#she'd look like a serial killer

[strawberry-jackalope]

ur wisdom teeth story actually made my jaw drop. not unlike how ur jaw was dropped as they literally BROKE UR TEETH to take them out????

I'm wondering if this is not common procedure. I did a brief google and they said something about breaking the impacted teeth into like 3 pieces, but my teeth were not yet impacted or not fully impacted? They weren't near eruption anyway.

But yeah, I was told they would just cut into my jaw bone and break the teeth up into little pieces to scoop out, to prevent anything being fucked up if they ever did come out. And I was also told, upon awakening from surgery, that not every tooth or bone shard was collected, so as I healed for a few months, shards might work their way out through my gums. And I would just. Have some random tooth fall out in my mouth, possibly as I was eating.

That never happened really, I have a piece back there I imagine was supposed to work its way out but stopped halfway. It's a really sharp piece that sits with my back tooth, if I press it with my tongue it could probably cut me. The surgery was like a decade ago, so I think I just have to live like this now.

[thschei]

I think I need to go to bed, I understand Less now . And, I've spent Years begging for more Thanatos/Lost references, & Revo showed up with a bat (literally)

[worm-wood-words]

Once again glad I do a quick Google before naming a character.

[asmodeus-682]

Some wholesome headcanons

1. Zestial's only form of technology he owns aside from kitchen appliances is a radio that Alastor gave him.

2. Alastor will sometimes borrow Zestial's clothes while Rosie is mending his suit.

3. Charlie has a collection of history books to better understand the different time periods her friends are from.

4. Alastor's mother tells her friends in heaven about her son and how much of a gentleman he is, despite knowing Alastor was a serial killer after her death.

5. Angel Dust and Husk play simple card games together as a pass-time.

6. St Peter, Emily, Sir Pentious, Molly and Alastor's Mother are all friends. Peter and Al's mother are the parents of the group.

7. Vaggie did meet Alastor's mother during her days in heaven, she still doesn't realise this yet.

8. Lucifer has handmade plush ducks made to look like they're dressed like the other high up angels (Gabriel, Micheal ect)

9. Despite being scared of fire, Zestial always offers to light campfires when camping with his friends

10. Charlie knew Zestial as a kid, mostly due to him being close with Lucifer. He used to babysit her on rare occasions.

11. Rosie and Alastor considered marrying each other to avoid people hitting on Alastor, however they dropped the idea because Rosie knew she can't stay committed to marriages (not in the sense that she'd cheat, more that she'd get bored and kill her husband)

[oncloudten]

if he's a serial killer, then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?

ethan landry x fem!reader. scream 6 spoilers. cw: choking, mentions of sex, murder, slight dirty talk.

read part ii. here

"get the fuck off me, you sick fuck!" you managed to get out, barely breathing.

he had you completely fooled. the boy with the puppy dog eyes and the sweetest smile. every horror film has a sweet little dorky cliche virgin, and he chose to embody that role perfectly. ethan landry.

though, the virgin part wouldn't be true. and you have yourself to thank for that.

who would have thought? well, maybe mindy. oh god. she'll kill you for this– if they don't first. if he doesn't.

all those nights you spent with ethan, all those days. everytime you'd tell tara and mindy about him and your massive crush on him, and then eventually the friends-with-benefits thing you had going on, she'd try to offer you her enthusiasm and be the supportive best-friend that she usually is to you, but it would always be followed by heartfelt speeches of her telling you to "be careful" and that she doesn't trust him. she never did like him from the start.

but you weren't worried about mindy right now, you couldn't. not when ethan had such a tight grip around your neck, and your friends were somewhere in this building being chased by his family.

"hmm? i thought you liked it when i did this, princess." ethan smirks, trailing his knife on your cheeks.

asshole. of course he'd say that. because why wouldn't he? he knew everything about you. you had given yourself to him completely– in every way. something so private being used against you– someone so... wicked knowing such intimate and delicate things about you, that no one else does. you can't process anything. "t-that means nothing."

he let go of your neck, but only slightly to stop choking you. he's towering over you, pushing you up against a wall. "didn't seem like that a few nights ago when you were begging for it, you dirty fucking slut."

"fuck you."

