst f - fluff

chapter one: little freak, jezebel - 20.2K (s, a) -> you and jungkook have been forced to be friends since birth. keyword: forced. chapter two: good night, belladonna - 28.1K (s, a) -> after three years of no contact, a career-changing injury, and one chance encounter of the two of you joining the same professional badminton team, jeon jungkook's suddenly your shadow again. chapter three: daisy, give me your answer do - 27.1K (s, a, f) -> the trials and tribulations of agreeing to be jeon jungkook's doubles partner hit you all at once. chapter four: build me up, buttercup - 30.2K (s, a, f) -> atlas wasn’t a god; he was just a man . . . and jeon jungkook could only bear so much. chapter four and a half: interlude - 2.9K (f) -> when jungkook was little, he used to wish on shooting stars that he'd hear a bell when he met his soulmate. chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue - 27.7K (s, a, f) -> you and jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. it was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people. chapter six: good morning, morning glory - coming soon -> like a hook in an eye, jeon jungkook fit into you. maybe he always had.

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entitled-fangirl · 8 months

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No pajama party for you, Mr. Graham.

Will Graham x fiancee! fem! reader

Summary: Will gets his fiancee drug along into his twisted games with Hannibal, leading to her now restrained body in the chair across from him at Mason Verger's dining room table.

Words: 1,513

Warnings: Mason is gross. Inappropriate comments about the reader from Mason.

Genre: angst?

Author's note: slightly boring, but I like it. Also, I don't own pretty much any of this, but my insertion of Y/N and some added lines. And not my GIF. Enjoy :)

Masterlist

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Will’s greatest fear was coming true.

Here she was, his fiancee, tied up in the chair across from him. Her hair was seemingly done and her outfit was a decently revealing dress. Will lets out a deep breath as if holding himself in. He sneered at Mason, who sat in his chair at the head of the table happily.

“Well, if Jezebel was right with the risen Jesus, the Riz would have provided her with a new face, as His has provided mine.”

Will’s eyes slowly moved over to look at Mason in confusion. Mason simply stared back at him, raising his eyebrows as if mocking him. Mason takes his silence as a sign to continue.

“The transplants surgery is extremely skillful, which is why Cordell here will be performing the face-off.”

As he says so, Cordell walks into the room with another plate of food, backing down to set it on the table, then swiftly standing back up. He turns and stares at Will with a happy expression, before his voice utters a simple, “hello,” as if we was talking to a child. And with that, he disappears into a back room.

Y/N's eyes flicker between Hannibal, who sits at the foot of the table, and Will as if she’s trying to read their feelings, but like most things with Hannibal, he is unreadable. In fact, as of now, he seems rather happy. She tries to not let expressions show.

“You boys remind me of that German cannibal who advertised for a friend and then ate him, and his penis before he died,” Mason said. Hannibal gives a grin at this as he continues to eat his food. “Tragedy being, the penis was overcooked. Go to all that trouble to eat a friend, and you overcook his penis!” Y/N at this point has a ruddy shade on her cheeks as she avoids eye contact with everyone. “They ate it anyway. They had to, they committed. But they didn’t enjoy it.”

Hannibal keeps a cheeky smile on his face throughout Mason’s entire monologue. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the doctor was thinking. Hannibal was often like this. Sometimes, that look could mean that he finds your company rather enjoyable, and other times he was wondering how you would taste over a side of rice. Perhaps now, he was thinking both.

Will takes this time to look around the room and the table. A cooked pig sat at the center of the table, with various sides surrounding it. His eyes flicker up to his fiancee’s, but she’s looking at Hannibal with a confused expression. He wished he could get out of his restraints to let her go. God, she deserved anything but this. Two years of dating and this is what she gets. And Will has no idea why Mason wants her.

“I’m committed to enjoying every bit of you,” Mason continued as he stared harshly at Lecter.

Will interrupts him, a tinge of anger and confusion in his tone, “You’re going to eat him… with my face?” He now stares at Mason, not knowing if he wants the answer.

Mason looked to Will, his eyes squinting, and his voice strong. “Yes. I got a taste for it after you two had me eat my nose.” Will looked down, contemplating the disfigured man’s words. He knew he was getting into the wrong crowd, but now, not only was he in danger, but he brought his beautiful girl into it as well, and for that, he couldn’t forgive himself. He also couldn’t help but blame Hannibal, but now was not the time to be pointing fingers.

Mason continued, his eyes staring at Y/N, “and then I’ll eat her…” Y/N's head perks up to look at him in fear. He cheekily raises his eyebrows, “…in a different way, of course.” His gaze wanders up and down her body like a hungry lion looks at its prey.

She looks down at the table, her cheeks a consistent shade of red throughout this entire dinner. But Will had heard too much, in his opinion. Of course, that's what he wants with her. It seems that the expression, 'you are what you eat,' is proving itself to Will now because he's looking at the pig on the table and the man sitting at the head of it. He pulled on his restraints harshly, his voice almost a growl, “Don’t fucking-"

Hannibal immediately cuts in, “You must be terribly proud that you could bring this off.” He eats his food as if he’s not in a dangerous situation with a man that wants to eat him, kill his friend, and mate with his friend’s fiancee. “It’s dangerous to get exactly what you want.” He looks up to meet Mason’s eyes, a confident glow in them, “What will you do after you’ve eaten me?”

Will stares at the table, his eyes slowly moving up towards Mason again. His voice was fairly confident and steady, but inside his blood had begun to boil. “You could wreck some foster homes and torment some children.”

Mason is now tormenting Will, “No, I’ll drink martinis made with tears.”

“But where, Mason, would the hard-core fun come from?” Hannibal chimed in. He didn’t like people messing with things that were his, such as Will and Y/N. But, of course, he would never let that show.

Mason clicks his tongue at him. “It’s foolish to dilute such an ecstatic time as this with fears about the future,” he said as his eyes wandered back to Y/N's face. She was a pretty little thing, after all.

He smiles as much as his disfigured face allows him to at the sight of Y/N's fears. "Don't worry, girl. It'll be just like how it is now. Will's face will be the only one you'll see when making love. It's as if nothing will change."

Her face turns to one of disgust. Her voice finally chirps up quietly, though her eyes remain on the table, "I'd rather die."

Mason gives a quiet chuckle, "People will die today, but none of them are you, sweetie." He quickly scans the room before his gaze settles on Will. “Uh, Cordell, Mr. Graham is looking very dry. A little moisturizer, please.” Cordell nods and quickly leaves the room.

Will stares at the table with multiple emotions going through him. Both Y/N and Hannibal know that look. They have seen it consistently. It usually means he’s going to do something rash, if he can come up with the plan for it. His eyes are beyond an angry glare as if he could murder someone in cold blood with a glance. If that were so, the fork on the table would be a puddle of melted metal.

The doctor pretends to take no notice, still seemingly enjoying himself. “I’m curious- what will be the first cuts of me you’ll serve?”

Cordell interrupts. “The first course, of course, will be your hands and feet,” he says as a matter of fact. Y/N feels a shiver go down her spine at his words, worried for the psychiatrist. He continues, “sizzling on a Promethean barbecue.” Will looks up in concern, staring at the two as Cordell describes how he’ll cook the man. “The coal is white and very hard. It makes a clear ringing sound when struck.”

Y/N can’t recall a time she’s seen Lecter look so pleased. His gaze shifts back to Mason with a smile- a real smile, “You’ve thought of everything.”

Mason hums, “And after that, we’ll have a little pajama party, you and I. You can be in shorties by then.” At this point, Cordell is approaching Will with the moisturizer. “Cordell is going to keep you alive for a very long time.”

Cordell bends down slightly to study Will’s face before dipping his finger in the small tin of moisturizer. As if you’d miss it in a blink, Will moves his head toward Cordell’s face, biting into his cheek harshly. The cook lets out a scream of pain, and Hannibal lazily looks over, unfazed. Y/N grips the arms of her chair tightly, letting out a small shriek at the sight. The tin of moisturizer is dropped on the ground and Cordell steps back, letting out grunts as he holds a hand over the bleeding hole in his face. Will makes a disgusted look on his face and spits the chunk out on the table, blood now staining the tablecloth and Will’s face. He then leans back, slightly pleased with his handiwork. Mason looks at him with no emotion.

“Well, no pajama party for you, Mr. Graham.” Will takes long deep breaths. He looks up to see Y/N's horrified expression, then turns slightly to look at Hannibal, who is smiling proudly at him. “We’re gonna feed you to the pigs as soon as Cordell has removed your face- in a much more civilized fashion than you just tried to remove his.”

He looked back to Y/N, realizing he may have fucked up.

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I may continue with the storyline :)

#will graham x reader #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #Will graham imagines #hannibal nbc x reader #will graham imagine #will graham fanfiction

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yandere-writer-momo · 11 months

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Yandere Short Stories:

Pinky Promise

Yandere Lesbian Knight x Afab! Childhood Friend Reader x Yandere Cross Dressing Noble (Genderfluid)

“Today we have a new orphan joining us.” The director pushed a young girl with (hair length and color) hair forward, the young girl shyly glanced at the other orphans. She was awfully small compared to the other kids and dainty like a doll. “This is (your first name). Play nicely.”

(Your name) shyly glanced around at the other kids, a young girl with bright red hair stuck out to her the most. The large girl played with a stick in the corner of the room by herself. (Your name) slowly approached the girl.

“H-hello.” (Your name) bowed her head when the red head snapped her head to look at her. The young girl looked much like a wounded animal than a nine year old, which only made (your name) even more nervous. “I-I’m (your first name), what’s your name?”

The crimson haired girl simply sat still, not muttering a single word while her cinnamon colored eyes glanced (your name) up and down. A scoff then left her lips.

“Leave me alone.” (Your name) nearly cried when the red head glared at her. “I don’t need friends.”

Another girl toddled over to (your name) and took her hand. “That’s Marisa. She’s mean. But you can come play with us! I’m Jezebel!”

(Your name) glanced back at Marisa who sat hunched over at her spot in the corner. She looked so lonely…

“You shouldn’t hang out with Marisa, (your name).” Jezebel whispered to the (hair color) girl. “She’s bad luck.”

For the last few weeks, (your name) tried to get closer to the red haired girl. But to no avail. She was met with hostility and cruel insults. Marisa was just like a wounded animal… one that had been cornered and beaten for so long that it didn’t know how to handle affection.

“Bad luck?” (Your name) asked softly, she turned to glance at the messy crimson haired girl. Her body hunched over in the corner as she hugged herself close.

“She has blood red hair. She has impure blood.”

“Impure blood?” (Your name) tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow in confusion. What on earth did that mean?

“Yes… it means she has monster blood.” Jezebel hissed, her body trembled when Marisa turned to glance their way. “She’ll grow up and become a monster.”

(Your name) frowned and glanced over at Marisa. Her heart clenched at how miserable she looked. How long had she been alone?

“I don’t think she’s a monster.” (Your name) softly whispered before she stood up. The young girl placed a finger on her chin. “Thanks for your concern, Jezebel but I think I’ll take my chances. If she tears me apart then you’re right. But if not, you’ll have to apologize.”

(Your name) even more determined to befriend the crimson haired girl… but how?

Marisa furrowed her brow when (your name) offered to share her food with her. This was new. She was suspicious of the new orphan. (Your name) was stupidly trusting of people and naive. Marisa hated it. Marisa hated how the other girl kept trying to get close to her… did (your name) know she was a monster?

“I thought I told you to leave me alone.” Marisa huffed, the red head crossed her arms over her chest. Her messy red waves covered her cinnamon eyes a bit from the movement. “You probably have your germs all over that bread anyways.”

(Your name) frowned but placed the half loaf beside Marisa’s plate. Her expression hopeful.

“You just always sit alone…” (your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, her body shook a bit under Marisa’s intense gaze. “I want to sit with you.”

Marisa rolled her eyes, the red head snatched the stale bread and took a bite. Her eyes cautiously glance over the smaller girl. (Your name) couldn’t hurt her even if she tried. She was so small, her wrist would probably snap if she tried to hit Marisa.

(Your name) was like a lost, little lamb that approached a wolf. Didn’t she know how dangerous the world was? How people could harm her or have ulterior motives? How could someone be so naive?

“Whatever.” Marisa stiffened when (your name) scooted next to her, her arms wrapped around Marisa in a hug. “Hey?! What are you doing, weirdo?!”

“Well, I’m hugging my friend.” (Your name) giggled with a bright smile. Marisa felt her heart stop for a minute, an unfamiliar feeling washing over her. Was this magic?

“You’re weird.” Marisa huffed, a small blush on her face. Maybe she’d let (your name) stick around… maybe.

The two girls were inseparable. Wherever Marisa was, (your name) was. At first it irritated the crimson haired girl. Why on earth did (your name) have to be so persistent about being by her side? Yet there was a part of her that adored it.

Marisa loved that (your name) would cry when she wasn’t there. That (your name) depended on her company. It made Marisa feel wanted for once…

And it’s why Marisa interfered whenever someone was interested in adopting (your name). She didn’t want to lose her only friend… her family.

Marisa would throw bugs from the trees on potential adopters and play nasty pranks on them. She’d do anything to keep (your name) by her side.

“Mari?” (Your name) mumbled from their shared bed, her little body snuggled against the red haired girl’s body. “Are you having nightmares?”

Marisa felt herself melt under (your name)’s concerned expression. The red haired girl curled into (your name)’s body, her arms wrapped around the smaller girls in a comforting manner. Yes… this felt right, this was right.

“I was just thinking was all.” Marisa whispered, her hands moved to throw the blanket over (your name) and her head to hide their secret pact. “Can you promise me something?”

(Your name) eagerly nodded her head. Her eyes focused on Marisa’s. “Yes, of course.”

“Stay with me forever.” Marisa whispered from under the white sheet. Her cinnamon eyes full of seriousness. “Pink promise me.”

(Your name) nodded her head and took Marisa’s pinky in hers. “Pinky promise.”

The two girls laid under the sheets in a mess of limbs. It wasn’t just a promise to Marisa… it was a swear.

One day, an elderly gentleman came to the orphanage. One that took great interest in (your name). To the point even Marisa’s tactics to get him to change his mind wouldn’t work. She had overheard the man talk about (your name)‘s pure mana. How lucky was her friend to be gifted in magic while she had no skills…

The elderly man frowned at how distraught the red haired girl was when she realized her friend was going to be adopted. The elder held out a hand to the sniffling girl.

“Why don’t you come with us?” He asked in a soft voice. “You just want to be with your friend, don’t you?”

Marisa stared at the old man with wide eyes. His salt colored facial hair nearly concealed his whole face but he had kind eyes… eyes that were similar to (your name)‘s.

“Y-you’d adopt me too?”

“Well of course. I’d hate to separate someone who has worked so hard to be beside their friend.” The old man smiled at Marisa. “My name is Orick. I’m a herbalist.”

“My name is Marisa Guerra… and I’m (your name)‘s best friend.”

Orik took the red head girl’s hand and lead her over to (your name) who smiled brightly at Marisa. It seemed the two of them would continue to be together.

The two girls ran towards each other and hugged. Orik smiled at the two. This time he’d ensure (your name)‘s safety… he wouldn’t fail her family twice.

And Marisa would be the perfect fit for her protector.

(Your name) and Marisa giggled as they sat side by side in a lavender field. The violet flowers tangled between their small hands while they wove flower crowns for one another.

“Mari, you suck at this.” The smaller girl giggled at her friend’s expense. The red haired girl flushed a bright pink in the face from how distorted her crown was.

“I’m doing my best! Not my fault my hands aren’t as dainty as yours.” Marissa grumbled, the red head snuck glances here and there towards the smaller girl. “You’re just more graceful than me, (your name).”

Marisa memorized the details on (your name)’s face, she always found herself staring at her best friend. Was it strange that her heart beat so wildly in her chest whenever they were together? Marisa didn’t quite understand the feelings that bloomed in her for the sweet (hair color) girl

“Well I made you one, see?” (Your name) gently placed the lavender flower crown on Marisa’s head. (Your name) gave her best friend a bright smile. “You look so pretty in purple.”

Marisa blushed, the young red head brushed a crimson wave out of her face. She swore her heart would explode from the simple compliment.

“Not nearly as pretty as you. I don’t think there’s anyone as pretty as you.”

Even as a child, Marisa meant exactly what she said. (Your name) was the prettiest girl Marisa had ever seen and the only one she had eyes for.

“You’re so silly, Mari. You act like I’m some kind of princess!” (Your name) squealed when Marisa grabbed her hands and began to press kisses on them. “Mari!”

“To me, you are the most beautiful princess.” Marisa smiled as she began to press more kisses to (your name)’s hands. “And I’m your loyal knight.”

“But we’re Orik’s apprentices.”

The two girls giggled together, their hands linked while they admired the sunset together.

“Of course you little peasants always stick together.” A young noble girl stuck her nose up at (your name) and Marisa while the duo played together in the streets from the window in her fancy blue carriage. The golden family crest of the Phoenix showed off which family she belonged to, Marquis Golding.

The marchioness’s long golden curls were pulled back behind her head in a half braid while the rest spilled out over her shoulders. “Why don’t you two play elsewhere?”

“Oh hello, Marchioness Golding.” (Your name) greeted the blonde with a smile, which threw the blonde off. The blonde glanced away, a pinkish tint to her ears. “We were close to the street, weren’t we? Thanks for looking out-“

“(Your name), she’s making fun of us.” Marisa softly pointed out, the redhead glared at the haughty blonde. She didn’t understand why the blonde insisted on bothering with them. “We’ll go elsewhere, Marchioness Golding.”

Marissa rose up to her feet and took (your name)‘s hands in hers. The marchioness turned red in the face from the sight. It wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair that they were able to live freely while she was trapped to live the life of a noble.

Cressida could only watch as the two left. Her heart clenched when (your name) waved goodbye to her before Marissa tugged her away.

Was it wrong for Cressida to want (your name)? The girl was oddly sophisticated for a mere peasant… it made Cressida curious.

Was (your name) hiding something just like her?