"oh, i'd love to. but i got my hands bloody full right now. oh and, been there, done that." he says, proudly. there is something so sinister about his smile. his killer smile. "come on, you sweet dumb thing. lighten up a bit, won't you? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"if you're going to kill me, just fucking do it. why the fuck bring me here? kill me and get it over with." there's no telling what he's going to do. he has you completely isolated from sam and tara. and chad is gone— you found ethan when you were forcibly seperated when ghostface showed up, and it immediately clicked.

"oh no no no no no, you sweet pretty thing. i love sticking things in you, but i would never stick a knife in you. never hurt you. well, i mean, kill you. it's your friends that we're after." he pauses for a bit. "well that wouldn't be right to say either. it is sam and tara that we want," he inches closer to you, "but it just feels so fucking good to kill. so fucking good baby."

"you're sick."

"and you love me. isn't that what you were telling mindy and quinn a few weeks ago? hmm?"

fuck. what are the fucking chances of that wicked witch being his literal fucking sister? "that was before i found out you are the one who is actively trying to kill my best fucking friends, you dimwitted fucking asshole!"

he lets out a low chuckle. "if it makes you feel any better. you're the closest thing i'll ever get to love in this world. i do love you. well, god, did i love fucking you. y'gave me the best sex of my life. but it was more than that."

"stop. just stop. let me go." you beg, "let me go please, ethan. i'll just go- just my friends, my- chad, please."

"i can't do that, angel. my job is to keep you away from them. protect you, even. see, my lovely sister thought it'd be funny to kill you. claims you're just baggage. that it would hurt sam and tara the most because you're practically the closest thing they have to family. but i can't let that happen. so this is the next best thing."

and then all you see is black.

[writer-in-theory]

Ever since he can remember, everyone has always said Steve looked like his Mama.

He acts like her too—that persistent kindness and protectiveness for the people they love, the ability to talk to people with relative ease, even the propensity for having a bit of an attitude. Even his soft brown eyes and the texture of his hair, all of it was Maggie Harrington.

Maggie always said that Steve was her greatest accomplishment, one of her best friends. She was so proud of her son, first for being Hawkins High's first All-State Champ in swimming and then for being a good role model in town. She'd missed the moment when he began to distance from her, from his parents, until she hardly knew anything about his life. She thinks it might've been because of Robert.

Steve Harrington could only have the best in store for him, which is why she'd allowed Robert to be tough with him. He knew what it meant to build a good future, what it would take to find happiness and stability. So she'd let Robert yell at him for throwing a party at their house and allowing a poor girl to go missing there. And she'd thought it had worked, based on the way Steve started bringing around sweet Nancy Wheeler and stopped hanging out with the Hagan boy. She thought it had worked.

When the Harringtons came home from their last business trip to Chicago, Steve was being dropped off by Police Chief Hopper. It looked like he'd been in a fight, and as much was confirmed when the Chief told him to stay out of trouble. Robert had been furious, ready to lay into Steve about the Harrington name and respectability, but then a group of kids Maggie didn't recognize tumbled out of the car, too, all hugging Steve and thanking him. He was their hero, they'd told the Harringtons, Steve was the best babysitter ever. Steve had never showed interest in babysitting before, but the way all of those kids so clearly looked up to him had Maggie in near tears.

Maggie had a feeling the mall job was a mistake. She'd felt it the moment Robert made the decision, loudly proclaiming that their son would learn what it was like to work a tough job, that he'd realize how lucky he had it that there was a family business he could be hired in. Maggie hated the humiliated look their Steven had given the first time he set out for the mall in that sailor's uniform, but her husband knew what it was like to be a teen boy, surely he had Steve's best interests at heart.

But then she'd gotten the call that there had been a fire, that Steve was involved and they needed to get down to the hospital. If she thought the fight in '84 looked bad, then nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her son in that hospital bed, vomiting profusely into a container and wincing through the obvious pain in his head. The morning after, that same group of kids fought the hospital staff to visit Steve, demanded it. The one with curly hair and the youngest girl loudly proclaimed that Steve had saved their lives, that he'd risked himself to make sure they were safe. Her baby was an actual goddamn town hero and she'd almost missed it, she almost never knew because she was too busy worrying about his future.

Maggie stopped worrying about family names and legacies, after that. She was the first to ask how his shifts at the movie store were and never minded when his talkative friend came over for dinner. Maggie kept waiting for the moment Steve would admit the two of them were dating, but he kept insisting they were friends, best friends.

She never saw Eddie Munson coming.

After the fourth tragedy to befall Steve, Maggie was convinced he needed to get out of Hawkins before it destroyed him. No one could find Steve in the immediate aftermath of the earthquake. He wasn't at the shelter, or the hospital, or with any other search parties. She'd worried briefly that the serial killer had gotten him, too, that they'd have to see what was so horrific about the method of killing that had left the town sparking a witch hunt for the guy.

He was found later at the Munson trailer, wearing military-style gear and bleeding out from his abdomen and neck. Maggie would never understand how an earthquake could cause that level of damage, nor the kind that was found on Eddie Munson just beside him. When Steve had woken up in the hospital, he'd simply told her that he couldn't talk about it, that it was better if she didn't know. She thinks that might be true.

Once Steve recovered, he stayed by the Munson boy's bedside every day. He'd bring a book, or a hacky sack, anything to keep himself busy while Eddie slept off his injuries. And when he came home, Steve was with him constantly. They were volunteering, he'd told her.

Then one day, months after the earthquake, Steve came home looking nervous.

"Mom." Maggie ached for the days when he'd come waddling into the living room screaming Mama, missed when he felt like he could tell her everything. When had that disappeared? "I need to tell you something."

"Of course, Stevie. You can tell me anything." Steve winced in the way she figured he would: they both know that hadn't been true in years.

Steve shuffled on his feet, wrung his hands together and worried them through his hair. Finally he stood ramrod straight, eyes focused directly on hers as he blurted the truth out. "Mom, I like guys. And girls. It's called being bisexual and I'm not sorry for it. I can pack a bag tonight if I have to, but I won't pretend anymore. I won't."

It was supposed to be scary. Maggie knows the version of her four years ago would have been terrified by the statement, angry or upset. Maybe she still is a little scared, only because she knows what the world is like for people who are different. She used to be upset by people who were different. In '83, she might've kicked Steve out for the fear of it all. But looking at him now, she saw the kid who drove those middle schoolers to the arcade because he could, and who saved peoples' lives in the mall at the near expense of his own, the guy who believed Eddie Munson was innocent even when the entire town had turned on him out of fear of the Other. She saw Steve Harrington, her darling son who'd grown up before she even realized it, becoming far greater a man than she could have ever hoped for.

"How long have you two been dating? You and Eddie Munson?" Maggie asked gently, a smile working its way on her face. She'd wondered why he hadn't dated anyone after Nancy, but maybe it was simply that he wasn't telling her about that part of his life anymore.

Steve's eyes widened, lips parting like he was surprised by the response. He floundered a little, looking around for an explanation. "Um. Since last summer, we met at the mall. How did you...?"

Maggie laughed then, far brighter than it ever had been in years. "I know when my son's in love. I just didn't know where to look, didn't notice the answer was right there."

"You're not...mad? Disappointed?"

"Honey," Maggie sighed, taking a few steps forward so she could grab onto his arms. "Steven Robert Harrington, you are my son. I will always love you, no matter what. I'm so sorry I ever ever made you feel otherwise. All I've ever wanted for you is happiness, and if that's with Eddie Munson then that's that."

"Mom," Steve croaked, voice cracking around the word as he pulled her in for a hug. She could feel him shake in her arms, sniffling like he was trying to hide the tears. "Do you want to meet him? Eddie, I mean, do you want to...?"

"He's outside?"

"He came over to support me, in case we needed to, well." In case his parents were kicking him out. God, where had they gone so wrong? "Do you want to?"

"Please," Maggie answered quietly, knowing this wouldn't be enough to make up for the years of wrong they'd done. She wanted to know her son, wanted to know the people who made him happiest. She wanted to hear about his day and know that if something ever went wrong that he would call his parents himself, not wait for the hospital or the police to do so. "Please."

Then Steve was bringing in Eddie Munson, who stood out in the pristine, polished Harrington home but who made Maggie's son's eyes light up in a way she'd never seen them. He was smiling, holding his hand out for a handshake.

"Mama, this is Eddie," Steve was saying, and Maggie could cry because it felt like she'd done something right, because she could see how deeply in love Steve was with Eddie because it was a mirror of her own expression when she looked at Robert. This was her son, and her future son-in-law, and Maggie couldn't be prouder.