Not to mention how (your name)’s features were eerily similar to a portrait she’s seen once… but where had Cressida last seen it?

Orik smiled at (your name) who fretted ow r an injured bird. Tears in her eyes, her heart ached for the bird that was missing a part of its wing.

“Now, (your name). With your affinity for healing magic, you can heal things.” Orik softly told the young girl. His wrinkled hands guided hers over the bird. “But you cannot heal what is no longer there.”

“What do you mean, master?”

“Wounds can be closed but they may leave scars.” Orik softly told her, the old wizard assisted her in healing the injured bird. “It’s flight feathers will have to grow back once it molts but you were able to reattach the bones. You have limits, my dear.”

(Your name) smiled at Orik’s teachings. The elder always took time to teach her about healing magic and herbalism.

“I sense you’ll become a great healer one day.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Mari, you can’t keep stealing.” (Your name) chided her friend, the young adult scoffed in response.

The years have turned the two of them into adults and Marisa has been on a rebellious streak as of late. The red haired woman now towered over her friend and (your name) was sure Marisa was almost seven feet tall.

“We have to survive too. Orik doesn’t have much money despite once being the grand wizard.” Marisa grumbled as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest. “The royals don’t care about orphans like us. We could starve for all they care.”

“But what if they catch you? You could get hurt…”

“I can’t keep up with your skills in magic. You’re going to be a great healer one day and I’m just me… Orik’s ways don’t suit me.” Marisa sighed, the large teen bent down to sit beside (your name) on the grassy hill. “I’m not smart like you…”

“But I’m sure you could become a knight. Or maybe even a monster hunter. You’re super strong!” (Your name) smiled at her friend, which made Marisa sigh. The redhead shoved the loaf of bread into (your name)’s hand.

“Eat your bread. At least make my efforts worth it. I doubt we’ll eat anything this good until we’re done learning from Orik.” Marisa huffed. She draped her arm over (your name)‘s shoulder to pull her closer.

The two women admired the city lights from below. (Your name)’s eyes sparkle in wonder from how magic had made the lights below shine so brightly.

“It’s such a beautiful sight, isn’t it?”

Cinnamon colored eyes were directed at (your name), a softness in them that was only reserved for the young woman in front of her. “Yes it is…”

Marisa rested her head on (your name)‘s, her feelings once more bubbled to the surface like boiling soup. Marisa knew exactly what she felt for the other girl… it was just wondering if (your name) returned even a fraction of what she felt. If they had a chance to be something more than friends…

Yet it wasn’t something Marisa wanted to chance. She’d rather die than lose her best friend, no… her reason to live.

In this sick world, her only solace was (your name) and Marisa would rather chop her own foot off with a dull butter knife than let anything happen to the small girl.

“(Your name)?”

“Yes?”

“I’d kill for you.” (Your name) giggled at her friend’s words, the smaller girl not taking what the other woman said seriously. Kill for her? How absurd.

“Well, I hope you never have to. I’d hate for you to end up in prison or even on death row.”

Marisa pressed herself further into (your name), a sad smile on her face. She’d do anything for (your name). Anything.

“(Your name)?” (Your name) froze when a certain marchioness made her way towards her. Her pale pink skirts held in her hands as she barged into (your name)‘s study.

Ever since they became teenagers, Cressida Golding bothered her more and more. But rather than her weak attempts at bullying in childhood, Cressida made an attempt to befriend (your name). The golden haired girls cheeks flushed whenever she was around the (hair color) girl and her palms would be sweaty.

Yet Cressida made no move to befriend Marisa, only (your name).

“Would you like to go to a salon with me? I could buy you a dress…” Cressida fiddled with her fingers, her cerulean eyes anxiously glanced at (your name). “Or you could probably fit into some of my old ones… I’ve been growing a lot as of late.”

“That’s okay, marchioness Golding. Thank you-“

“It’s just Cressida!” Cressida rasped out, her body trembled in anxiousness. “And I insist. Please?”

“But I’m just a peasant…” (your name) softly whispered, but Cressida waved her off.

“No, you’re not! You’re nothing like that red head or the others!” Cressida put her hands over her mouth at her outburst. She hadn’t meant to be so loud and excitable. “I actually found out something rather interesting about you.”

“What do you mean, Cressida?” Cressida took (your name)’s hands in her clammy ones. A big smile on her face.

“I’ll tell you my findings if you come to the salon I’m hosting!”

(Your name) thought about it for a moment before she sighed. She knew Cressida wouldn’t accept no as an answer. The golden haired girl was quite spoiled after all…

“Okay… I’ll come.” Cressida squealed and pulled (your name) in for a hug. Her cerulean eyes lit up like stars.

“I swear you won’t be disappointed, darling!” The blonde then took off with a skip in her step.

(Your name) sighed and glanced at her books that laid strewn out all over her desk. Now where did she leave off?

A scream escaped Marisa’s mouth when a guard slammed their foot into her ribcage in a dark alleyway. Her plunders strewn all over the alleyway’s floor. Marisa had simply wanted to gift (your name) something nice, it wasn’t even something super expensive. It was just a rose quartz tied together with twine.

A twisted smirk crawled on the guard’s face at her anguished expression.

“Well look who I finally caught! The street rat that my mistress hates.” His hand tangled in Marisa’s short red hair and yanked her head up. “You’re not so tough now, are ya?”

Marisa vehemently glared at the guard before she launched a wad of spit on his dirty face. The guard threw her to the ground in anger his shirt ripped from the grip she had on him, his hand wiped the spit off his face. The fabric crest of the family he served was clutched tightly in her fist.

“You’ll pay for that.” Marisa’s eyes widened when the guard drew his sword, the metal menacingly glinted under the streetlights.

A scream rung throughout the alleyway and then silence.

(Your name) frantically ran down the streets. Her head turned every which way in hopes of finding Marisa. Marisa wasn’t home on time and she was never late…

(Your name) clutched her cloak tightly to her body in an attempt to comfort herself. She needed to find her friend…

“Marissa?” (Your name) called out to no avail. And that’s when she saw it… a crumbled body of a certain red head and a pool of blood.

A scream that would make anyone weep at the strangled sound escaped (your name)’s chest as she launched herself beside her friend. Her small hands rolled over Marisa’s body to see where the wound was… only for horror to crawl down (your name)’s spine.

The entire left side of Marisa’s face was completely mutilated with cute. The blood seemed never ending while the skin of her left cheek no longer concealed her teeth. And her tongue was cut up as well.

“W-who did this to you?” (Your name) wept as she did her best to use her magic to heal her friend. “Who hurt you?”

Her tears felt never ending as she did her best to heal what she could. This half of her friend’s face would more likely be permanently disfigured from this ordeal no matter how good of a healer (your name) was. There just wasn’t enough left of her face to completely heal it.

“Mari… oh Mari.” (Your name) sobbed as she held Mari’s body close to her. Marisa was so cold and barely breathing… but she was alive. Thank god… “I’m so sorry, Mari.”

(Your name) held Marisa close to her, a certain family crest caught (your name)’s eye. The golden Phoenix mocked her.

“Marquis Golding…”

Cressida held her sore cheek in shock when (your name) struck her. The smaller woman’s face red with rage, a crumbled family crest was balled up in her fist.

“You witch!” (Your name) hissed, the crest suddenly thrown at Cressida who sat dumbstruck on the floor. “How dare you have one of your guards attack Marisa… how dare you!”

“(Y-your name)? What do you mean?” Cressida cried, her eyes filled with tears. Not out of guilt, but out of fear. Fear of (your name) leaving her behind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Don’t pretend you don’t! Your guard hurt Marisa and now… she’ll never be able to live a normal life!” (Your name) felt a sob rack through her body, her hands tightly clutched her chest. “How could you-“

Creature rose up from the floor and ran towards (your name) until she fell to her knees in front of the young woman. Her hands tightly clutched (your name)’s.

“I didn’t order him to… I wouldn’t do that.” Cressida began to sob. “I know you care about her… I wouldn’t do that.”

(Your name) froze when Cressida began to bawl. Fat tears rolled down her pale cheeks as she tightly clutched the skirt of (your name)’s linen dress like a lifeline.

“Please don’t abandon me! I swear I didn’t order it! I swear! I swear!” Cressida buried her face in (your name)’s skirt, her tears and snot wet the fabric. “I wouldn’t hurt you!”

“It’s okay, Cressida. I’m sorry for letting my anger get the best of me.” (Your name) held Cressida’s face in her palms. Guilt washed over her at the welt on Cressida’s face. “I shouldn’t have hurt you-“

“Don’t apologize! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t know! I’m sorry!” Cressida nuzzled her face in (your name)’s soft palms with a sigh. “You’re allowed to be upset! But I’ll take care of it all! Just for you!”

(Your name) furrowed her brow at the almost euphoric look in Cressida’s teary cerulean eyes. There was something incredibly off about the golden haired woman… but who was she to judge?

“Okay, Cressida… I believe you.” (Your name) was nearly launched back when Cressida lunged forward to hug her,

“Thank you! Thank you! I promise I’ll fix everything. Just leave it all to me.” Cressida buried her face in the crook of (your name)’s neck.

If only (your name) could see the demented smile on Cressida’s face then she’d know of the danger she was in…

The portly guard was thrown into a dungeon. His eyes wide in horror when he saw the young marchioness in the middle of the cell. The other guards quickly locked the door and left the guard alone with the young woman.

“M-my lady?! Have I offended you in some way?” The guard felt his blood run cold when a deep chuckle escaped Cressida’s lips.

“You know it’s my lord in private.” The guard bowed his head when he heard bones begin to snap. The guard shivered in pure fear when he felt an icy glare on him. Oh god… he hadn’t mean to upset him.

“I’m sorry my lord-“ The guard’s head was suddenly pulled up by the thin strands of his hair. A hauntingly beautiful man now stood before him in place of the marchioness. His cerulean blue eyes cold and unforgiving like the sea.

“Do you know what you’ve almost cost me?” The young man angrily hissed.

“N-no, my lord-“ the guard’s face was suddenly slammed into the stone floor. A loud, audible crunch rung throughout the empty dungeon.

“The throne! I need (your name) for the throne!” The guard’s head was slammed over and over into the ground as the young man had a tantrum. “My beautiful, perfect darling is the lost Duchess of (last name)! If I marry her, an illegitimate child like me could become the crown prince! And you almost screwed it all up because you sliced up her friend’s face!”

The guard’s face was practically hamburger meet from how mashed it was. A few of the his teeth now missing as he choked on his blood. The golden haired man sighed before dropping the guard to the ground.

“I just got so lucky my darling is so wonderful and understanding… she even apologized to me after she struck me.” The delusional man suddenly held his body to imitate a hug. “I am so lucky to have stumbled upon her… don’t you think we’ll be beautiful together?”

The guard could only gurgle and gasp, the portly man struggled to breathe. The blonde sighed in frustration. “An imbecile like you could never understand our love… but she said she’d let me handle it! So we’re not quite done yet, mister guard.”

The guard was then dragged to be chained to the floor. The young man smiled down at the disoriented guard, his haunting beauty similar to an angel of death.

The man then snapped his fingers to alert his butler to come over with a cage full of rats. The top of the cage held a metal bowl at the top and a removable tray at the bottom,

“Prince Chrysanthos. I really do think you’ve outdone yourself.” The butler sighed before he placed the metal cage atop of the guard’s stomach and pulled out the tray so that the rats were now had no metal bottom. Yet they couldn’t escape.

“You flatter me, Gerald. I simply wish to be a strict ruler who would do anything for his beloved. My enemies must know not to mess with me or her.” Chrysanthos smiled at Gerald who nodded. The salt and pepper haired man walked over to a small bowl filled with hot coals.

“You’re doing a fantastic job, sir.” The butler handed Chrysanthos the bucket. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Of course.” Chrysanthos then dumped the hot coals into the bowl atop of the cage. “This is what you get for upsetting my love. Your death will be slow and agonizing as the rats claw through your body to escape the heat.”

The guard began to loudly scream when he felt the rats scratch and bite at his skin.

Gerald glanced over at the insane blonde before him. Not a doubt in his mind that Crysanthos was a demon despite his angelic appearance.

“Do you wish to watch, sir? Or do you want to buy a dress for you darling?”

The butler remaind stoic when Chrysantho’s mood did a complete 180 degree turn. A bright smile on his angelic features.

“I would love to. Do you think she’d look beautiful in gold? Or should I perhaps dress her in lighter colors until the engagement?” Chrysanthos sighed dreamily. “My beautiful darling would look good in anything… I can’t wait to see her at my salon.”

The butler nodded as the two men left the guard behind to suffer his ill fate.

Chrysanthos babbled the whole way out. Gerald just didn’t understand what it was about that girl that drove the prince so mad.

(Your name) laid beside Marisa. Her arms wrapped around her friend as Orik frowned at her.

“She should wake up soon, my dear. You’ve been up for three days now… you can’t let yourself fall apart too.” Orik expressed his worry for his adopted daughter.

“I just want to be here when she wakes up.” (Your name) whispered softly, her hands stroked Marisa’s scarred face. “I want her to know I’m here… that I’ll always be here.”

Orik sighed but he understood her pain. “I won’t stop you but why don’t you just lay beside her?”

Orik snapped his fingers, a blanket now magically placed around her shoulders. The old man wrapped the blanket snuggly around (your name)’s body.

The young woman rested her body beside Marisa’s. The two women curled into one another.

As the young woman finally fell into the clutches of sleep, she failed to notice Marisa was now awake. Her cinnamon eyes softened at the eye bags and tear stained face of her friend.

Marisa struggled to speak, her throat felt so dry… Marisa went to sit up, her cinnamon colored eyes wide in horror at her reflection. Her whole body trembled at the hideous scars on her face. Oh god… it wasn’t a nightmare.

Marisa’s fingers traced over the ugly lines of scars on the left side of her face. Tears fell from her eyes as reality washed over her. She was ugly now…

“She did her best to heal what was left of your face.” Orik softly told Marisa from the door way. “I think she did an amazing job from what she said was left of you.”

Marisa glanced down at (your name) who laid curled up beside her. Her small hands tightly clutched Marisa’s shirt.

“Marisa. I have been quite lenient toward your rebellious behavior but I think it’s time you start to do something with you life.” Orik told the young woman, the elderly man made his way over. “I have a friend in the north who could train you in the way of the sword.”

“But I… I can’t leave (your name) behind. Especially with that stupid marchioness running about.”

“Who said I wouldn’t send the both of you?” Orik softly asked. “I may be old, but I’m willing to relocate to get away from that noble… they terrify me.”

Marisa paused, the muscular teen cast a glance at the sleeping (your name). A sunkissed finger hesitantly brushed a stray strand of hair out of (your name)’s face.

“If she wants to… we’ll move.”

“Excellent. Let me know what she says when she wakes up.” Orik smiled at the two young women. “We can leave in a week’s time at the earliest.”

Marisa glanced down at (your name) who clutched onto her body like a koala bear. A soft smile graced her lips as she leaned down to press a kiss on (your name)’s forehead.

“Thank you… I owe you my life once again.” Marisa pressed her forehead against (your name)’s while her arms snaked around (your name)’s body. “You’re always saving me when I’m supposed to be protecting you… I swear I’ll become stronger and I’ll be able to provide us a better life.”

Marisa laid beside (your name) until she succumbed to sleep as well. Their limbs tangled and their hearts full from one another’s company.

Orik did his best to keep a stoic expression when marchioness Golding visited their home bright and early. A large, neatly wrapped gift sat in her butler’s arms as the two nodded at Orik.

“Is (your name) home?” Cressida asked, a giddiness in her voice. “I brought her dress for the salon today.”

Orik frowned but relented on letting Cressida inside. He didn’t want to make an enemy of the golden terror, she was well known for her volatile temper.

“(Your name)?!” Cressida sing songed the small teen’s name in hopes she’d come running over to her. “I’m here to take you to the salon! I have your dress-“

Cressida froze when she saw (your name) fast asleep in her bed. The small girl curled up under her various blankets, her chest softly rose with each breath. She looked like a fairy…

Cressida slowly approached the bed until she sat on the end of it. She outstretched her pale hand to touch (your name)‘s cheek but a large hand stopped her.

Cressida nearly screamed at the sight of Marisa’s disfigured face. The scars made her even more fearsome to gaze at.

“What on earth are you doing?!” Marissa hissed like a snake, her cinnamon eyes narrowed at the golden haired noblewoman. An overwhelming desire to protect the unconscious (your name) consumed the redhead.

“I was just going to wake her was all.” Cressida snatched her wrist back from Marisa’s brutish grip. “You don’t have to be such a brute all the time.”

Marisa scoffed and crossed her muscular arms over her chest. She stuck her nose up at Cressida, Cressida’s face twisted in disgust at the prominent dorsal hump on Marisa’s large nose. Why did Marisa look more masculine when Cressida was Chrysanthos?

“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a creep.”

(Your name) stirred awake, the young woman glanced between her two friends who seemed to be about to argue.

“Good morning-“ (your name) almost screamed when Cressida launched at her to try to hug her but Marisa pushed the blonde over so the blonde onto the end of the bed instead. The blonde landed with a loud thud.

“What was that for?! You could have ruined my dress-“ Cressida quickly calmed herself. She didn’t want to scare her darling away… “I’m here to take you away to the salon, (your name)!”

“Oh… that is today isn’t it?” (Your name) whispered. She had forgotten all about it since she’s been so preoccupied worrying about Marisa. Did that make her an awful friend? “I’m sorry for not being ready, Cressida.”

“No, it’s alright! I bought you a dress.” Cressida leapt up from the bed and scurried over the Gerald. The blonde practically snatched the box from his hands and handed it to (your name). “Here! Open it!”

(Your name) hesitantly opened the box to reveal a beautiful blush colored dress. Her hands grasp the straps to admire it in awe.

“Oh wow… it’s beautiful, Cressida.” (Your name) smiled at her friend who blushed a bright pink.

“Let’s put it on and if we leave now, my maids can do your hair and makeup.” Cressida beamed, much to Marisa’s dismay. (Your name) couldn’t possibly have agreed to hang out with this haunted porcelain doll wannabe.

(Your name) smiled and rose up from the bed with the dress in her arms. The young woman turned to her two friends.

“I’ll need help with this…”

The two women glanced at each other before they rushed over to help (your name). The young woman chuckled at how eager her friends were to help.

(Your name) twirled around in the blush colored dress while Cressida and Marisa admired her. How could someone be so beautiful?

“You look beautiful…” Cressida muttered softly, her cerulean eyes filled with admiration. She wanted to burn this image into her brain forever…

Marisa on the other hand was speechless. Marisa’s throat became dry like sand, her hands now sweaty, and her pupils dilated at the sight in front of her eyes. It took everything in Marisa not to pull (your name) in for a kiss- wait… a kiss? Where did that thought come from?

Marisa shook her head, her cheeks warm when she noticed (your name)’s eyes on her. Oh no… she hadn’t meant to stare for so long.

“Y-you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” (Your name) thanked her friends for their compliment, Cressida’s sharp eyes soon realized (your name) didn’t have proper footwear… she’d have to buy her some.

“Let’s be on our way. I’ll pick you some shoes out and you’ll be all set.”

Marisa frowned when Cressida stole (your name) away. She hated Cressida and not just because Cressida held an obvious torch for (your name). No. There was something off about the golden haired girl.

And Marisa’s gut has never been proven wrong… but she couldn’t put her finger on what it could be…

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 1 year

Text

jealousy, jealousy || Chan x f!reader

Summary: You can feel Chan's eyes on you from across the room. If you're honest, you're enjoying the attention a little more than you should. Sure, technically there's nothing about the little 'arrangement' between the two of you that justifies it, but if you're being honest, what you have with him has been about more than sex for quite some time now.

Word count: 5k

Genres: college AU, friends with benefits AU, smut

Warnings & Tags: jealousy, swearing, mentioned slut shaming (not in a sexy way), smut [oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex], unprotected sex, reader has commitment issues

series masterlist

A/N: final piece in this series! I hope you've enjoyed the ride with me, even if it took way longer than anticipated~ Thank you for the love and support!

Ask anyone on campus, and they’ll tell you how wonderful of a person Bang Chan is. Sweet, kind, involved in campus life, somehow juggling being captain of the swim team with being producer-singer-songwriter for the rising group 3RACHA, he’s loved by everyone and their mother — literally, since he’s the ideal son-in-law.

Ask anyone on campus, and they’ll say you’re a bitch.

Well, maybe not a bitch, but the word that comes back about half the time when talking about you is messy.

To be fair, it’s not a reputation you’ve done anything to counter, or something that you’d say isn’t true about you. ‘Homewrecker’, that you disagree with. You don’t keep tabs on people, and if guys happen to have girlfriends when they hook up with you, you don’t think it says anything about you. ‘Slut’ also gets thrown around every now and then. You don’t feel any type of way about it. Yeah, you like to have fun, no shame in that. Part of you is amused by the word, thinks that the second it gets dropped in a conversation, you know to stop giving a fuck about the person using it. The other’s somewhat annoyed by it. No one’s saying that about Seo Changbin, even if there’s a different girl in his bed every other day. No, he’s a lady’s man, a charmer, but you’re a Jezebel, even though— Ah, forget it. You don’t have to justify any of your actions.

You know your reputation leads to you being easily approached by dudes, specifically when you’re at a party on campus. Guys think it means you’re more likely to sleep with them, when the truth is, you’re very picky with a large number of people to chose from, and no reason to go for the bottom of the barrel.

The thing is, though, that you like having fun at parties. Dancing around, laughing with people, maybe a little bit of harmless flirting that doesn’t have to lead anywhere, that’s just part of it for you. The guys who approach you, however, have a tendency to take that as an indication that you want to fuck them. Which leaves you in the uncomfortable position of having to strike a balance between having fun, not leading people on, and not being mean to them if you’re not interested. Except you regularly do have to be mean to them.

Hence the ‘bitch’ reputation.

Tonight’s not any different on that front. You’re having fun with some guy you have no intention of fucking, laughing at his jokes, all without getting too close. It wouldn’t bother you to do that, even without doing anything with him later on, but you don’t want to deal with that much drama tonight.

What’s new — though it’s become increasingly familiar to you lately — is Chan’s attention on you, which you can feel radiating towards you from across the room. You’ve caught him staring three times in the last hour, shooting him a knowing grin when he didn’t look away fast enough, daring him to come over, if it bothered him that much. He hasn’t moved so far. But he’s been glaring for a while.

It's not like he's not busy, too. He’s surrounded by people, several of whom are talking to him. They get his attention every now and then, and he’s pretty good at pretending. He just keeps on coming back to you, like a butterfly drawn to an incandescent lightbulb.

That’s a game you don’t mind playing, but you’re starting to get bored of the conversation you’re having and, well, you’re not trying to upset Chan, even if he’s cute when he’s angry.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” you say, smile turning polite, as you uncross your legs and start to get up. That works, sometimes. People let you go, and take the hint when you don’t come back.

“I’ll come with you,” the guy says, mimicking your movement immediately.

That isn’t rare either. Just means you’ll have to work a little harder to shake him off.

Though the weather’s been warm lately, a reminder that summer is just around the corner, the air outside still feels cold, compared to how hot it was inside. It would be the perfect change of pace, if it wasn’t for the presence still hovering right beside you. You’re figuring the right way of getting rid of him when he puts his sweaty, clammy arms around your shoulders, and you can’t stop yourself from jumping out of his reach, the feeling supremely unpleasant.

Oops. So much for tact.

“Look,” you say as he’s staring at you with surprise, “I’ve had fun, but I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

Smooth. There was definitely a better way of phrasing this.

At least you didn’t tell him he’d been boring you for the past twenty minutes?

You don’t get much time to feel bad though, because his face contorts in anger — not disappointment, sadness, or even embarrassment, but anger — and then he goes “Are you for real? You’ve been fucking teasing—”

“Hey,” a stern voice comes from behind him. “I think she wants you to leave her alone.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business,” he snaps, turning around, and then freezing when he’s met with Chan, who’s folded his arms over his chest in his best impression of a displeased dad. “Chan, I, uh—”

It takes one look from Chan for the guy to vanish without adding another word. No one wants to cross him, all too aware of the fact that he can ruin someone’s life by even implying that he doesn’t like them — ‘cause Chan’s so nice, why wouldn’t he like you? It’s pretty suspicious of you, to be disliked by this one dude, who’s never asked anyone to take his opinion as gospel.

“My knight in shining armor,” you purr, taking one step towards Chan, mostly just so you can enjoy hearing him clear his throat and watch him averting his eyes. You both know you’re his biggest weakness, after all. “You know I was going to be fine, right?”

That brings back the frown on his face.

“He couldn’t take you telling him you weren’t interested. That shouldn’t be your problem to deal with.”

He has a point. You think. Maybe. You can’t tell for sure, because this is just so normal for you. These days, every other interaction with guys goes like this, and you’ve sometimes had to grapple with the uncomfortable question of whether it’s your reputation doing the work for you, or if you are making people think you’re interested. You know what you do when you’re trying to get into someone’s bed, know that you didn’t pull any of it with that guy, but clearly you’re not being perceived that way.

In the end, you shrug.

“I mean, I was having a good time before this. I just wasn’t going to fuck him.”

It’s always fun to see Chan react to how blunt you are. You know for a fact that he’s capable of swearing like sailor — like he does when he’s inside you — but he always seems taken aback by you being this direct.

You get another step closer. Now, you’d just have to push a little to steal a kiss from him, and his plump lips sure are looking awfully tempting.

“Were you bored without me?” you ask, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“I was—” He clears his throat, not quite looking at you. There was a time when this behavior would have annoyed him, which you also found to be fun, but these days are far behind you now. “—busy.”

You hum in amusement, not fooled by the answer whatsoever — and a little insulted he’d even try that excuse when you know he’s been staring, and he knows you know he’s been staring — but there’s still a tiny little bit of concern poking through.

“Aw,” you say, not dropping the teasing, “even at a party you can’t get a break?” And then, leaning even closer, “Want me to help you relieve some of that stress?”

The tip of his ears goes red, but this time he meets your eyes, and you think he’s going to give in, when a voice calls his name.

From behind him, in appears Mido, and you raise an eyebrow at her. One of the top students in her field, she’s also super involved in campus life. Lately, she’s been busy planning a music festival — you think, you haven’t been paying much attention — which has led her to hang around Chan a lot. She’s pretty high-strung and a workaholic in the making, but she’s kinda cute in her determination. She’s also very into Chan, which, really, who isn’t?

But that makes her, uh, not your biggest fan. You suspect that she’s caught on to some of what’s been going between you and Chan, and it’s clear that she’s not super happy about it. You can’t really blame her. You probably wouldn’t want yourself hanging around Chan that much, if you were a friend of his — not even out of jealousy, but out of fear that you’d break his heart.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she says, somewhat out of breath, “I’ve been working on changing the program, like we’ve discussed, and I was hoping you could take a look at what I’ve got done.”

And there goes your sympathy, replaced with annoyance in the span of a minute.

Maybe you’re like Tinkerbell, not enough space within you for more than one emotion at any given time.

You’re speaking before Chan’s gotten the time to opine and get to work again.

“Seriously?” you say. “It’s a Saturday night. It’s— Fuck, it’s almost two a.m. Can’t he get a break?”

You get a surprised look from Chan, while Mido rolls her eyes like she’d expected that reaction from you and came prepared.

“I realize that you don’t understand the concept of responsibilities, but some of us have stuff to do.”

You almost want to laugh.

“The faculty isn’t going to collapse in on itself if Chan takes a night off.”

“It’s work that’s going to accumulate and make it worse on him as it goes on—”

“Then it sounds like you need to learn to delegate more efficiently, because there is no way that he’d have to be working these hours if that was handled better.”

Mido’s turning very red now, opening and closing her mouth as she looks for a retort. You suppose that the jab at her abilities, something she probably values a lot, wasn’t that nice, but also, fuck, you mean this. Unpleasant opinions have a tendency to slip out of you without you having much control over it, but it’s not like you can take them back when you very much thought ever word you said.

“Hey, how about we calm down,” Chan says, putting a hand on your shoulder, and you know that he has a point, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to snap ‘why should I calm down’ at him. You hold back just enough to get to see him turn around towards Mido with a polite smile. “I’ll look at the schedule first thing tomorrow,” he promises her, and she’s clearly boiling, but she’s more in control of herself than you are, so she doesn’t say anything.

“Sure,” she answers, sounding like she’s stopping herself from screaming. “I’ll email it to you.”

“Thanks,” Chan nods.

He only turns to look at you once she’s left the balcony, marching back inside, no doubt beelining for her friends in order to complain about you.

“Can’t you just play nice?” Chan asks you. He sounds tired rather than pissed.

“I would if you played less nice,” you say. You know that he’s going to have something to retort to that, because he’d probably drop dead if he put himself first for one fucking time in his life, and you don’t want to play into that. So instead, you hook two of your fingers into his belt, pulling him closer to you.

“What do you say we make good use of your hard-earned freedom?”

He swallows, and you know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, even if it only lasts until morning.

You’re already entangled with Chan by the time you push him through his door. His back hits the wall, and he lets out a delightful groan into your mouth. He’s kept his hands gentlemanly on your waist, but you know for a fact that the gentleman act never lasts that long when he’s with you. It’s just a matter of getting him to snap, and these past few months have given you all the opportunities you needed to master that skill.

“You sure Changbin isn’t here tonight?” you ask against his lips. “We could give him a show.” Then, with a grin, “Or we could ask him to join.”

And sure enough, that gets to him. His kiss turns more demanding, he bites at your bottom lip, and, fucking finally, he grabs a handful of your ass. You hear yourself letting out an undignified yelp.

“No way,” he growls, giving you another one of his glares, eyes dark and filled with desire.

“Hmmm, I really like you jealous,” you can’t help but tease him, pushing your hips against him where you can feel him, already half hard. You’d bet he gets off on the idea of showing you that you’re his.

But the comment seems to throw him off a little and he ducks his head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the gentleman in him getting back on top when all you want is for him to rail you unceremoniously. “About earlier.”

He hasn’t let go of you, but he looks like he wants to get this off his chest before you can go with the festivities, so you humor him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you listen to him. If your nails graze against the nape of his neck, it sure isn’t in an attempt to get him to focus back on you.

“You were defending me,” you say with a shrug, mostly to give him in an out.

“No, I was, but—” Ugh, he’s not going to take it. “I was jealous. And I know I— I have no right to be.”

Aw. It’s kinda cute, though you wish he’d stop with the self-flagellation.

“It’s all good,” you find yourself whispering, tone soft, genuinely trying to comfort him rather than just wanting to get it over with. “I didn’t mind.”

The kiss that follows is sweet, soft. When his tongue brushes against yours, it sends shivers all the way down your spine. You’ve long known that Chan has that kind of effect on you.

You’re just not quite ready to grapple with that right now.

“I mean, we both know we can fuck whoever we want,” you add with a vague shrug. “Doesn’t mean I like seeing you being around Mido all the time either.”

“Um,” Chan says, “I don’t— I mean I’m not—”

Fuck it. He’s just too cute. The way he blushes, the way his ears turn red… You just cannot resist the urge to push yourself on your toes to bite gently at the lobe, enjoying the way his whole body shakes at the sensation, before pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Right,” you purr. “You’re only fucking me.”

You might take a little too much pleasure when you say it, if you’re being honest. It’s not purely sexual, too, but you’re choosing not to unpack that right now either. Instead, you find Chan’s mouth, press yourself closer to him, let your tongue run over his lips before he eagerly meets it with his. His left hand comes up to tilt your head back, calloused fingers pushing against your jaw. Despite yourself — because the gesture’s too gentle, too intimate — you raise a hand to cover his, entangling your fingers with his.

His following exhale sounds ragged, painful maybe.

Then he’s grabbing strongly at your waist and suddenly you’re the one with your back against the wall, and he’s pushing his thigh between your legs, spreading them open.

“Fuck,” you hiss.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Gosh, you need him to worry a little less and to start taking responsibility for what he’s doing to you.

“Need you inside me,” is your answer. “Now.”

And that asshole has the gall to shoot you a grin, lifting only one corner of his mouth.

“I might as well make this last, right? Since I’m only fucking you.”

You want to pout, but it’s really fucking hard to keep control over your facial features when he flexes his thigh and it takes all of your willpower to resist rolling your hips and starting to ride him. You will not be giving him the satisfaction.

…not just yet anyway.

Since two can play that game, however, you trace your fingers up his muscular thigh, watch his expression shift from amusement to anticipation as you get closer and closer to his hard cock, now clearly outlined through his pants.

“C’mon, Chan,” you plead, something you’re not above doing, as you easily unbutton his jeans, “you know you want it too.”

Your lips ghost over his neck as your hand makes its way past the band of his boxers and wraps around him, with a little satisfaction coming from the fact that he’s not just hard, he’s also already dripping precum. He groans at your touch, and you grin — though, if you were thinking about previous encounters with him right now, you’d know it’s still too early to claim victory. Your grip remains light, your hand movement slow, tantalizing but nowhere near enough to bring him release.

“I really, really,” you press your thumb against the tip of his cock, rubbing it gently, with more intensity, just so he knows what you could do if he just let himself give in, “want you inside me.” This time it’s more of a whine that he lets out, his breath coming out in tense huffs as he rests his head on your shoulder, and you think you’ve got him right where you want him.

But then he lifts his head and meets your eyes, and you immediately know you’re going to have to wait.

“Where would the fun be in that now, love?”

It’s not the pet name that sets your heart in a frenzy. It’s not. It’s his tone, how warm his eyes are, the anticipation of the pleasure that’s to come.

It’s not the pet name.

“Think you keep standing for me?” he asks you, voice low and rumbling. You blink at him.

“What—”

Then he drops to his knees.

“C’mon, love. When have I ever let you down?”

Ohhh. You think you’re going to really, really enjoy what he’s planning for you.

He takes his sweet time getting on with the program, though. His hands start on your calves, slowly making their way up your legs, and it takes everything for you not to plead with him, again, to get moving. You’re dripping wet for him by now. Your legs are starting to feel weak under you, but it’s too early to give in.

Chan’s large hands reach your thighs, his touch setting your skin on fire with every brush. When he presses a wet kiss against the inside of your thigh, so close to where you actually need him, you let out a whine. You feel him grin against you, but he keeps going, slow and steady, inching closer and closer. He easily lifts your dress up, pushing it up over your stomach so it’s out of the way. By then, you can actually feel his breath against your pussy, and you’re so fucking sensitive in that area right now, you think you’d kill to feel his tongue on you.

But he’s not done yet, no, that would be too easy. He slides your ruined panties down your legs, even when you whine for him to just leave it, it’s fine, and wraps a hand around your ankle to make you step out of them.

Then he kisses the inside of your thigh, again, and your patience runs out. Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull on it, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind him of where his attention should be.

That asshole has the nerve to laugh at that.

He gives you what you want right after that, though. He closes his mouth around your clit, and you throw your head back, loud moans spilling from your lips. You’ve never been one to believe in restraint, and if anything, Chan loves how vocal you get. You’re rewarded by the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on you, and all you can do is hold on to him for dear life, your other hand trying to find something to brace yourself on and coming up empty.

“Fuck, Chan,” you whimper.

“If that’s too much for you,” he says, pulling away, “I can always—”

You guide him right back between your legs. And he gets back to work.

If there’s one thing you have to give to him, it’s that he never half-asses anything. His tongue dances sinfully on your skin, his teeth graze against your folds, tantalizing, and you’re reduced to moans, whines, and desperate pleas for more — you have no idea what it is you want, but Chan knows exactly what you need. He’s already got you crying out his name in a broken litany when he pushes two fingers into you. They slide right in, and you gasp for air, briefly falling quiet at the pleasure.

Your knees give in under you, and Chan catches you just in time.

“You’re all good, love,” he praises you as he lifts one of your legs. “Just hold on a little longer for me, alright?”