[yournowheregirl]

@eddiemonth day 4: rejection

rating: T | wc: 913 | cw: hurt/comfort, general & UD related anxiety, hoh!Steve, pre-Steddie

Eddie flops down on his bed with a load groan.

He blindly reaches for a pillow and once he’s found one, he uses it to muffle his screams. It barely dampens the sound, but he's home alone anyway. He screams and screams until his throat starts to hurt and the tears he tried so hard to ignore, finally well up in his eyes.

Another rejection.

Another place that didn't want to hire him.

Even with all the strings Hopper and those government guys had pulled to clear his name, Eddie can't escape his brand-new reputation of local satanist and serial killer. There was a press conference and everything, and a personal apology from the police department, but it still wasn't enough to sway the public's opinion of him.

But he has to get a job, like yesterday. They'll run out of that government money sooner or later and he can't expect Wayne to continue cleaning up his mess. Wayne's done enough of that already.

Eddie's tried almost every place in town. His first instinct was the record store and the garage, because that's what where his interests and experience lie. They turned him away as soon as he came in to drop off his resume.

When he told his friends about his job search, Steve immediately offered to put a good word in for him at Family Video. Robin would ask their parents if they knew about any job openings and Nancy would do the same, though she'd avoid Eddie's name while talking to her father. Gareth, Jeff and Frank suggested he'd ask for a job at The Hideout, while Jonathan and Argyle suggested the local pizza place, because of course they would.

None of those jobs ever got back to him.

Today was one of his last resorts. The diner on the other side of town had an opening for a dishwasher. Not exactly the kind of job Eddie wanted, but it meant keeping a low profile and it would pay the bills. He'd take the job in a heartbeat, but the restaurant manager took one good look at him and sent him away before she even took one good look at his resume.

"We don't hire murderers." She'd sneered.

Any other day, Eddie would've maybe stand up for himself, made a whole scene, maybe even called the cops to prove his innocence yet again. But he was so burnt out from rejection after rejection, that he just shrugged, got into his van and drove all the way back home.

Even though the screaming helped a little, Eddie can still feel his mind buzzing, thoughts of anxiety swirling around and threatening to swallow him whole if he doesn't do something quick. He rolls off the bed, put whatever tape he can get his hands on into his boombox and turns up the volume to the loudest setting.

Other people might listen to soothing music to calm down, but Eddie needs the loudest, most aggressive music to drown out the thoughts in his head. The thoughts of never getting a job and leaving it up to Wayne to pick up the pieces, driving him to work harder and longer, until his brittle body can't take it anymore. Thoughts of losing their home again, being forced to call Rick again

It's all his fault. Everything is his fault.

Tears slowly roll down his cheeks as the music continues playing, so loud that he doesn't hear Wayne coming home. So loud that he doesn't hear Wayne picking up the phone to call someone. So loud that he doesn't hear the knock on his bedroom door twenty minutes later.

It's not until his bedroom goes completely quiet that Eddie finally notices he's not alone. For a second he thinks it's Wayne, but when he hears a muffled "oh thank God" from the other side of the trailer, he realizes that it must be someone else.

"Y'know, if you were so jealous of my new accessories, you could've just said so. No reason to shatter your eardrums like this." Steve says with a teasing grin. The sunlight reflects on the hearing aids he'd gotten a few months ago and of course, he pulls it off like he's a goddamn Calvin Klein model.

"Sorry."

Eddie's voice is small, barely recognizable to his own ears and Steve immediately picks up on it. His teasing smile fades away as he walks over to the bed and sit down next to Eddie. He shuffles around a bit to find a comfortable seat against the headboard and pats his lap.

Completely drained from his terrible day, Eddie doesn't even try to fight it and cuddles up next to Steve. He rests his head in Steve's lap and lets out a sigh of relief when Steve's hands find their way to his scalp.

"What's going on?" Steve asks softly.

"Another fucking job didn't want me." Eddie mutters against the fabric of his polo.

Steve hums in acknowledgement. "I'm sorry. You wanna talk about it or do you want some quiet time?"

"Quiet, please."

"Alright."