There’s something about him talking to you like that, about the kind warmth of his words, that turns your insides into jelly. So all you do is nod as he helps you hook your leg over his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks you, still taking the time to check up on you even though he should know by now that he’s the best lay you’ve ever had.

As an answer, you use your heel to push him back into you. Once you’ve got his mouth and his fingers back on you and in you, you let yourself drown into the pleasure. Because, fuck, having Chan’s undivided attention, having him eating you out like a starved man while his fingers curl inside of you, sliding in and out with a slow rhythm — if this isn’t what heaven feels like, you don’t think you want it.

Your legs start to shake as your orgasm approaches. By the time you cum, with a loud, high-pitched cry, Chan’s hand under your ass and the leg you have over his shoulder are really the only things keeping you upright. He doesn’t let you go for one second, allowing you to move your hips to ride the wave of your orgasm, even if it’s just little jerks of your hips, because you have zero control of your body right now.

You’d hate that on any other occasion.

Right now, you don’t mind.

You feel yourself slide to the floor as you slowly regain your brain cells. Chan’s still all around you, his heat, his arms, cradling you while you come back to your senses. He rubs your back, mumbling praises into your ear, and it’s good, it’s so fucking perfect, but you need— you can’t let this go that route, not just yet. He already knows you get a little cheesy towards the end of the night, so that’s fine, but it’s too early to succumb to that.

“Wanna move this to the room, or do you also want to fuck me against the wall?” you ask him, turning your head so you’re facing him.

His nose brushes against yours. It’s funny, after everything he’s just done to you, that this still gets him to blush.

“R—” He clears his throat. “Room. I’ve got— I’ve got condoms in there.”

He gets up and pulls you back up to your feet with ease, which, damn, you know he lifts, but it’s still impressive. You let yourself fall into his arms, enjoying a nice squeeze of his biceps while you get the chance. You need to get him out of his shirt, you remind yourself, and you immediately get to work on the buttons, tracing his skin with every inch you uncover. Goosebumps form under your nails, and a jerk of his hips when you brush over his nipple reminds you that he has yet to be taken care of.

Aw. You just can’t have that now, can you?

“Hm, I’ve been thinking we could try without that,” you say. Your voice comes out light, but you know that it’s not as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound. Chan tenses against you. Clearly, he realizes it as well.

“I mean I— I’d love to, but it’s—” His eyes are wide as he searches yours. You wonder if he thinks that was a throwaway line, something you said just to say something. Surely he knows that’s not the case. You’ve always been adamant about protection.

“I’m on the pill, I’m clean, I’ve gotten tested,” you shrug. “Are you clean?”

“Yeah, I am,” he nods, and it’s adorable how eager he is, “just— when— have you—”

It’s so obvious that he’s trying not to hurt your feelings. He should know that these conversations would never do that. That doesn’t stop a pit from forming in your stomach. What you’ll say next will change things. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but it’s been a long time coming. Maybe since the first time Chan gave in to his desires against his better judgment, maybe since the first time your eyes met.

“It’s all good, I haven’t been with anyone else for a couple months,” you say.

Chan freezes. You can only imagine what’s going on through his mind right now, but you— can’t have that. Not right now. So, of course, you have to defuse the situation. You grab his chin, smile seductively at him.

“Why would I when I have the best right here?”

All you know is that after that, you crash through the door to Chan’s room, and he throws you onto his bed while he practically rips off his shirt and pants. You push yourself up on your elbows, but you don’t have the time to take off your heels or your dress before he’s kneeling between your legs, spreading them open. He’s not playing games anymore, there’s no playfulness in his eyes, just hunger — and maybe the tiniest speck of uncertainty.

So you reach for his face to kiss it away, soft and gentle, and for a second, he melts into you. As you move away, you keep your forehead pressed against his, and he exhales a trembling breath.

Neither of you says a word. The moment passes.

A second later, he plunges into you with one harsh movement of the hips and you fall onto your back with a cry, arching against him. Feeling him for the first time without anything between you is… different, for sure, but it’s a good different, fuck, it’s so perfect that you don't think you’ll be able to go back on that. You have no way of knowing what’s going on in his mind, but you do hear him moan once, loud and without restraint, before he falls into your arms as his hips start moving with an animalistic pace. You grab onto him, nails digging into his back — this is going to leave a mark for sure, but you kind of like the idea, so. Now you regret not having taken off your dress, because you’d love to feel him against you. There isn't much space in your brain for those thoughts though, not when the pleasure is so overwhelming.

You’re still all sensitive from your orgasm, and Chan’s fast thrusts into you only heighten the sensations. Soon, warmth is building up into you again, but Chan’s showing no signs of slowing down. His head’s buried in your neck, his hands clutching the sheets on either side of you. When your legs start shaking with a second orgasm, all you can do is let out desperate moans while he keeps fucking into you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans again, which is uncharacteristically vocal of him — and fucking hot, by the way. “So good for me.”

“All for you,” you whimper in response. “Just for you.”

You reach for his face, kiss him, tongue messily intertwining with him.

He comes inside of you without a warning, just with a long, low groan, before collapsing on top of you without even pulling out.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles after long, blissful seconds. “Did you not want me to—”

“You’re good,” you interrupt him before he can start freaking out. “Just— Think you can carry me to the bathroom?”

“Of course,” he replies. Then, voice lower, barely above a whisper, “Anything for you.”

You used to have this rule against staying the night after sleeping with a guy. Felt it made them act all territorial, and you liked doing the walk of shame in the middle of the night better than at dawn, if you had to choose. But it’s different with Chan. It’s always been different with him, no matter how hard you try to deny it.

You slip back into the bed after cleaning yourself up, and he wraps himself around you, body slotted together perfectly.

“That my shirt?” he asks as he presses a kiss against your neck.

“And your boxers,” you inform him. “You mind?”

“Nah. It’s kinda hot, that’s all.”

You grin, twisting yourself around so you can get another kiss from him, and he indulges you, not leaving you to wait for even a second. Neither of you adds anything, and you settle yourself comfortably for sleep.

It’s obvious what’s going on between the two of you, what this is all leading up to, even with you not putting words on it just yet.

All in due time, as long as you’re by his side.

Last part of this, and another one where the couple is one I've had in mind for a while lol. I'd headcanon that in the morning, the reader joins the commity that's organizing the festival and is weirdly good at it bc she actually goes to a lot of festivals (she's mostly doing it to ensure that Chan isn't overworked tho). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the series, if you want to give feedback, reblog or comment, I'd be super grateful, and I'll see you for future works!

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

#skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz x reader #candywrites

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tightjeansjavi · 7 months

Text

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“Teacher Tommy”

written deliciously by @tightjeansjavi & @itsokbbygrl 💗🤭 LJ lost her smut v-card last night, and it calls for a celebration!

~word count: 7.0k~ (we…yeah 🥵)

Summary: Tommy teaches you how to properly eat pussy

Pairing | pornstar!tommy miller x f!readers (two unnamed female characters written in 3rd POV)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, amateur porn film, one mention of degrading language (purity culture) soft!dom Tommy, threesome, mff/wlw, oral (f receiving), pussy worship, unprotected piv, bush love, consent, sex positive environment, brief mention of Tommy’s sexuality (and a sprinkle of Joel’s) dirty talk, teasing, one mention of hair (unspecified length/no details) no other physical description of the readers, unspecified age gap (legal) +18 minors dni! (Let me know if I missed anything!)

series masterlist

Unlike his brother Joel, who meticulously crafts his films and is stubborn as an ox, Tommy’s signature filming style revolves around spontaneity—spur of the moment changes to scripts and impromptu dialogue, creating a care-free and very, very fun set environment where his actors feel empowered to follow their instincts. Tommy isn’t too keen on having the perfect mood lighting or props to add to the ambiance. He likes amateur-style, low quality camera shots and iPhone POV’s from his partners. While Joel is truly making adult-film art, Tommy unabashedly loves making porn.

And Tommy’s girls are first and foremost, sexy. That’s not at all to do with their looks, although if you asked him, they’re all 10 out of 10 knockouts in their unique ways. No, to Tommy it’s all about confidence. A woman who knows what she wants and goes for it, no care for the names society might call her. Slut. Whore. Harlot. Jezebel. There is nothing in the world sexier than a sexually liberated woman, and Tommy has made it his literal job to show the world that.

Tommy checks the time on his phone’s lock screen and heads over to the studio. He’s scheduled to supervise and direct a scene between a couple of their female actresses. A younger looking couple, it’ll be listed as a first-time experience–horny best friends who are experimenting with each other for the first time, hopefully catching the budding chemistry between two women who already love each other one way turning into a simmering heat that leads to sexy fun. Tommy recalls some of his early days experimenting himself, that feeling of excitement at trying something new, learning how to make another person’s body sing like he knows his own, and he knows exactly how he’s going to help them bring that energy to set.

One of Tommy’s actresses is fairly experienced in the art of women loving women porn, but the second is a greenie and it’s evident that she’s feeling nervous and self conscious even before the filming begins.

“Hey, Tommy? Maybe instead of you just filming, you show her how to eat pussy? Make it a teaching moment?” His experienced partner suggests as she takes a sip from her water bottle.

Tommy mulls over the idea for a moment. He wasn’t planning on being in the scene today, but if the day called for it, he could jump in; expecting it from time to time with his line of work where he had to be ready for just about anything. “Think you’re onto somethin’ there.” He grins.

He makes his way over to his second partner who is sitting off to the side, aimlessly scrolling on her phone. Tommy notices her slightly trembling fingers and tense shoulders, clearly anxious. Well, that just won’t do.

“Hey doll, y’got a minute?” He asks softly.

She tenses for a second before looking up at him with a practiced pleasant smile. Fuck.

“Yeah, of course! What’s up?” she starts. When Tommy doesn’t speak right away, she sighs and continues, looking back at the phone limply held in her hands, “Look, I understand if you think that I’m maybe not the right fit for this scene. I’ve never—”

He interjects with a reassuring smile. “Hey, none of that, alright? I’m not kickin’ ya offset if that’s what you’re thinking.” He winks to ease her nerves. “Was actually gonna suggest that we make a change, put me in the scene with ya. Y’know, showin’ you the ropes on how to properly eat pussy. How’s that sound, doll?”

She looks at him as if he has suddenly sprouted five heads and her lips part in shock. “Wait, you want to like..teach me? Holy—I mean, I’m good with it if you both are?”

“Course, doll. I’ll teach ya, and then by the end of it, you’ll be a pussy eatin’ pro!” He laughs. “It was actually her idea to have me teach you. We both know you’re a greenie, and we want you to be comfortable, okay?”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. I honestly was dreading coming in for this today when you told me what the premise of the scene would be.” She visibly relaxes and then barks a laugh after a second, hand flying up to cover her mouth. Amused, Tommy prompts her to share her thoughts. “What if we titled it “Teacher Tommy?” she suggests with a small grin.

“Well, if that’s the case,” he leaned in close, “class is in session.”

With everyone on the same page, Tommy double checks to make sure everything is ready to begin filming. He sets the lower quality digital camcorder he thrifted from a local camera shop up on the small table stationed next to the middle of the bed and turns on the attached light, bathing the three of them in a soft white glow that barely extends to the other side of the bed. Low quality resolution is a favorite stylistic choice of Tommy’s, loving the way it adds to the feeling of realism and spontaneity in his films, as if none of this was planned–they just pulled out the camera in the heat of the moment, wanting to cement the memory in history.

He moves to the far corner of the room where he has his phone sitting on an armchair next to a small speaker. He picks it up and opens his Spotify app, turning towards his partners.

“Hey girls, what sounds good? What’s the vibe?”

“Can I see your phone?” his scene partner asks.

“Yeah, baby, of course. Here you go,” he hands her the unlocked phone. She types for a minute and scrolls, finding what she was looking for and hands the phone back to Tommy. He gives the playlist a quick preview. “This will work,” he smirks.

He puts the phone back in its previous place and turns on the speaker, making sure it’s correctly linked to the input of the separate audio recording device so he can mute this particular track while editing the video, and presses play. He learned the hard way that not all background music is equal after they received a cease and desist letter from Universal Music Group for copyright infringement on one of their first videos produced at Miller-Co. Joel was less than pleased about that one, giving Tommy a tongue lashing about professionalism and an angry, “This is why we plan ahead, Tommy!” Since then he’s learned how to create a vibe in the studio conducive to generating the right feelings and reactions in his scene partners while simultaneously protecting their company’s assets. Tommy Miller is nothing if not a practiced multitasker.

“Everyone still ready to go?” Tommy checks in one final time, making sure he has enthusiastic “yeses” from his partners before he starts the camcorder and sits on the bed, starting the scene.

Tommy sits on the bed, the girls following the loose script they’d prepared. They giggle, one of them reaching over and grabbing the hem of Tommy’s cotton t-shirt, looking into his eyes and waiting for his nod before tugging it up over his head, Tommy raising his arms to assist with its removal. The light catches the peaks and valleys of his obliques as he moves. He leans forward, smiling, and reaches out a hand to cup her face and pull her into him for a heated kiss. He makes sure to angle her face with the hand on her jaw so the camera catches the way their tongues dance together while he uses his other hand to move to the waist of her denim shorts.

“Let’s take these off, sugar. Get you a little more comfy,” he drawls, looking her down and back up, meeting her eyes, then dipping to her spit slick, plush lips. She nods, utters a soft yeah, please in response. His fingers trace along the edge of the waistband until they get to the button, pushing it with his thumb through the hole, using his remaining fingers to pull the tab forward, and then pulls the zip down slowly, letting the tension build.

With the extra space, Tommy reaches inside her shorts, cupping his hand over her clothed sex and pressing up with his palm, giving her some friction. She lets out a soft whine. He smiles, atta girl. She pushes the shorts down her thighs and kicks them off with her feet. Now partially exposed, he spreads her thighs, making sure the camera can see his ministrations as he strokes his fingers over her panties, teasing. Her mouth drops open and head drops down, chin to chest, watching where he touches.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, baby?” He asks and she nods in response. He tips her chin back up with his unoccupied forefinger and leaves another kiss on her mouth before he turns to their other partner, never stopping the teasing ministrations of his occupied hand.

“C’mere, doll. Lemme see you.” He removes his hand from his first partner’s mound, wet patch visible through her cotton panties where he’s pressed them into her cunt, splitting her lips, showing off the shape of her even through the material, and moves it to the collar of his second partner’s blouse. He attaches his lips to the underside of her jaw and nips, soothing the bite with his lips and tongue while his fingers deftly unbutton her shirt, pushing it gently from her shoulders, bare breasts exposed to the cool air of the room around her. She lets it slip off her arms and tangles her fingers in his thick, dark curls, anchoring him to her. He kisses from the spot along her jawline until he meets her mouth and she’s hungry for it, eating at his mouth with her own. He groans at her forwardness, this is his favorite part, he thinks.

Eventually he pulls back, taking a moment to admire her newly exposed skin. He leans forward, taking nearly the whole of one breast into his big hand, and brings it to his mouth, humming as he suckles at her, lathes his tongue over her peaked nipple. She throws her head back and moans. He allows himself one final deep suck before he pulls off with an audible, “pop.” He kisses up her chest, runs the tip of his tongue over the front of her neck, up and over her chin, over her parted lips, and leaves a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. The contrast makes her laugh, and the sound sets him and their other partner off in tandem, the sound tinkling through the room, and easing them into the next moment.

He turns and finds their other partner has removed her top while they were occupied, now only clothed in her damp panties and little socks. He shucks his pants and briefs, and the girls share a heated look before moving together. Tommy makes room, allowing them to explore each other for a moment while he reaches down and palms his half hard cock. They finish undressing each other as they kiss, hands roaming over torsos, before the first girl lets one hand drift lower, reaching the wet center of her partner, and she slides her middle finger through the glistening slick, gathering some before bringing it to her mouth, making eye contact and sucking it deep into her mouth, groaning at the tangy flavor that bursts on her tongue.

“Yum,” she says playfully, and they giggle. Tommy joins in, smiling, loving watching them have fun. This is what this is all about, he thinks, cock now fully hard in his grip, thumb gently stroking over his head, smearing the precum there, creating a sticky mess.

He rejoins them. “She taste nice, sweetheart?” He asks, tracing his fingers down her chest, her stomach, watching the muscles in her abdomen twitch and clench at the sensation. He looks up and sees her nodding. He grins back, fingers lightly playing with the soft curls at the top of her sex. “Should we compare?” He presses his fingers down, sliding between her lips, a quiet, “Shit,” leaving his mouth unbidden at the sensation of feeling her once dampness now fully blossomed into wet. He drags two fingers insistently through her, running from her hole to just below her clit and back, building her pleasure slowly. He pulls his fingers back, spreads them, lets the sticky mess of her stretch into clear strings between them, and he whistles lowly at the sight. “Ain’t that pretty,” he says, and then he brings them up to her mouth, resting lightly on her lower lip. “Open up, sugar, give yourself a taste.” She obeys, sucking his fingers into her mouth, winding her tongue around and between them, closing her eyes as she suckles, cleaning him fully before releasing them with a pop. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Hmm,” she thinks on it playfully, tapping her fingers to her chin in mock deep thought. “I think I taste pretty good. Want a taste?” She asks, turning between both of her bed partners searching for a response.

Tommy, as pre-planned, turns and finds the greener of the two women fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. He chimes in, directing his response at her instead, “I’m up to share if you are?”

She raises her head and meets his eyes, her gaze full of trepidation and excitement in equal measure. Good actress, Tommy thinks. She speaks then, softly replying, “I’ve…um, I’ve never..” and gestures to their partners exposed, glistening cunt.

“You’ve never eaten pussy before, baby?” He asks her gently and she shakes her head, dropping eye contact. He reaches up, pushes his fingers through her hair as a comforting point of contact, strokes over the shell of her ear with his thumb, before resting his palm on the side of her neck. “That’s just fine, sweetheart. You wanna learn?” She perks up at the line, eyes alight with the possibility. She nods shyly and Tommy gives her a real smile then, easing her into the meat of the scene. “Well, just call me, “Teacher,” then, I suppose,” and he chuckles.

Here we go, he thinks. He turns back to his other partner, leaning in and giving her another soft kiss on her mouth, then another, and another, leaning her back onto the bed as he goes. “Now you, just lay here and look pretty. We’re gonna take real good care of you, sugar.” Once she’s laid fully on her back, he sits back on his haunches and reaches forward, grabbing under her thighs and hauling her forward by the hips, pressing her thighs back and exposing the center of her fully to their gazes. “Gorgeous little cunt,” he says, and turns to his new pupil. “Come take a look, babygirl. You ever seen a pussy so pretty?”

She scoots over, planting herself right next to Tommy, leaning into his side and looking at where her partner is on display for her. She speaks up then, “So pretty, wow, she’s so wet.” He isn’t sure she’s even fully aware of what she’s doing or if she’s just as pussy drunk as he’s starting to feel, but she reaches forward then, lets her fingers touch featherlight, exploring the feel of another woman for the first time.

“There you go, baby, give it a feel,” Tommy encourages, and she’s a good student, fingers moving more surely then, scritching lightly through her partner’s soft curls, making her stomach jump, and she smiles at the reaction she created. Growing bolder, she dips a finger lower, gasping softly at what she finds waiting for her.

“Oh my god,” their partner moans.

“Doing so good, sweetheart, keep going,” Tommy says, kissing her shoulder, nipping at it lightly, letting his hand explore her back, fingers trailing over the knobs of her spine, dipping ever so slightly into pock marks scattered here and there, tapping at the constellation of beauty marks and moles he finds. When he comes back around to face the scene in front of him, he’s pleasantly surprised to find her fully exploring now.

“Mmm, that nice, sugar? She makin’ you feel good?” Tommy prompts their receiving partner and she nods surely.

“Yeah, she’s so, mmm god, a natural. You’re sure you’ve never done this before?” she asks.

Pausing her ministrations briefly to chuckle, she looks up from where her gaze was trained on the slick slit where her fingers have been playing, “Nope, first pussy I’ve ever been in. It’s fun, I like it. Think I want a taste,” she responds, turning to look at Tommy.

“Yeah, babygirl? Alright, come here,” Tommy pats the space next to him and lays on his stomach, gesturing for her to do the same. She lays down next to him, kicking her feet up behind her and crossing them at the ankles. Cute, he thinks.

“Sugar, can you do us a favor?” He drags his hands up the backs of her thighs and pushes them towards her chest by the bend of her knees. “Can you hold these for us, please? Gonna be a little busy, need both of my hands,” he explains and winks at her. She groans softly in anticipation at his statement and complies, grabbing behind her own knees and maintaining a hold there, opening herself up to be further devoured.

“Ok, baby, now first thing’s first, every pussy’s a little different, every woman is going to like something a little different, too. But there’s two things for certain–” he leans in and presses his hands to the crease where her thighs meet her cunt, runs his thumbs reverently over her outer lips and spreads her open, “don’t overlook the power of gentleness, and always remember to love the clit.” He punctuates the end of his sentence by using the tip of his nose to rub a tight circle into her nub, inhaling deeply as he goes.

“Holy fucking shit,” she responds, squeezing her thighs tighter in her grip.

The woman next to him squirms, and he wonders if she’s feeling it, too, the phantom drag across her most sensitive spots.

He pulls his face back to move the scene forward, delivering a line they planned earlier. "Hey, sugar, you got your phone with you?” She lifts her head from where it was resting on the bed to nod at him. “Let's get this on video so babygirl here can watch it back later, give her a little coaching if she needs it,” he turns next to him, plants a kiss on his partner’s shoulder, “Or if she’s as much of a natural as I think she’ll be, you’ll both have a nice little souvenir for the wank bank," he ends crudely, almost jokingly, shrugging and chuckling.

She lets go of one of her legs and reaches over, finds her phone where it was resting in the sheets, unlocking it and turning on the camera, the flash illuminating their faces between her thighs, slick from her cunt making Tommy’s nose glisten. She whines at the sight.

“There we go. We makin’ a pretty picture for you, sugar?” Tommy teases.

“Oh, fuck yeah, this is for sure the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” she replies in earnest.

Tommy preens. He uses one arm to push the leg she dropped to pick up the phone back into position. “Alright sugar darlin’, need you to use both hands, hold that camera steady for us,” he instructs. “Now, baby, grab her other leg, yep just like that, push it back, give yourself some room to work. Perfect little student for me, aren’t you?” Access to their pussy re-granted, Tommy gets back to work, missing the way her eyes glaze over at the praise.

“Next lesson–multitasking. Now, when you’re getting fucked real good, right, you’ve got a nice cock inside you, stroking nice and deep, hitting those nice spots and that’s fine, but the ones who know what they’re doing, they do a little extra, don’t they baby?” He looks at his partner next to him, gently stroking the pussy in front of him with his thumb, making sure she stays nice and stimulated while he teaches. He receives an animated nod in return and continues, “that’s right. If they’re worth their salt in bed, they’re hitting all the good spots, inside and out. This is no different, baby. We’re going to start outside first. Watch me, then you take a turn, ok?” He doesn’t wait for her response before he dives in.

Tommy turns his head ever so slightly to the side, making sure the camcorder can see his tongue when he eventually moves it through her. He uses the hand not holding back her thigh to spread the lips of her cunt open further for him with his forefinger and thumb. He leans down all the way, leaving a kiss to the whole of her, before his tongue flicks out and licks a wide stripe from just above her hole to her pulsing clitoris, tongue contracting and flicking firmer as it passes over the sensitive nub. He earns a moan from her in response and repeats the motion again and again, lapping at her cunt like a cat getting the sweetest cream. He moans at the tangy taste of her, of pussy, the flavor incomparable to anything else he’s ever tasted and he loves this, the carnal delight of sex. He gives a final lap and kisses her clit as a parting gift before passing the reins to his partner.

“Alright, sweetheart, you ready for a turn?” She nods eagerly, pupils blown wide, mouth lush and swollen with arousal. Tommy moves over a little, giving her room to get situated. He removes her hand from the other woman’s thigh, giving her the comfort of having both hands to work with for her first time. Their partner lets her leg fall from where it was being held and instead opens up at her hip, resting it in a frog-like position with her knee on the bed, letting her calf and foot rest on the other woman’s upper back. Good girl, thank you, he thinks, making quick eye contact with her and in silent communication.

Hesitantly, she leans down, doing just what Tommy showed her, spreading pussy lips open with her thumbs and licking gently, first along the plush softness of her inner lips, just tasting, feeling it out. The whine her exploration earns must spur her on, because she dives in with abandon then, gathering her viscous wetness direct from the source and bringing it with her before lathing her tongue over her clit again and again, lapping and swirling, moaning into it, both women losing themselves in the pleasure of the moment, unworried about the sounds emanating from their throats.

“There you go, baby, doing such a good job. Such a quick learner. You like that? You like eating pussy?” His mouth is filthy, egging her on, watching as she whines into it and nods her head. He laughs at that, “Alright, now, come up for air, got more to teach ya.” She pulls away, taking a few labored breaths, mouth shiny, corners turned up into a pleased grin, and he can’t help but to pull her in, share a deep, slick kiss, get his second helping from her tongue.

Tommy resumes his earlier position between their partner’s thighs, giving the one in his grasp a sweet kiss. He turns back to his student and continues his instruction. "Now, if you really wanna make her sing, you gotta multitask, get your fingers in her while your tongue works on the outside. Watch, here,” he looks down at the messy, open cunt in front of him and slides his index finger inside gently, letting a guttural groan leave his throat at the feel of her. She’s hot, soaking wet, and tight. This is going to be so much fun, he thinks to himself. He gives her a few slow pumps, watching her like a hawk, making sure she’s feeling good and relaxed before he pulls his finger out, offering it to his bed neighbor and she opens immediately, welcoming it into her mouth and sucks the now familiar milky slickness clean.

“Mmm, good girl, baby, thanks for cleaning me up. Sugar, you ok to take another?” He checks in.

“Yes, yes, please, more, Tommy,” she responds eagerly.

“Happy to oblige,” he smiles before getting back to work. He slides in his first two fingers together this time, letting her unfurl her muscles and pull him inside, holds steady for a moment, leaving kisses on her thighs, the top of her mound, nosing at her curls. Once he feels her totally relaxed, he starts to withdraw, shallowly at first, before pumping back inside slowly. He steadily adds length to each stroke, until she’s easily taking all of his thick, long fingers without resistance. The sounds reverberating through the room are obscene. Pussy absolutely squelching, moans unabashed as he hits her just right every few strokes, then he adds more.

He drops her leg, letting her open for him like she did for their partner, giving him access to his other hand. He uses his newfound freedom to curve above where his face hovers and pulls back the little flap of skin hooding her sweet clitoris. He leans his face down and points his tongue, pressing firmly, directly onto her fully exposed button for a second before flicking it at a rapid pace up and down, back and forth, all the time never ceasing his movements inside her.

“Tommy, Tommy, fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna–” she nearly shouts, feeling her tense, squeezing his fingers like a vice, before she releases, walls of her cunt pulsating in time with the pounding of her heart, slickness coating down to his palm.

“There you go, sugar. Gorgeous when you fall apart,” he praises. “You ok to keep going, or you need a break?”

She sits up, phone forgotten for a moment, dropping it to her side while she answers, “Give me like 30 seconds. I wanna do that again, with her this time,” she points at their partner who is looking at the scene in front of her with poorly concealed awe on her face, never seeing another woman orgasm up close like this before.

“Think we can do that, sugar. You up for it, babygirl?” He turns to check on his other partner.

“Ye–mmh,” she starts, voice thick, before clearing her throat and trying again. “Yeah, yes, please. I would like that very much.”

“Alright, sweetpea, hop on in here. You get stuck, you wanna stop, you need anything, just say, ok? We got you,” he reassures her with his words, clean hand running over her hair gently and down to cup her cheek.

She situates herself between her partner’s thighs and looks up, offering a shy, “Hi, again,” and giggling. Her partner giggles back and waves a little wave. “I’m just gonna…” she starts, and presses in her first two fingers, knowing the feeling of her own cunt, but finding the feeling of another woman’s entirely new at the same time. She starts a slow and easy rhythm, building her confidence with every new sound she drags out of her partner.

“Want to try adding your mouth?” Tommy encourages. She leans down, hovering right over where she’s most wanted, and looks up and makes direct eye contact with the camera in her partner’s hands before she licks. Her partner throws her head back and groans, something deep and real, almost animalistic. She continues, alternating between a pattern of flicking like Tommy and lapping like before, absolutely devouring the juicy pussy in front of her. The loud squish squish squish she’s drawing from inside her cunt causing her own core to pull tight and hot, the liquid of her slicking her nearly to dripping onto the sheets below.

Tommy watches on absolutely rapt. Cock angry at him for not sinking into the nearest tight, hot, wet hole immediately. He staves off his primal desire, giving it a harsh squeeze at the base, tell it to behave a little while longer, the chastity will be worth the reward they have planned.

“God, baby, sugar, so sexy, look so goddamn gorgeous together, sound so gorgeous together, fuck,” he rambles, knowing he doesn’t have long until he needs to come.

He squeezes the base of his cock once more, taking his lower lip between his teeth and bites down hard as he gets lost in the mix of obscene moans coming from his two partners. It’s like a symphony to his ears, (and his cock). He makes the executive decision to remove himself from the scene momentarily and swipes a bottle of water from a nearby table and twists the cap off in a haste.

The mushroom head of his cock is red, angry and engorged as he downs the entire bottle, a few stray drips of water roll down his chin, neck, and between his pecs.

When he makes his way back to the bed, both women are coming down from their highs, bodies slick with a sheen of sweat coating them like a sultry mist. They’re a mess of giggles and praises when Tommy situates himself once more. He presses a warm kiss to the shoulder blade of his bedside partner, nipping playfully with his teeth.

“How are we feelin’, ladies? Can teacher Tommy getcha anything? Refreshments? Need a breather?” His tone is light and carefree, genuine.

His bedside partner who has her cheek resting against the pelvic bone of the other woman, looks over at him with a newfound confident grin. Her face and lips are covered in slick that glistens on her skin. She makes direct eye contact with him briefly before her eyes slowly drift southwards to his cock. She coyly smiles and peers back upwards to him. “Well, there is one thing you could get for me..” she trails off.

He’s proud, it’s written all over his face and he does his best to contain his genuine smile and craft it into a convincing smirk. But it’s moments like these where he’s reminded just how much he loves his job. The reward of a satisfying orgasm is almost always certain, but to see a woman come out of her shell so naturally? Now, that’s a spectacle that he holds onto dearly.

“What is it that you want me to do for you, doll?”

“Teacher Tommy, can you please fuck me while I eat her pretty pussy?” She asks sweetly, eyes glazed over, pussy drunk undoubtedly, but the way she’s eyeing his cock has Tommy nearly combusting right there on the spot.

“You want teacher to fuck you now? Mmm. Think I can manage that, baby. You okay with me goin’ in raw? S’what I prefer, but whatever the lady wants.” He reassures her.

This type of conversation rarely ever takes place in mainstream porn. Most people would end up skipping through to get back to the main event, but Joel’s and Tommy’s viewers were different. They thoroughly enjoyed all the real bits of dialogue and relatable moments.

She giggles and pushes herself up into a sitting position between the other woman’s thighs. “Fuck me raw, please.”

“Atta girl.” He grins and gives the base of his cock a few slow pumps. He’s at the point where he’s hoping, praying that he can last through this without coming too soon. Despite his years of built up stamina, sometimes pussy is just that good.

He watches with hooded eyes as his bedside partner rolls back over onto her stomach, back arched as she dives right back into what Tommy taught her about the art of pussy eating. There’s no hesitation on her end as she laps at the other woman’s clit, eyes fluttering shut as she savors the tangy taste on her tongue.

The bed dips down slightly as Tommy situates himself behind her. His hands slide around her hips, yanking her back towards him in a sudden motion. Her weeping hole is pulsing, pushing out a drool of slick that gathers between her thighs, and he marvels at the sight of it.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous pussy you got, babygirl. Fuckin’ drippin’ all over the goddamn sheets.” He whistles low. “Eatin’ pussy really turned ya on, huh? Mmm. Your little hole is just beggin’ to be fucked.” He rasps and drops one hand from her hip to spread open her thighs further so that he can get a proper look.

“Such a needy lil’ cunt. Fuck. Don’t worry, baby. Teacher Tommy is gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

“Please, please, please fuck me, Tommy.” She mumbles against the woman’s cunt, mouth full of pussy. She presses her ass back towards him, desperate to feel the sweet stretch of his cock.

“Alright, alright, darlin.’ I know how eager you are, baby. Trust me, I know.” He chuckles before spitting directly onto his cock. He rubs his saliva in for extra lubrication (not that he needs it) before he notches the head of his cock at her entrance. He’s so painfully hard that he has to press down on it with his thumb to get the angle right as he slowly guides it into her wet warmth. She hugs him like the tightest fucking glove, pulling him in further and further till he’s bottomed out with his hips firmly pressed against her ass.

Vulgar, crude, filth tumbles past his lips as her pussy squeezes him like a vice he never wants to part from. He lets out a puff of hot air, before he chuckles, tone deep and raspy, “Jesus fuckin’ christ, doll. This pussy made outta liquid gold or somethin’? Lord have mercy, goddamn.”

Between moans both women couldn’t help but giggle at his comment, but those giggles transformed into cries of pleasure when Tommy almost immediately set a grueling pace, thrusting in and out of her. His skin slapped against hers wildly as the entire length of his impressive cock disappeared and reappeared again. Her jaw went slack and the movements of her mouth on the other woman’s pussy had soon become uncoordinated and messy.

“Don’t you stop eatin’ her pussy on my account, doll. I know how fuckin’ good it feels to have my cock stretchin’ your pussy apart, but c’mon, baby. You can do this.” He encourages her, leaning down with the breadth of his shoulders pressing into her back as he leans over, cock buried so deep inside of her, she can feel the head of him kissing her womb. “Want you to suck her clit into your mouth, babygirl. Remember to be nice n’gentle. It’s a sensitive little thing, and she’s so-so close. Make her come for me, baby, c’mon. Make her come for Teacher Tommy.”

She nods fervently, trying to focus back in on making the other woman feel good, while also enjoying her own pleasure. By god, Tommy Miller has a nice fucking cock, and he sure as hell knows how to use it. She suckles her clit into her mouth as instructed, rolling her tongue over the little pulsing bud. She uses her hands to keep her thighs spread apart when they threaten to close in around her skull.

“That’s it. Good fuckin’ girl.” He growls praisingly. “Makin’ her pussy sing, baby. Makin’ her feel so fuckin’ good. Teacher Tommy is so-so proud. But y’know what would make him even prouder, babygirl? Makin’ her pretty pussy squirt all over your face. C’mon, baby, you and me. Let’s get her there.”

He receives a chorus of enthusiastic “yes, yes, yes, teacher Tommy.”

He grinds his hips deep into her ass before pulling back shallowly and thrusts back in, repeating the pattern as he instructs. “Now to get her there, baby. Y’gotta do somethin’ extra special. Want you to slip your fingers back inside of her, and crook your ‘em inwards. Keep ‘em right there and do that as fast as you can. Drag ‘em n’ shake ‘em just right while you suckle on that sweet lil’ clit, and she’ll really sing for ya then.” His southern twang is thick and raspy, his own orgasm impending, but he’ll be damned if he comes too soon.

She obeys enthusiastically as she remembers just how Tommy taught her how to eat her out and finger her at the same time. She slips two fingers inside of her pulsing hole, scissoring them open before she crooks them inwards, right against that soft, spongy warm spot. She curls them at a rapid quick pace while she sucks on her clit just like she did before. The other woman wails and keens her hips forward into her face, chanting her name as her fingers grip her head tightly, nails scraping her scalp.

“O—oh—oh fuck!” She cries out, throwing her head back, “I’m gonna cum! Oh god, don’t stop! Please, please, please!” She sees stars behind her eyes as white hot pleasure shoots from the top of her spine and down to the tips of her toes.