See, with Steve around, Eddie doesn't need the music to drown out his bad thoughts. They float away on their own as soon as Steve cuddles with him and starts massaging his scalp. Or, on other occasions, they float away when Steve distracts him by talking about Robin's hopeless love life.

Steve being there for him just helps, in general.

Eddie doesn't wanna look into that realization too much.

[vienssunshine]

What are the Halloween costumes that would drive JJK characters crazy?

pairings: Maki, Choso, and Nanami x fem!reader nsfw: drug use, implied sexual activity

Maki: Black Cat

Maki has no issue with your "costume" being just lingerie and cat ears. Well, you had drawn a little triangle on your cute nose, so she'd give you credit for that. But even so, how could she mind the basic costume when you made it look so good? It's hard to focus on the conversation she's having when the body suit—so tight on your gorgeous silhouette—is riding up on your hips, allowing her to make out the curve of your ass. And just below it, she can see your black thigh highs and how they squeeze your legs, a little bit of your flesh spilling out over the top. With a sight like this, she can't stand there staring the whole time, she has to come over and introduce herself to the pretty girl in the cat costume. You'd giggle your name back to her and do a terrible job of hiding how your eyes flick down to the strong but elegant hands of hers that you just took a drink from. Later in the night, when you two end up pressed together in the closet of someone's house, she would show you how she's quite the cat person and knows how to take care of your pussy.

Choso: Vampire

This boy is emo!!! And so touch starved, so when you're smoking his weed outside of your friend’s party and you playfully threaten to bite his neck, he agrees. With a fanged smile, you pass the blunt back to him and place your hands on his built shoulders so you can close in on your victim. He shudders at the sensation of your breath on his throat, pulse thumping through his neck as he senses you move closer and closer until your fake fangs graze his pale skin. His hand grabs onto your arm, but he doesn’t stop you as you gently bite his flesh. It’s not enough to draw blood, but it still sends a shiver of—fear? excitement? ...arousal?—down his spine. As a thank you for providing make-believe sustenance, you remove your fangs from his neck and plant a gentle kiss in their place, causing his fingers to squeeze around your arm. Your kiss leaves a smear of your red lipstick on his skin, but he doesn’t wipe it off, he likes being marked.

Nanami: Classic Movie Killer

Nanami would find all your little teases about how he should ‘watch out’ because ‘there’s a serial killer on the loose,’ very entertaining. You’d brandish your flimsy plastic knife and draw a line across his throat with it while telling him he should be grateful you haven’t killed him yet since, if you wanted to, you could. He’d cross his arms, showcasing his strong, veiny forearms, and tilt his head with an “Oh yeah?” and watch as you stumble over yourself to double down on your empty threats. Aside from the fact that he would be able to pin you in under a second, he knows it'd be impractical to kill anyone in the skimpy get-up you're wearing. Not that he doesn't like the little 'killer' outfit though, he actually has a hard time keeping his eyes from roaming the bloodied, exposed skin your crop-top and skirt reveal. Of course he’d keep his composure at the Halloween party, but after it he'd take you home and rip off your costume, leaving you bare and naked and dripping with arousal, and it’s only then he'd allow himself to teach you who should be scared of who.

[llamagoddessofficial]

I'm on my knees for any more crumbs with prison AU therapist Mc and Sans 🙏 the more equal(?) dynamic is just so good And to the anon that brought it up—I love you

I'll do you one better. Here's some crumbs for ALL of them

Since she's not a nurse, this Mc doesn't have a very strong stomach. Stories of Skull's crimes sometimes make her physically ill.

Generally, Sans and Mc's 'sessions' can be quite pleasant. They talk about current events, how things are going. It's only once she starts trying to explore his feelings that he starts toying with her.

... Red teases her a lot. She tries not to react to it, it's unprofessional, but he can always tell when he's flustering her. He gets this infuriating smug grin.

Since Red is a high risk prisoner, he has to have one hand cuffed to a table during therapy. He often complains that he wishes he could be cuffed alone in a room with her in different circumstances. What Mc doesn't realise is that, considering his strength, the cuffs are basically for decoration- Red just pretends he can't break out of them so she feels more comfortable alone in a room with a massive skeleton monster who openly displays interest in her.

Sans doesn't require cuffs in his sessions. And the only time he was cuffed, he snapped them 'accidentally' to make a point. It just makes it all the more nervewracking for Mc.