“Come for us, sugar. C’mon, soak her fuckin’ face!” Tommy’s voice is commanding, dominant as his own carnal need for release seeps in, and they get a little taste of what Brazzer’s era Tommy was like for a moment.

The three of them come at nearly exactly the same time, orchestrated by the maestro himself. There’s a shared moment of real vulnerability as they let themselves go. He shoots hot ropes of his cum into her pussy from behind when he hears the telltale hiss of liquid shoot out of their sweet sugar, giving her a taste of the divine nectar for the first time. Her cunt milks him fucking dry, her orgasm fluttering for a long moment after the first handful of tight squeezes, and when he slowly begins to slip out, his cock is gleaming in a creamy mixture of both of their releases.

When she finally comes up for air, she’s coated in the other woman’s release and the space between her face and the other woman’s pussy is positively drenched.

Tommy preens at the sight, gently pulling the woman he was fucking up into a sitting position as she falls back against his hard chest. He kisses all over her face, tilting her head to the side so he can chase her lips and taste their partners cum on his tongue. “Did so good, baby. So-so fuckin’ good. M’so proud.” He kisses the tip of her nose before his attention is drawn to their other partner. “Let’s go and give her a well deserved cuddle, shall we, babygirl?” He wiggles his brows playfully as she reaches up to push back his sweaty, messy black curls that have fallen over his face.

They move in a languid motion to settle against either side of the other woman who appears to be in a post-orgasmic haze when she feels two pairs of soft, wet, lips peppering endearing kisses up her arms and to her face.

She giggles, eyes peeking open, glazed over as Tommy gently cups her face and strokes her cheekbone with his thumb.“Did so fuckin’ good for us, sugar. So fuckin’ good. Teacher Tommy is so proud of his star students.” he preens.

She lets out a pleasant sigh, and stretches her legs out, causing her pussy to squelch from the movement, and they laugh at the sound. “That was fucking incredible.” She finally says, catching her breath as Tommy’s free hand slowly wanders down between her thighs. When she feels his fingers drag through her folds, her hips jolt up against his hand and she lets out a soft yelp of surprise.

He chuckles and says, “Easy now, sugar. Jus’ wanted to see the mess you made s’all.” he rasps warmly.

“Jesus, dude!” She laughs and swats at his hand. “I’m fucking sensitive!”

He laughs again, withdrawing his hand and lets it rest on her hip instead. He feigns disappointment as their other partner tucks herself up around her side, draping her arm across her middle. “So does that mean you don’t want my cock?” He teases and she giggles.

“Fuck. I think I’m spent, Teacher Tommy,” she jokingly tacks on the nickname. “Maybe next time?”

“S’alright, sugar. Teacher Tommy understands. And besides, I think it’s snack time anyway. Y’all good with eatin’ out?” He coyly winks at the camera and the girls groan and roll their eyes. “What?! I meant orderin’ pizza s’all.”

Joel is working in his office, the door left open in case anyone needs him. He’s updating their channel page when he hears the familiar sound of Tommy’s footsteps approaching. Tommy is a repeat offender of strolling around the studio naked after a scene, so Joel doesn’t even look away from the screen, just hollers from his seat to avoid being confronted with the image of his brother’s bare cock and balls.

“Boy, if you don’t put on some fuckin’ pants...” He scolds with a tight shake of his head.

The younger Miller brother scoffs playfully and fights the urge to roll his eyes, “What? I just needed to grab my wallet! We're ordering pizza, you want anything?"

Joel pauses his typing as he leans back in his chair before saying, “Yeah, for you to put on some fuckin’ pants, you imbecile.”

“Cool, cool, so extra sausage?” Tommy teases and Joel threatens to throw his pen at him.

“No, you fuckwad. Pepperoni.” He emphasizes, “and none of that thin crust shit, Tommy. I’m serious.”

"I keep tellin' ya, Joel, just give the sausage another chance! You might actually like it!" He winks. “Speakin’ of giving things a chance, I had a proud teachin’ moment back there! Taught one of ‘em to properly eat pussy, and my god, she did fantastic! Even made her squirt!”

“Tommy, I tried it, and I didn’t like it, and I ain’t ever gonna like it.” He huffs before a grin begins to tug on the corner of his lips. “S’that so? Sounds like y’all had a party. Good job, little brother.”

“Oh, we had a party alright. Anyway, extra sausage, and super fuckin’ thin crust, anythin’ else?”

“I swear to god—” Joel threatens but Tommy is quicker than that so before Joel can throw his pen directly at his head, Tommy takes off down the hall gleefully.

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barbiesmuse · 5 months

Text

FINE LINE. ₊˚⊹♡

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + reader

summary: you knew it was over, in fact, it never really began. but in your heart, it was oh-so-real.

tags: introduction to a new series! there is cliffhanger smut and talk of religion but that's mostly all!

head barbie's announcements: i'm back! after a long break that was totally needed because my brain was fried!! my masterlist will be updated, this will be a series so just think of this as the backstory, anddddd that's all! kisses and hugs for u always. if this is offensive or makes anyone uncomfortable i apologize and i will take it down without a problem!! this is just an idea for a fic! if you like it maybe i'll continue! “Am I making you feel sick?”

The hate you had for Simon Riley ran deep. Before you met him you were a good girl. You went to church every Sunday, volunteered to help in youth groups, and were the Priest's daughter. It was a life filled with love, community, and toxicity. Your father had been waiting to auction you off to his favorite usher's son. Your father judged a book by its cover; unfortunately for you, that meant almost no friends.

So when a young man and his mother come to church for the first time, your father is less than thrilled. His mother was known around town, she was a sleaze. She was outgoing, boisterous, and sometimes flirty. Your father called her a jezebel, although you tried to ignore his rude comments and welcome them into the church. Simon's mother thought you were the cutest thing since Polly Pocket, although you didn't quite resemble Polly your tiny stature was often compared to her. Her son, Simon was the complete opposite. He was quiet, shy, and often never spoke. That was comforting to you, everyone in the church always had something to say, except for him. You had tried countless times to invite him to youth groups and asked him for dinner! Your father scolded you, although you didn't care what he thought of the new followers, to you they deserve all the love. Once Simon had gotten to know you more, he had liked you. You were small, and kind, and your big eyes made him groan internally. You were the perfect kind of toy for him to play with. Gullible and bashful. The more you hung around Simon the more worldly you became. Your father took notice and made sure you knew how disappointed he was. Not only did he ground and ban you from seeing your new friend, but he also forced a purity ring onto your hand. Your father was a sick man. There have been many scandals surrounding him. He simply shushed them away with money. His only way out of any bad situation. In a way, Simon reminded you of your father before the church. Loving, caring, and gentle.

You had often snuck out late at night to visit Simon. The two of you would meet up at a park called “Condamnée.” The park was a safe place for both of you. After your father had put the purity ring on you, you needed to speak to Simon. Only he could make your sweet little heart feel better. To say you felt like a sinner would be an understatement. But you couldn't help it. Simon was like a bad habit, something you kept running back to. You didn't know if it was possible to let him go, you felt like there was a strong connection between the two of you. When Simon sees the ring on your pretty finger he can't help but smirk. You looked up at him with teary eyes and he caressed your cheek gently. “You've let a silly little ring get you all worked up like this, peaches?” He would say in a condescending tone. You simply nodded with a pout. What he did next surprised you, but you couldn't ignore the wet feeling in your pink panties as he did it. He slid the ring off of your finger and took off the silver chain he wore. He slid the ring onto the chain and then clasped it around his neck. You looked at him with wide eyes and he simply chuckled. “Oh my gosh, I'm going to hell!” You said with a quiver of your lips. He chuckled and pushed you onto the bench. He bent down in front of you and kissed your ankles.

“Y'r here for a good time, not a long one peaches.” He said as he kissed up your legs. It felt wrong, it was wrong. Yet the feeling of his tongue gracing the inside of your thighs made you squirm. He looked up at you with a sinister smirk. He had his hood on so all you could see were his honey brown eyes and the skull imprint of his mask. Sick. This was sick. You tried to tell yourself to push him away, but you couldn't. He felt too good. As his tongue reached your panties he looked up at you, asking for permission. “Can I touch you, sweet girl?” He asked, you could tell he was practically praying for a yes. So of course, you gave him a soft nod. He looked up at you, the pretty little sinner in front of him. Oh, what a fucking sight.

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mckitterick · 1 year

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The End Is Near: "News" organizations using AI to create content, firing human writers

source: X

an example "story" now comes with this warning:

A new byline showed up Wednesday on io9: “Gizmodo Bot.” The site’s editorial staff had no input or advance notice of the new AI-generator, snuck in by parent company G/O Media.

G/O Media’s AI-generated articles are riddled with errors and outdated information, and block reader comments.

“As you may have seen today, an AI-generated article appeared on io9,” James Whitbrook, deputy editor at io9 and Gizmodo, tweeted. “I was informed approximately 10 minutes beforehand, and no one at io9 played a part in its editing or publication.”

Whitbrook sent a statement to G/O Media along with “a lengthy list of corrections.” In part, his statement said, “The article published on io9 today rejects the very standards this team holds itself to on a daily basis as critics and as reporters. It is shoddily written, it is riddled with basic errors; in closing the comments section off, it denies our readers, the lifeblood of this network, the chance to publicly hold us accountable, and to call this work exactly what it is: embarrassing, unpublishable, disrespectful of both the audience and the people who work here, and a blow to our authority and integrity.”

He continued, “It is shameful that this work has been put to our audience and to our peers in the industry as a window to G/O’s future, and it is shameful that we as a team have had to spend an egregious amount of time away from our actual work to make it clear to you the unacceptable errors made in publishing this piece.”

According to the Gizmodo Media Group Union, affiliated with WGA East, the AI effort has “been pushed by” G/O Media CEO Jim Spanfeller, recently hired editorial director Merrill Brown, and deputy editorial director Lea Goldman.

In 2019, Spanfeller and private-equity firm Great Hill Partners acquired Gizmodo Media Group (previously Gawker Media) and The Onion.

The Writers Guild of America issued a blistering condemnation of G/O Media’s use of artificial intelligence to generate content.

“These AI-generated posts are only the beginning. Such articles represent an existential threat to journalism. Our members are professionally harmed by G/O Media’s supposed ‘test’ of AI-generated articles.”

WGA added, “But this fight is not only about members in online media. This is the same fight happening in broadcast newsrooms throughout our union. This is the same fight our film, television, and streaming colleagues are waging against the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) in their strike.”

The union, in its statement, said it “demands an immediate end of AI-generated articles on G/O Media sites,” which include The A.V. Club, Deadspin, Gizmodo, Jalopnik, Jezebel, Kotaku, The Onion, Quartz, The Root, and The Takeout.

but wait, there's more:

Just weeks after news broke that tech site CNET was secretly using artificial intelligence to produce articles, the company is doing extensive layoffs that include several longtime employees, according to multiple people with knowledge of the situation. The layoffs total 10 percent of the public masthead.

Greedy corporate sleazeballs using artificial intelligence are replacing humans with cost-free machines to barf out garbage content.

This is what end-stage capitalism looks like: An ouroborus of machines feeding machines in a downward spiral, with no room for humans between the teeth of their hungry gears.

Anyone who cares about human life, let alone wants to be a writer, should be getting out the EMP tools and burning down capitalist infrastructure right now before it's too late.

#artificial intelligence #journalism #writing #disasters #the end times #late stage capitalism

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year

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Second Thoughts

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 4.2k words

Summary: Weeks before their wedding, one of them might have second thoughts.

A/N: For days, I have been haunted by this picture of Pedro wearing gold chains and I needed to write this to keep myself from exploding. It’s Pedro’s fault. And I chose Javi for the fic because that slut always has like the first 3 buttons of his shirts undone (like a whore, jezebel, harlot) and it drives me mad to see his neck. Anyway, enjoy 😉

“What’s this?” He took the cigarette back between his fingers to ask. It was his customary post-sex smoke. Something he couldn’t give up on, much like his customary workplace smoke, road rage smoke, morning smoke, post-lunch smoke— you got the idea.

“A dildo.”

Javi looked up at her, eyebrows raised and lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t as impressed by her attempt at a joke as she was. But then again, the man was known for his eternal grumpy face. He could be offered a lifetime supply of free whiskey and he would still look like someone ran his dog over.

She rolled her eyes at him. For a man employed by the US government to go after Pablo Escobar, he sure was dumb.

“What does it look like, Pendejo? It’s a gold chain. For you. Happy birthday,” she snapped, pushing the present into his hands.

His brown eyes softened as he took her hand and rubbed circles on her wrist with his thumb. “Querida…you shouldn’t be spending all this money on me. I don’t even wear jewelry.”

“It’s a gift, Javier. And I know you don’t wear jewelry. I just think you should be.”

“Oh?” He asked, head tilted and eyebrows knitting together in curiosity.

“Mhmm. Let me explain to you in terms that your male brain would understand,” she said, getting on her knees on their bed and setting them on either side of his thighs. He looked incredibly beautiful in the dim lighting of their bedroom, golden skin made more gold by the warm streetlights. His hand that was not holding his present came up to her back, his touch gentle despite the rough calluses he’d earned with his years on the force.

She brought her index finger to his chest and traced his collarbones. He had beautiful skin, no matter the scars and the sunspots from all his days running around in the Medellin streets under the sun.

“Seeing you wearing a gold chain would do to me what seeing me in lingerie does to you. It’s like a little sneak peek of what’s inside, you know? Especially because you are a slut who forgets that the top three buttons of your shirts exist and I can see your chest all the goddamn time. It’s a little tease of what lies underneath.”

“Ahh…”

“Finally. He gets it.”

“‘s like seeing your lace bra and a bit of cleavage. I like the cleavage more, but the lace adds to it,” he said, hand lazily grazing the curve of her ass. There was nothing sexual about it or their nudity. They’d already gone at it like rabbits and were done for the night. But it was good to stay bare with him, her lack of urge to cover up adding to the easy intimacy they slipped into post sex.

“Exactly,” she said, taking the gold chain from him. She straddled his lap and looped the gift around his neck before clasping the ends together. He watched quietly, his stoic expression cracking through to reveal a smile when she pulled him towards herself by the chain.

Through lazy pecks of her lips, he said, “So it’s a leash, I see?”

“Maybe,” she smiled as she pulled away. She licked her lips as she took in the sight of him, congratulating herself mentally. It looked better on him than she thought it would. His body was already fucking perfect, well-toned, but the chain made it sexier somehow. The way it sat around his neck and bent when it touched his clavicle, the light hitting it beautifully to highlight it against the pink flush of his skin.

“Looks good,” she added, fingering the cold metal.

“If you say so, Jefa,” he said before taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Well I do say so,” she said, reaching to the back and pulling the pendant to the front to rest on his chest. He looked down at the pendant, eyebrows raised as though surprised to find it there. He took it between his fingers and squinted at the letters engraved on it. Her initials.

“Marking me, I see?”

“Sure… You gave me a diamond ring and I felt bad I didn’t give you anything, so…”

“It’s not traditional for women to give their fiancé something. You didn’t have to feel bad.”

“I know,” she said, tracing her initials.

“Hmm, can’t wait until the wedding to let everyone know I’m taken?”

“Suuure,” she said, rolling her eyes before getting off his lap and sitting next to him. “If that makes you feel better about being tied down to one woman forever, Javier.”

“It’s a woman who lets me tie her down to my bed, so…” he trailed, brushing his mustache with him thumb and giving her a once over.

“You sound worried…” he said, turning to get a better view of her. She kept her eyes on her lap, afraid that looking at him would be confirmation in his eyes if this worry he’d caught so easily.

She wasn’t worried. Or so she liked to think. When he got on one knee, she was a little surprised. One, they’d only been dating for a year. Two, she didn’t think he was the marrying kind. The first words out of her mouth weren’t Oh my God or a resounding Yes. It was a hesitant Are you sure?

When she visited his hometown Laredo with him to meet his Papa and his extended family and friends, she had more reason for unease. A neighbor just not so casually dropped the secret that he’d once been engaged to someone else, someone he left at the altar before moving to Colombia.

“You’re so brave, giving our Javi a chance after what he did to poor Lorraine.”

“What did he do to…? Who is Lorraine?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Figures. She was his fiancée. Left her at the altar. The poor girl.”

Lorraine had reassured her that everything was alright, even implying that she was glad she didn’t have the bad luck of ending up with Javier. It was an immature Javier from many years ago, she’d said as much. He wouldn’t do that again. He made mistakes, but never made the same mistake twice. Or that is what she told herself. It didn’t stop her from thinking of the worst case scenarios— Javi leaving her at the altar, a future divorce, Javi getting bored with her and cheating. He wasn’t the cheating kind despite his reputation as a manwhore. But rational thought never stopped anxieties.

“You sure you want to get married?” She asked, letting her insecurity shine through. It was better than the alternative.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” he said, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “It’s good you asked me because I didn’t even think about that when I took a good chunk of my savings and spent it on a diamond ring that lost half its value once I left the store. I just bought it on a whim and had no choice but to get on one knee, profess my undying love for you in the restaurant we met and ask you to marry me.”

You asked Lorraine too!

She swallowed her words, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“Are you sure? Because this isn’t the first time you’re asking me that,” he said, the sarcastic tone finally leaving for a more serious one. She nodded and when he looked unconvinced, she said, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“I know I haven’t given much time into planning a proper wedding. It’s not that I don’t want one,” he said, taking her left hand and playing with her engagement ring. “It’d be nice, with both our families there. But it’ll take time and I just can’t wait. It’s a dangerous job, you know that. And you decided to be with me anyway.”

His other hand cupped her cheek, his brown eyes revealing the depth of his heart for once. There was always a softness to them with their deep color and the downward turn of their outer corners.

“If I’m going to keep you in danger by virtue of being attached to me, I figured I should take the plunge, commit fully. If… I know it’s not great to hear it, but…” he sighed before rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. “If something were to happen to me, I want you to be my next of kin. For any medical decisions, visitation rights, survivor benefits if…You wouldn’t have those rights over me if I was just your boyfriend.”

“If that’s the only reason you’re marrying me…”

“Of course not. I’m marrying you because I know I want to spend my life with you. But if this isn’t the life you want…the danger, the anxiety, the missed anniversaries and birthdays,” he said pausing before he continued, “potential of widowhood.”

Her hand closed around his and he held her back, his hold tight and reassuring in its firmness. She pulled her trembling bottom lip between her teeth and leaned into his chest. “If you have any doubts, there is still time.” She heard him swallow before he spoke again. “I’m willing to make more time if you need it. We could push the wedding, you can take as long as you need. It’s a big ask— marriage. So if you want to say…if you want to change your mind, you have every right. I won’t… no hard feelings.”

“Pobrecito…” she cooed before placing a kiss on his forehead. “I don’t have doubts. And I’m not going to change my mind.”

She felt him exhale. His eyes closed and he nodded. “Okay.”

“It would be too late anyway. Had I thought of it before we started dating, when it was just sex…maybe I would’ve left you,” she chuckled, fidgeting with the loose threats coming off their thin blanket. “But I’m in too deep now. The damage to my soul in leaving you would be far greater than anything that could happen if we stayed together. We hit a point of no return long back and now I just can’t be without you.”

Something like gratitude crossed his deep brown eyes. His eyebrows raised and his tight expressions softened. His large hand came up to cradle her face. “I can’t be without you,” he echoed, voice rich with emotion. His thumb traced her bottom lip before he leaned in. She kissed him eagerly, gentle yet passionate as they poured their anxieties and fears into the kiss. Slow and languid pecks decorated her lips and then her face.

“I was lying…”

“Hmm?”

“When I said there would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind. I was lying.”

She chuckled against his lips, placing one last kiss before pulling away. “Oh yeah?” She asked and he nodded. He held her close, not allowing her to leave his embrace.

“I would be so upset.”

“Good to know,” she said, curling a finger around his gold chain and pulling him close. His lips stretched into a grin and he gladly went where she took him. He leaned in, hoping for a kiss, but she dropped his chain and pushed him off by his chest. He raised an eyebrow at her and she simply smiled.

“You look so handsome when you smile,” she said, bringing her thumb up to his mustache, caressing the prickly hairs.

“Mhmm?” He asked, his smile morphing into a smirk. She slapped his cheek lightly and he laughed before he flipped it to a frown. “Not like that. Don’t look smug.”

“My naked wife is on my bed telling me I’m handsome and I’m not supposed to look smug?”

“Wife?” She squinted at him. “I’m not your wife yet. Keep that smug smile up and I might change my mind.”

“Oh? Didn’t you just say you weren’t changing your mind? That you were in too deep for that.”

“Yeah, that was before I realized I was marrying a liar. You kiss your fiancée with that lying mouth, Javier?”

“Oh I do more than kiss her with my lying mouth,” he quipped before getting off the bed and pulling her down the bed by her ankles. She squealed at the sudden movement, lifting her head up to find him on his knees on the floor by her legs.

The smug smile she asked him to get rid of was present and glowing more than ever. He spread her legs wider than necessary. His eyes narrowed at where her thighs met and he licked his lips, sending a shiver through her. It was maddening, the effect he had on her. She’d had him multiple times in several different positions that night. She’d put on lingerie and taken him over and over until he couldn’t anymore, until her body was covered in evidence of his presence and satisfaction settled in her heart. But here she was, a mere half hour later, desiring him again.

Spread out obscenely for him, his wide chest in between her legs, she wondered how she looked to him. If it really was such a sight that it made his eyes glaze over with lust.

“Mi esposa… Estás tan guapa así,” he praised, peppering kisses up her thigh. Her heart beat for him, faster and faster with each kiss that brought his lips closer to where she needed him most. She brought a hand to his messy curls, caressing the strands she’d pulled at just a little while back.

She groaned as he moved to her other thigh, skipping her pussy that was dripping anew with her arousal, blending with both their cum from when they last made love. He dipped a finger in, coating the tip white before bringing it between his lips.

“We taste so fucking good together, baby,” he said, pushing his finger in, deeper this time. Her pussy squelched from its wetness as he pushed in and out, the white liquid flowing out of her. He bent his head down between her legs, licking up her excess, not wasting a drop of it. He gave her a few pumps before he withdrew, making her whine.

Hovering over her, he smeared the liquid on her swollen lips. His birthday present hung from his neck, gravity bringing the cold metal into contact with her own neck. God, this was what she was hoping for when she bought it for him.

Before she could lick her lips, he brought his pretty pink ones to hers. She moaned, both from the sensation of his lips on hers and the realization of how dirty it was to be kissing with their cum from between her legs coating her lips. The man was certainly creative in the plans he cooked up to defile her. There were men who refused to even kiss her after she sucked their cock and there was Javi, tasting his own release on her lips.

She parted her lips for him, allowing his tongue to glide in. She moaned into his mouth as she tasted their combined release on his lips and his tongue. She played with his hair, untangling the knots she’d left there from tugging at it. The smell of sex filled her senses as he pulled back and breathed out of his mouth. One hand played with her breast, covered in bite marks and hickeys from his greed, while the other reached back between her legs and fucked her with two fingers instead of one, his large digits stretching her out in preparation for him.

“So fucking gorgeous, fuuuck!” He cursed, taking in her expressions as he circled her clit. “Thought I’d just taste you again. But you got me hard again. What’s this, round four for the night? Look what you do to me,” he said, taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock. He guided her hand up and down his hardening cock, making her stroke his length in his hand.

“Have me fuckin’ addicted to this cunt, baby. You can’t have second thoughts now. You’re not allowed, not even if I say you can rethink this. You think I’ll let go of pussy this good? Hmm?” He asked, withdrawing from her pussy and bringing his fingers up to his lips. He plunged them between his lips and licked it up with a moan. “Don’t be fooled by how good I take care of you. I’m a selfish man. You can’t give me aaaall this,” he said, hands roaming her body and stopping to knead her breasts. “and think I’ll be all selfless and give it up.”

She shivered from his words and arched into his touch, pushing her tits into his hands. “I was being kind and fucking stupid ‘cause I thought you might want to reconsider marriage. But I’ve got you, don’t I?” He taunted, collecting what was left of them from between her legs before bringing his fingers up to her line of sight.

“I’ve got you, all for myself. No woman who comes like this for her man will think of settling for anything else,” he said before smearing it on her face. She stroked his cock faster, relishing in how he screwed his eyes shut from her touches. She brought her thumb up to the tip of his cock, swiping up the bead of precum. She brought it to her lips and tasted him, maintaining eye-contact with the man hovering over him.

“All mine… Look at you, so fucking filthy with cum on your face. You do that for your boyfriends?” He mocked, putting down all the other men she’d let touch her before him. She shook her head, speechless as she devoured what was in front of her. She lined him up with her cunt, allowing him to push in. The fervor of his words sunk into her with his cock and she wrapped around him, warm, wet and greedy.

He was fucking beautiful— messy ink black hair falling over his forehead, soft brown eyes, neatly trimmed mustache, pretty pink lips and her initials in a gold rectangle swinging from his neck. She reached up and pushed his hair back and placed a kiss on his forehead. He didn’t always understand words, was stunned by her confessions of love, of the need to spend eternity in his arms. She knew he struggled with words, saw how much courage it took him to say I love you the first few times he did. Te quiero came easy to him, having grown up saying the words to his parents, but te amo was like moving a boulder uphill.

He spoke words of love with much more ease now, he told her he couldn’t wait the duration it took to plan a wedding to finally be her husband, told her he wanted her to be his next of kin, that she could change her mind even though he didn’t want her to. He made himself better with words. For her. Because he knew when she smiled at her book it was because of a ‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you’. When she read to him ‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more’, his breath hitched as he asked her to read the sentence once again before he confessed it was how he felt about her.

While he’d gotten so much better with his words, she liked to meet him in the middle, speak his language- touch. He understood touch— her gentle hand pushing his hair back and her lips on his forehead. He understood her hips rising up to meet his slow thrusts.

“‘Y’know, fiancée pussy is good. Better than girlfriend pussy. Bet married pussy will be miles better,” he said, making her tighten around him. “You like thinking about that? When you’re all mine to do with as I wish…”

“You need a piece of—” she stopped to hiss from how his body made contact with her clit. “Y-you need papers from the fucking government to make me all yours? Thought you didn’t go by the books, Agent Peña. You are already mine, husband or not. You’ve been mine since I— hnnng!” Her words devolved into muddled sounds as he forced himself in her harder.

“Can’t talk? I shut that mouth up, huh? Try to say you might not marry me and I’ll shut you up just like this,” he scolded, pinching her nipple between his fingers and letting go to knead her breast in his large hand. “Pissed me off so bad, I wanna drag you to the fucking embassy right now and make you my fucking wife.”

His thrusts grew harder and his dangling necklace swung back and forth, grazing her chin before swinging away only to hit right back. Exactly what she pictured. It was a pretty sight, forehead covered in sweat, errant locks of hair sticking to it and eyes glazed with lust, all for her. She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his back and pulling him closer to herself as she struggled to meet the vigor of his thrusts. As much as she wanted him, she wasn’t as fit as a man who hunted other men for a living.

His physical prowess thrilled her, made her writhe underneath him. She ran her nails down his back, preparing him for how she would sink them into his back once again when he brought her to her peak. His muscles felt glorious under her fingers. She visualized each bulge and dip, pictured them with the scars she’d already left on his back and the scars she would give him. She moved her hand to his shoulder and then down his arm, licking her lips as it registered how fucking muscular he was, how he could crush her with them but chose instead to hold her, to love her.

As his thrusts grew more erratic and his breathing uneven, she knew he was getting close. His chain went from swinging against her to resting on her as he lied atop her and his thrusts got short. She moaned at the weight of him, aroused by how bulky he was. So beautiful and so goddamn muscular and all hers. He buried his face in her neck and filled her up with his cum, moaning her name before crumbling on top of her.

She felt him softening inside her. He slowly came to, kissing her neck before sliding down her body.

“What’re you doing?” She mumbled, fatigue settling into her worn out body. He looked up from where he slithered down, eyes still ferocious with hunger. How the fuck was this man still horny?

“Still haven’t shown you what else I do with my lying mouth,” he said, kissing down her belly and stopping at her cunt to give it a lick. She shuddered.

“Baby, ‘m sleepy…”

“‘s okay, you sleep. I’ll just get a taste here. Need to make you come.”

“You’ve made me cum many times already. I’m perfectly content.”

“I’m not. I need this pussy again,” he begged, flattening his tongue against her cunt. She hissed, sensitive from their night of passion, but grabbed him by his hair and pushed herself up into his face. “Thank you, ma’am,” he groaned into her, making her giggle.

“You’re such a whore, Javier,” she teased, still laughing. He gave her one more lick before he looked up at her with a shit-eating grin.

“You know what they say- you can take a man out of a whore but you can never take whore out of a man.”

“What does that even mean?” She asked, chest rising and falling from laughter.

“It means…” he trailed before licking his cum dripping out of her. He moved to her clit and sucked it between his lips, the pressure having her whining. Her hips jutted up instinctively, but he pushed her back down to the bed with a firm yet gentle hand on her belly. A minute of licking and sucking from his expert mouth and she came undone for him, thighs shaking and back arching before she fell back on the bed. He placed one final kiss on her mound before he lied back neck to her.

Javier and their blanket wrapped around her, she sighed in contentment.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

“Oh…” she said, trying to not let her frown show. She’d planned a fun day out for him because he was supposed to have this Sunday off. Sightseeing, birthday cake and more birthday sex. But their plans were always written in water.

“I’m expecting intel from Helena tomorrow,” he said, caressing her arm. “If I’m right, if what she says matches my suspicions, the guys and I will join Carillo in Medellin. If things go well, I won’t be home until right before the wedding.”

“Well, then I better not see your ass in Bogota before our wedding day,” she said, earning herself a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“Thank you…umm, for the gift. I… it’s nice,” he membled awkwardly. His arms pulled her in tighter and his lips pressed on her temple before she gave in to sleep. When she woke up, there was no evidence of the passions of her night other than the rumpled sheets and the soreness between her legs.

Series Masterlist

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fic #javier peña fluff #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier peña x ofc #javier peña x you #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x y/n #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #domestic javier peña #javier pena narcos #narcos smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #all that i've inflicted on the world

831 notes · View notes

bravo4iscool · 9 months

Text

idk why but i kinda loved this retired!reader and retired!simon (all platonic) thing i blurted out. i just had to write something else for it😭

platonic ghost x reader, just a little blurb, retired!simon, retired!reader, fatherfigure!simon (?), prolly ooc simon, mentions of PTSD and (very very very slightly) hinted torture (only if you squint really hard, i swear), reader is inspired by those house climbing parcour people lol

readers call sign is ‚kid‘ :)

(masterlist | old man masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

„How‘s your injury?“ Simon carefully asks when you sit down beside him with a quiet groan. „I don’t think this whole climbing is good for it.“

You frown and look at him. „What injury? I‘m perfectly fine.“ Did he know things you didn‘t?

Now he‘s the one frowning, eying you up and down. „Price told us you were discharged because of reoccurring problems with your knee.“

You stare at him, swallowing. You told Price to tell them the truth… Looks like he didn‘t. Well, fuck. „I…wasn‘t discharged because of injury Simon,“ you tell him, avoiding his gaze and fidgeting with your hands.

That didn‘t help him ease the confusion. „Well, why were you discharged then?“ He straightens up a bit, tilting his head to look into your eyes but you keep avoiding him.

„I…have PTSD. That‘s- that‘s why I‘ve been discharged. They tried to treat it but…but it was nearly impossible. That’s why I—and they—decided to end my military career.“ You took a deep breath, staring at your hands. Now the cat was out of the bag. No way back…

„How long?“

„Operation Jezebel,“ you gulp out, afraid of his reaction. The moment you joined 141 Simon‘s kept an eye on you and made sure you were okay—off and during deployment. He was older, more experienced than you and your Lieutenant. It was natural to make sure you return back home in once piece.

His eyes widen, staring at you in shock. He takes a deep breath and folds his hands in his lap. „Why didn‘t you say anything. That was eight years ago!“

„And I was fresh with the team!“ you argue, trying to hide your shaking hands. „I had just reached my dream, I didn‘t care about my health.“

„You should‘ve said something!“ Simon slightly raises his voice and you feel like your back in the barracks being shouted at by him because you didn‘t listen to his orders.

You throw your hands in the air, jumping up from your seat. „But I didn‘t, okay? I was afraid of being kicked out!“ You turn to stare at him, being hit with a wave of shock when you see his glistening eyes.

Simon doesn‘t say anything for the moment but instead stands up to walk towards you. „You wouldn‘t have been kicked out, Kid,“ he says in a gentle voice you weren’t used to. „I would‘ve made sure of that…“ He doesn‘t wait for your answer, only takes you into his arms and keeps you close.

He hated to say—even think—it but sometimes you reminded him of Tommy… You were like his little sibling…

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #call of duty #simon riley #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader

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celiawrites14 · 2 months

Text

Revelation S.R.

Summary: based on the Criminal Minds episode Revelation (2x15)

Y/N Hotcher (Little Hotch) x eventual Spencer Reid

Warnings: angst, Spencer being tortured, Tobias Henkel, usual Criminal Minds stuff?, swearing, reader/I being really angry at the world because she loves Spencer but won't admit it, friends to lovers, emotions, idk if I am missing anything

LONG AF AND NOT PROOFED

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where’s Spencer?” I asked, looking around the farm. “And JJ?”

“I don’t know, come check out the barn with me and Prentiss.” Morgan told me. We made our way to the barn and when we opened it, JJ pointed her gun at us, eyes wild.

There was a lot of commotion with trying to get JJ to lower her gun. I noticed the dead dogs. Jezebel. Oh God.

“Tobias Henkel is the unsub.” JJ told us once she realized it was us.

“We know,” I said gently.

“We just thought he was a witness. I had to kill them.” She said referring to the dogs. I glanced at the dead animals again and rubbed my temples. “There’s nothing left.”

“JJ, where’s Spencer?” I asked her but she didn’t answer me.

“JJ, look at me,” Prentiss prompted. JJ focused on her. “Where’s Reid?”

“Oh, uh, we split up. He went around back.”

I ran back outside to tell Dad and Gideon that we found JJ but not Spencer.

"Dad,” I called, running up to him. “Dad, JJ was in the barn, but Spencer’s not.”

“We searched the rest of the property and the house and he’s not there either. Neither is Henkel.”

“So,” I gulped, looking at my dad. “So where’s Spencer?”

“I don’t know. But we will find him.” Dad promised me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was standing with JJ and Emily by the ambulance while they checked JJ out.

“Hey, any sign of him?” Prentiss asked Morgan and he shook his head.

"You can't find Reid?" JJ asked, confused.

"Not yet," Prentiss told her.

"Prentis, Little Hotch." Derek pulled us away from JJ. "I think Reid followed him into the cornfield, it looks likes somebody got dragged." I rubbed my temple, trying to push away the stress migraine that was impounding.

"Hey, what's going on?" Prentiss asked the officer who just got off the phone.

"The sheriff two towns over. He just gave directions to a man who fit Henkel's description. It's to a motor lodge in Fort Bend."

"Let's get Hotch and Gideon." Morgan said and I went back to JJ.

After hours of not finding Spencer, morning came which brought Penelope too.

"You know they do have hotels in Georgia." She told me and Aaron.

"There's no sense splitting time between here and a field office." He told her, ushering her into the house.

"Right." She agreed warily, looking around the property.

"Think of the house as a witness," He explained to her. "If it could talk, what would it tell us?"

"My guess is it would tell us to get the hell out." She responded.

We made our wait into the main living room and JJ greeted Penelope with, "Welcome to our nightmare."

"His computer is an extension of his brain," Gideon told her. "I need you to dissect it."

"I'll get you set up, come on." Derek told her, taking her to where the computers were at.

"I'll come with," I mumbled, walking past my dad and everybody else, to go with Penelope and Morgan.