Skull doesn't know she's his therapist. He thinks she just really cares about him. That's why she keeps coming back to see him, right?

Red isn't the only flirt. Sans is a lot more forward in this AU, considering she knows the truth about his nature. Granted, Sans being 'clear' about something is still incredibly cryptic, but he enjoys the shock in her eyes whenever he calmly flirts with her.

Red's flirting is warm, sincere, and never crosses the line... it leaves her flushed and (though she'd never admit it) flattered. Sans' flirting is nervewracking. It makes her feel like she's a mouse, and Sans is a cat playfully batting at her, capable of clawing her to death at any moment.

Skull gains bits and pieces of speech back a lot faster with her. Unfortunately, that means he's learning how to terrify the guards. It used to be that Skull would just scream or snarl, but now he likes to say broken ominous sentences to guards he doesn't like to see them shit their pants.

He's also figured out that, when he's really upset and angry, if he screams her name enough someone will send her. It's not a great lesson to learn... but it's better than him deciding to attack people.

Whenever Mc tries to get Skull to do therapeutic art with her, he just draws the same thing over and over. The art is scribbly thanks to his tremor, but it always looks like three people; a tall skeleton, a shorter skeleton, and a human. He draws them in various positions- standing together, sitting around a table, sitting on a couch. She suspects one skeleton is him and the human could be her, but she doesn't know who the tall skeleton is.

(It's him, her, and Papyrus. His family)

Sans, for all his power and control, gets ratty and jealous when she treats other people. The first time he hears her laugh is when she realises that was why he's being moody.

She'd never seen him so delighted before.

Sans likes when she dodges his conversational traps. He'll try to lure her into talking about herself, revealing information to him, but she won't fall for it and always turns it back on him. There's not much he's been able to glean from her. It's always so fun, to play with someone who knows what they're doing.

Again, she'll never admit it. But Mc is fascinated by Sans. Most serial killers are delusional and kinda pathetic, but Sans is as if all the stereotypes of the 'genius mastermind serial killer' were true. She gets to be up close and personal, see how he works; she gets to watch his mask rise and fall in real time.

Of course, he knows she's fascinated. He uses it to keep her coming back. He's fascinated with her, too~

[ddejavvu]

inspired by the break bite bang fic u wrote (?? is that what it was called ?? sorry !!) pleaseee write a spencer x reader where they try it out or penelope recommends it during girls night or SOMETHING... ik you usually dont write for the same plot with different characters but i neeeed it <3

Girl's night is typically only interrupted by a Chinese food delivery, or the pizza boy. But tonight Penelope's buzzer blares through the apartment, then a crackly voice barks, 'Package!'

"Oh!" Penelope rushes to stand, unashamed of her fuzzy pajamas when she wrenches the door open to greet the postman, "Exciting! Thank you!"

The delivery man is off with a mere nod and a smile after handing off Penelope's package, and you peer curiously at the box that she brings back to the table.

"What'd you get?" Emily asks, sipping the last of her wine. JJ goes to refill her glass, and you let her top yours off too.

"They're these-" Penelope realizes what she's about to admit, breaking off with a sheepish chuckle, "They're these chocolates, and they make you- y'know, all hot and bothered and stuff."

"Hot and bothered," JJ frowns, "Like- for sex?"

"Yeah," You nod, recognizing the familiar packaging, "Those work good, Spence and I love 'em."

Your words escape you through the slippery persuasion of wine, but when you realize what you've confessed, your eyes go wide, and your spine stiffens like a tree banded to a support staff.

You've chased unsubs before, you've been in shootouts with serial killers, and yet this is the fastest you've ever seen your teammates move. Emily and JJ whip their heads around to you so fast that you're surprised their necks don't break, and Penelope drops her scissors clean onto the ground where she'd been slitting open the tape on the box.

"Not like-!"

"Oh my god!" Prentiss shrieks, "You're fucking Reid!"

"No!" You deny, but there's really no other explanation for your admission, "I meant- like, uh, we both used them, separately, and we just- we happened to make conversation about it! We're not having sex. With each other. We're not."

"Oh, sure," JJ scoffs, eyes alight with excitement, "Because Reid's idea of casual conversation is sex chocolate."

"You are so busted," Garcia laughs, looking like a kid in a candy store, "So, give us the official review: these things really work?"

You feel sinful reminiscing on what might have been the hottest sex of your life with your boyfriend-slash-coworker in the presence of your other teammates, but you swallow what little saliva is in your mouth, nodding once.

"Yes, they work. Uh- very well, in fact."

[luvghostie]

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘/𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘༊*·˚

{𝘎𝘕 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, + 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦}

*ೃ༄ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬

When you called him daddy for the first time it took him aback...and he's a ruthless serial killer- he obviously didn't say anything but the name made him hard just hearing it. The feeling was quite unusual for Michael. The name sent a feeling of pure pleasure throughout his body.

Now you call him daddy any chance you can. No doubt you'll be fucked until you can't think straight anymore.

*ೃ༄ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲

Baby is a chaotic but fun person to be around. If she finds interest in you, gender and mental state won't affect her. Baby likes you for you, if you were innocent she'd love you even more. Yes, she kills people but she knows something good when she sees it. Even mother Firefly likes you!!

Baby seems like the dominant type as she likes power. So, when you called her mommy it only filled her ego more. She'll be all over you as the name is something that triggers sexual desires. She'll make you say it again finding enjoyment in your humiliation and will fuck you all night long. (Otis most definitely heard you and told you guys to shut the fuck up)

*ೃ༄ 𝐎𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Let's be honest, you've been calling Otis daddy since you two first got together. His manners and the way he carries himself just give off the vibe. The name ate away at you until you finally said it. Oh boy, the number of times you two fucked that night was unbelievable.

It's like a habit now. Sexual activity or not, it's a slip of the tongue and a nickname you call him 24/7. Baby thinks it's cute but she doesn't want to hear you guys fuck. The poor girl already has trauma from the brief things she's walked in on.

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Spaulding didn't expect you for the kinky type. The innocent-looking ones are always the kinkiest. But, he likes the name and even makes you call him daddy in embarrassing situations. Out in public? You know he'll make you call him it just for humor or to make others uncomfortable.

In the bedroom, the nickname is still a must. Spaulding loves it when he feels in control. Having you a moaning mess saying his favorite new analysis, it's absolutely perfect.

*ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Look at her, it's no surprise you call her mommy. When you use the nickname she finds it rather flattering. She's had many exes in the past, (Chucky being one of them) who love her dominant side. She knows what she wants and how to get it.

Like Otis, she'll fuck you harder than you possibly could imagine. Reminder, this girl is super freaky and will tease you to the point that you can't take it anymore. That bright pretty smile never leaves her face while you scream her name.

*ೃ༄ 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

You guys were in the middle of having sex when you accidentally called him daddy. He stopped himself before asking you to repeat what you said. He's been called that name many times, coming from you though, it feels right.

He'll have you call him daddy whenever you need anything. The name makes him feel powerful over you and turns him on so much. I have a good feeling you guys fuck every night because of it.

*ೃ༄ 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

Dollface is a very complicated person. She can be sweet then turn around and eat your heart out. When you guys did have sex, being called mommy was the last thing she expected.

Doll likes the name shockingly. She makes you say it now and then as it makes her happy. However, She won't push you to do anything you don't like. If you want round two or want to make love more often just let her know.

*ೃ༄ 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐧

This man will either find it very funny or very sexy. There's no in-between. When you guys do have sex it's always full of new experiences. Once, Art blew an air horn in your ear while you were fixing to cum. You punched the shit out of him which he found absolutely funny.

*ೃ༄𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬

Billy actually asked if you could call him daddy. He'll admit it to you, the word coming from your mouth sounds like heaven. Gosh, say it all the time and he'll fold.

Billy loves seeing you beneath him and when you moan daddy- boy losses all self-respect. He isn't ashamed to ask you what his ‘name’ is. Every time you say anything besides daddy he'll just go faster.

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐭𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

Daddy? He never expected you to call him daddy. No one's ever called Stu something like that before. The common, baby, babe, and a nickname they've given him have always been usual. This is a new leaf though and from now on that's the only name he wants you to call him.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Valentine's!! 💗💗 I absolutely love your What You Expect AU, its just so good!

continuation of 1 2 3 4

The problem is that Ed doesn't really know how to be a girl.