The rest of our team filled Dad in on everything, but there was no evidence pointing where Spencer and the unsub could be.

"Okay, right out the gate, the guy is self taught." Penelope told us. "His mainframe is totally idiosyncratic, but it's pretty brilliant."

"Talk to me about what this son of a bitch watches online. What the hell is all of this?" Morgan told her, trying his best to figure out the computers and how we could use it to help us know Henkel better.

"It's tame stuff, video games, software sports. Seriously, if I had to guess whose system this belongs to, I would say a crazy smart high school kid."

"Well clearly it's not Penelope. Can you please find us something that will help us find Spencer?" I snapped before walking out the room and back outside.

I hated this. How could Spencer have gotten so far away so fast? Where the hell was he being held? Please God, I begged, please bring him back to me. Please. I hadn't prayed in years, especially with my mom and dad fighting, but I knew we had a slim chance at getting Spencer back, and God was probably the only person to bring him to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey guys!" Morgan called to us, I looked up at him from where I was sitting with Gideon on the steps. "I think I got something."

I ran over to where he was and he found a cellar.

I pulled out my gun as Morgan opened the door. "Tobias Henkel, FBI!" Dad and I followed him inside. We got our flashlights out and searched the ice cellar. "Tobias Henkel! Tobias!"

Dad moved closer to the unmoving body. "I think we just found Henkel's father." Well, shit.

We made our way out of the cellar and let CSI do their thing while we went back into the house.

"You need to get some sleep." Gideon told me and I rolled my eyes. "Sometimes it felt like I had two dads between Hotch and Gideon.

"I'm fine."

"When was the last time you slept?" JJ asked me.

"When was the last time for you?" I snapped back, my anger seeping through. I wanted to find Spencer. I wanted him back.

"Y/N, you need to get some sleep." Dad told me and I stomped my foot.

"Is that an order?" I demanded, looking my dad square in the face.

"Yeah, it is." He shot back and I threw my gun on the table, making JJ jump at the noise. I went into the living room and grabbed my blanket and my dad's pillow from the corner and laid on the floor to take a nap. There was no way in hell I was sleeping on any of the furniture here. After a few minutes, I felt JJ come sit by me, resting her back against the couch.

"I'm sorry." She muttered.

"I'm sorry too." I muttered back.

"I'm so stressed out that I can't sleep." She admitted after a few minutes.

"I can't either. I just want to find him." I relented.

"I saw you guys, at the club. You danced."

"Liquid courage fixes a lot of the world's problems. Sometimes."

"You guys would be cute together."

"You must be sleep deprived."

"I know what I saw at the club. You both like each other, you're practically dating anyways, why not just make it official?" And with that thought running through my brain, I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morgan just told me that he thinks the stressor is the father's death, which happened about six months ago." Dad told me and Gideon as we sifted through the papers.

"So basically he has split personality disorder?" I banged my head on the table.

"This journal is filled with religious ramblings." Morgan told us, coming into the room with the journal. "He notates hour by hour. November 15th, 3:17 - if ye offer a sacrifice of peace offering unto the Lord, ye shall offer it at your own will. And it goes on and on. 5:04, 7:41, 10:22, 1:42. But then it goes blank for days."

Morgan handed me the journal and I looked at it, getting a sense of who Henkel was. Dad put a hand on his head, thinking. "Maybe he got sick of writin'," The sheriff suggested.

"I think I got it," Dad said, and I looked at him hopefully.

"What is it?" Gideon asked him.

"Yeah, Dad, what did you figure out?"

"Journal entry - December 6th - father sick, wants me to put him down. I say, "Thou shalt not kill," He says, "Honor thy father." Must pray for guidance." Oh. So he killed his dad...

Before I could finish my thought, Gideon interrupted. "So he kills his father as an act of mercy?"

"Some sick sort of mercy." I muttered, flipping through the journal in my hand before giving it back to Morgan.

"This is two months ago. Tobias Henkel's father had been dead for four months already." Dad told us.

"That's exactly it. Look at the floor," Morgan told us, pulling a chair out for us to see. "These scuff marks are fresh." He was right, they were. "I mean it's like two people were moving the chairs constantly, trying to fight for control."

"So?" The sheriff asked.

"This journal matches Charles Henkel's handwriting, but it was written after he died. Upstairs, Tobias' bedroom - it's got junk puled from the floor to the ceiling, but the other bedroom could pass a military inspection." Morgan explained.

"So are you telling me, one of Tobias' personalities was his father?" The sheriff asked, trying to make sense of this situation.

"Well," Gideon put in, "Tobias was raised with a strict religious code - black and white - right and wrong. When his father asked Tobias to kill him, something had to give."

"And his brain couldn't handle the moral contradiction, so it split into two personalities." Dad said.

"To keep his father alive." I finished.

"So... who is Raphael?" The sheriff asked, confused.

"My guess - he's a mediator between the two. Angels have no human emotions. Live or die, they don't care, as long as it's God's will."

"We need to start profiling Tobias' father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

"I'll get Penelope on it." I said, standing up and walking to the computer room.

"Pen, I need you to log into the system as Tobias' father."

"The system was set up three months ago. The dad was already dead."

"She knows that, smarty pants, but do it for your favorites anyway, alright?" Morgan said, coming in behind me.

"Okay," Penelope said, starting to type.

"Charles Henkel." Derek told her.

Tons of horrifying imagines and videos showed up on the screen. I closed my eyes and cracked my neck. This was going to be bad.

"Woah," Penelope said trying to take it all in.

"He's crazy." I mumbled. "Like crazy crazy. I can't imagine having split personalities, let alone, one of them be insane."

After a few minutes of Penelope trying to do her thing, the computers went blank.

"What happened?" Morgan asked her, confused.

She wasn't much help because she was equally confused. "I don't know?"

"What do you mean, you don't know?" I demanded, scared.

All of a sudden on most of the screens, Spencer showed up. He was bound to a chair beaten and bloodied.

"Oh my god." Penelope said, taking the words straight from my mouth.

"Guys! Guys!" Morgan shouted to the team. "Get in here!"

"He's been beaten." Prentiss said, assessing him.

"Can't you track him?" JJ asked, confused. I put a hand over my mouth, trying to remain composed.

"Henkel's only streaming this to his home computer." Penelope told them.

"This is for us, for Y/N, he knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick." Morgan spat, angry.

"Why can't you locate him?" Dad asked Penelope.

"He's rerouting to a different I.P Address every thirty seconds. I can't track him."

"Can you really see inside men's minds?" Tobias asked Spencer. "See these vermin. Choose one to die. I'll let you choose one to live."

"No," I gasped at Spencer'svoice.

"I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior." Tobias said.

"You're a sadist ina psychotic break. You won't stop killing. Your word's not true." Spencer told him, trying to snap him out of the personality he was in. Tobias was either Raphael or his father at the moment.

"The other heathens are watching. That whore of yours, she's watching. Choose a sinner to die, and I'll say the name and address of the person to be saved."

"I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like poacher." Playing into the fantasy. Good job, Spence, I thought.

"Can you really see into my mind, boy?" Tobias demanded lifting Spencer out of the chair. I gasped audibly, grabbing onto Gideon's arm. "Can you see I'm not a liar?" He yelled. "Choose one to die, and save a life. Otherwise, they're all dead."

"Alright," Spencer gave in, not wanting more people than necessary to die. "I'll choose who lives."

"They're all the same." Tobias spat at him.

"Far right screen." Spencer finally said.

"Marilyn David, 4913 Walnut Creed Road." Tobias said.

"You got that?" Dad asked Penelope.

"Yeah." She said, typing her fastest on the computer.

Gideon typed the phone number on a phone and it dialed.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end said.

"Marilyn David. My name is Jason Gideon. I'm with the FBI."

"What?" She said alarmed, Gideon told her to turn her computer off immediately and she did so.

"You're Raphael." Spencer said. Before anything else could happen, the screen went dark. Morgan walked out of the room, angry, and punched the door. I gripped JJ's hand hard, needing the contact to stay grounded.

"So now what? We wait for a 911 call, and hope we get there in time?" The sheriff asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the next victims were killed, Dad, Gideon and I went to the crime scene.

"Slaughtered, same as the others. We've got roadblocks for a fifteen mile radius. Every unit's on the road, but so far nothing." I pushed the stray hairs out of my face and looked at the crime scene.

"I don't know how much longer Reid can hold out," Dad said quietly, giving in to his fear that Spencer might not make it.

"Who were the victims?" Gideon asked, ignoring Dad.

"Pam and Mike Hayes. He was a local defense attorney."

"And what Bible passage was left?" Gideon asked another question. I went and stood next to him.

"Isaiah 59. No one calls for justice, "no one pleads their case with integrity. They rely on empty arguments, they utter lies they conceive trouble and give birth to evil."

Gideon got close to the camera, "Reid, if you're watching, you're not responsible for this. You understand me? He's perverting God to justify murder. You are strong than him. He cannot break you."

"We're not getting any closer." Dad told us.

"Reid's brilliant. He'll figure out how to survive." Gideon said, trying to reassure us, himself included.

"You know, I always take advantage of Reid for his brain, but I never actually teach him how to deal with things emotionally."

"Lead by example." Gideon responded.

"What kind of example is that?" Dad asked.

"He'll make it."

"He has to." I whispered. "He has to make it." God, I prayed. Bring him back to me. Please just bring him back to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We can trace their whole family history." Morgan said, looking at the evidence board we made up. "Here we got happy, smiling pictures of Tobias. Report cards all As and Bs, but as an eight year old, we get nothing."

"That's his mother leaving." Prentiss said from her spot next to me. "Six months later, on the other side of the board, we have a form from child services saying they paid a visit."

"Then Charles starts keeping journals about punishing sinners and needing to remove the devil from his son." I added. "Which corresponds to Tobias' drug use. He's trying to escape."

"So wherever Reid is, it was Tobias' choice, not this fathers." Morgan told us.

"How do you figure?" Prentiss asked him.

"Look at these two lives." Morgan pointed out. "They're like inverse graphs. One's getting weaker while the other one's getting angrier. Tobias would run away, his father would have stood and fought."

"Okay, so Tobias uses drugs as an escape. I'll go back through the journals with Y/N and see if we can find anything connecting his drug use to a hiding place."

"Uh, where's Gideon?" JJ asked walking into the room.

"He's upstairs. Why? What's going on?" Morgan asked her. JJ glanced at me before responding.

"Henkel's jut posted the latest murder."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We all gathered in the computer room to watch. It was horrific. Absolutely horrific. In everyway imaginable.

"I don't understand, why can't we just shut it down?" Gideon asked, pacing, confused by technology.

"Because I can't pinpoint his IPF." Penelope tried to explain.

"Just remove it once he sends it." Jason told her.

"It doesn't work like that." I said. "It's the internet."

"It's the internet, sir. Like Y/N said. Once something's out there, you can never take it back."

"It must remain. You can't undo anything."

"Right, you can't once it's up. Once it's up, it's up forever."

"I hate technology. Can you please do something? Anything? I do not want him thinking he has a pulpit."

"I have a list of everyone from the file-sharing chain. I could send out a mass warning that the video is actually a virus. I'm gonna do that. Okay." Penelope sent it out.

After a few moments, Tobias, as Charles, started streaming live again. "Do you think you can defy me?" Tobias said.

"I don't know what he's talking about." Spencer pleaded with him.

"You're a liar! You're pitiful! Just like my son. This ends now." I gasped when he pulled the gun on Spencer. "Confess your sins. Confess!" He hit Spencer in the face, making me cry out.

"I haven't don anything! Tobias, help me!" Spencer begged. I covered my mouth, tears streaming down my face.

"He can't help you. He's weak." Tobias, as Charles, said to him.

"Tobias!" Spencer cried.

"Confess your sins!" Tobias, as Charles, demanded again.

"Help!"

"Oh my god. He's killing him." Penelope said. I put the other hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my cries as Spencer started choking and the chair toppled over with him in it. He was dying. Actually dying.

Gideon stormed out and Dad, Prentiss, JJ and Morgan raced in. I hugged Dad tightly as Penelope explained what happened. Dad pulled away and went to get Gideon. I continued to silently cry. God, please, please save him. Let him come back to me. Please. I kept praying it over and over in my head, hoping He was listening.

Tobias came back into the room and started performing CPR on Spencer. Eventually after a few rounds, Spencer started coughing and breathing. I let out a strangled cry before clamping my mouth shut.

"Wait, wait a second." Prentiss said. "When was the last video posted?"

"9:23." Penelope responded.

"And - and what was the time of death?" She asked.

"The 911 call came in at 9:04 and the murder must have been moments later." Dad told her.

"That's only a 19 minute difference!" I said, looking over at JJ who nodded.

"How long would it take to post the mpeg?" Morgan asked Penelope.

"Two or three minutes." Penelope mumbled, guessing.

"Let's call it two." Morgan said.

"You figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area." I piped up again. "That means Henkel has to be within a seventeen mile radius of the crime scene."

"Garcia, can we see it on a map?" Dad asked her and she did what he asked and pulled it up on the computer.

"Call Farrady." Gideon said. "I want that area locked down like it's martial law." JJ got up to go call him.

"Guys."

"You came back to life." Tobias said as Raphael.

"Raphael." Spencer said.

"There can only be one of two reasons." He declared.

"I was given CPR." Always with the science.

"There are no accidents. How many members are on your team?" Tobias, as Raphael, asked.

"Excluding me, seven."

"The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown down to earth."

"He thinks it's Revelation. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death." Dad said, understanding the unsub.

"Tell me who you serve." Tobias, as Raphael, demanded. Pulling Spencer up to sitting.

"I serve you." Spencer croaked.

"Then choose one to die." My eyes widened in fear.

"What?" Spencer asked, confused, trying to stall and come up for time.

"Your team members - choose one to die." He repeated himself.

"Kill me." Spencer pleaded. What?

"You said you weren't one of them." He reminded Spencer.

"I lied."

"Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies!"

"No!" I grabbed Dad's arm in a panic when he pulled a gun on Spencer. Dear God, please save him. Please save him. Please. Please Please.

He rolled the chamber of the gun. "Choose, and prove you'll do God's will."

"No." He clicked the gun. Dad used his free hand to cover his mouth.

"Choose." Tobias, as Raphael, demanded.

"I won't do it." Spencer told him, looking him square in the face. He shot again, but no bullet came out.

"Life is a choice."

"No." The gun clicked again. No bullet.

"Choose."

"I... I choose Aaron Hotchner." There was a moment of relief before Spencer started talking. "He's a classic narcissist. He think's he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. "Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense."

Tobias, as Raphael, took the bullet out of the camber. "For God's will." and put it back in and spun it.

We all walked out into the main room. "I'm not a narcissist." Dad said.

I looked at Gideon and then my dad. "Come on. Look. You can't take anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

"Dad, he's trying to live." I pointed out.

"No. Stop. Stop." Dad said. "Alright, everybody right now - what's my worst quality?" Nobody said anything. "Okay, I'll start. I have no sense of humor."

"You're a bully." JJ said, referring to how he treats unsubs.

"I'm a bully," He agreed.

"You can be a drill sergeant sometimes." Morgan said.

"Right." Dad agreed.

"You don't trust women as much as men." Prentiss said.

Dad looked at me to say something but I shook my had. I wasn't going to say anything back about my dad.

"Okay, good." He relented. "I'm all of these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't ever."

"You don't, Dad." I agreed with him. Not sure where he was going with this, I indulged him nevertheless.

"I don't. Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that. And he also quoted Genesis chapter 23 verse 4." He picked up one of the many Bibles around the house and handed it to me. "Read it."

"I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may burry my dead out of my sight." I read from the Bible.

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose." Dad scoffed, knowing that Spencer tricked Tobias/Charles/Raphael.

"He's in a cemetery." Morgan concluded.

"I don't see a cemetery." Prentiss said, looking a the map on Penelope's screen.

"Call up the first time we saw Reid." Gideon thought aloud. Penelope did what he asked. "I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher."

"Check to see if there's any poaching in the last couple days." I demanded, pacing back and forth in the back of the room.

"Okay, uh." Penelope typed as fast as she could. "A farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property."

"Where are we talking?" Morgan asked. She pulled it up on the map.

"What's that patch of green there?" JJ asked her.

I moved closer to the computer, wedging myself between Dad and Gideon.

"Marshall Parish. I think that it's an old plantation." Dad said.

"Wait." Prentiss said.

"Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from the Marshall." My brain rapid fired.

"Guy's there's a cemetery on the grounds." Penelope told us.

We all rushed to the vehicles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Spread out! They have to be on foot! Let's go!"

"Spencer!" I screamed. "Spencer! Spencer!" I screamed when I heard the gun shot. I ran towards the noise, everybody else right with me.

"You alright?" Dad asked Spencer after getting him on his feet. I stared at him blankly. He was here. He was alive. He was here.

"I knew you'd understand." He told Dad, hugging him before moving on to JJ.

"I am so sorry." She told him. I put my hands on my face and tried to remain calm. He was alive. He was alive. Thank you God. Thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you.

"It's alright. It wasn't your fault."

"Let's get you out of here." Gideon said, reaching for Spencer. Spencer pushed away from him and into my arms. I burst into tears.

"I'm okay, you saved me." He mumbled into my hair. "I'm okay."

I clutched to him, holding onto him tightly. “Please don’t leave me again.” I begged. “Please.” I bagged my hands in his shirt.

“I won’t. I’m okay.” He repeated pulling away after a few minutes.

“Okay, let’s get you to an ambulance.” Gideon said again.

“Please - can I have a minutes alone?” Spencer asked.

“I’m not leaving you again.” I clutched his hand.

“I’ll just be a minute.” He squeezed. “Okay? Just a minute.”

Gideon pulled me away from Spencer, giving him a minute.

When Spencer caught back up to us, I held his hand again.

“Please don’t leave me.” I begged as we got to the ambulance.

“I won’t, I won’t leave you.” He promised me sitting in the back of the bus. I leaned my head on his shoulder, sighing at the nightmare this case was.

Part 2 coming soon!

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