She was so excited at the excuse of trying to lure out the serial killer targeting young women walking alone at night that she'd forgotten that she doesn't really know how to do that. She's never gotten the chance.

She's been pretending to be a boy since she was twelve years old. She can see girls around her, what they're wearing and their make up and how they style her hair, but that doesn't mean she knows how to do any of it.

Eden standing in a shop at the edge of central, her hair out and flowing and wearing jeans and flat shoes that she thinks are probably years out of date, especially in the city and not middle of nowhere Resembool, and she feels like a failure. She feels stupid.

She doesn't know how to do this. She has to hide her automail with clothes she's not sure how to pick and curl her hair and actually figure out how to wear makeup if she wants to do this without getting caught but she doesn't know how to do any of that.

This was a dumb idea. She can go after the serial killer like the rest of them, she doesn't have to play at being a real girl to do that. It doesn't matter, really.

It doesn't matter, she tells herself, again and again as her eyes burn. It's all stupid stuff. Winry probably wouldn't know how to do this either, it doesn't mean anything.

"Are you okay?"

Her head snaps up and she's looking up into kind blue eyes and pale blonde hair belonging to the cutest girl she's seen since she left Liore. Her face warms, shame and embarrassment mingling together in one terrible combination. "Yeah, sorry, I just - yeah, yes, I'm fine."

Her delicate eyebrows push together, her mouth tilted down in a frown. "Why don't you shop with me? It's more fun with a friend. I'm Catherine."

"Eden," she says, too startled to make up a name. Al's going to kill her. "Uh, it's really okay, I don't really know what I'm doing-"

She places a perfectly manicured hand on Ed's arm. Luckily, it's the flesh one. "Well, I do. Won't you let me help? Playing dress up with other people is a lot more fun than doing it alone."

Ed hasn't played dress up since before her mother died.

"Okay," she whispers, eyes burning all over again.

[bippot]

Summary: Working with his wife usually comes easy to Spencer but when a woman identical to her is found dead, it becomes a little bit harder to deal with. Especially when she's determined to find the guy by whatever means she has at her disposal.

Criminal Minds, Dr Spencer Reid Masterlist - here

Additional Tags: Married Couple, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Serial Killers, Canon-Typical Violence, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Brief weight gain mention, Pregnancy, Reader is a Member of the BAU (Criminal Minds), Protectiveness, Angst with a Happy Ending

In all her time of knowing him, Y/N had never seen Spencer be rageful. He was annoyed by small minded cops constantly. Any case that had anything to do with kids caused everyone to be on edge. And he had a sore spot whenever schizophrenia came up in conversation.

He was kind and gentle and frequently had a smile on his face whenever she needed a friendly face, but Y/N knew that deep down, there was a sadness lurking in his soul. He was a lonely man at his core so she tried her very best to make sure she always was there to listen whenever he wanted to rant and tell her facts and vomit word soup out in the open.

Sure, the fact that he was cute was a factor in Y/N's interest in her coworker's words. But it was his genuine need to use that big ol' brain of his to help other people out that really captured her attention. He had a big heart to go along with his big brain, that's why he was so special.

And why she fell in love with him.

"Sorry, one of the officers cornered me and forced me to endure a way too long conversation about bitcoin and now your coffee is getting cold," Y/N announced as she placed Spencer's drink on the desk in front of him. He immediately pulled his focus away from the papers he'd been staring at and shifted it to his wife, causing his entire being to go from slouching down in his chair to perking up in attention.

"How did you get away?" he asked her with a gleam in his eye.

Y/N sat down on the edge of the desk and shrugged. "His shift ended," she answered with a chuckle, taking a sip from her coffee and holding back a wince at how bitter it was.

Whilst she was making it, she had been faced with a decision - use up all the remaining sugar on Spencer's cup so he has it the way he likes or share the sugar between them both and have the one coffee she allowed herself to indulge in per day to taste better. Luckily, he didn't see her distaste for her coffee, or if did, he didn't mention it.

But she did notice when he made a face that she'd seen far too many times. His brows furrowed and crinkled his forehead. Y/N's hand brushed the back of his shoulder tenderly. "Migraine?"

"Just a headache right now."

"Do you want me to go get you anything?"

"No, no, I'm okay," he waved her off. "I'll be fine."

Bullshit. She knew him well enough to know that he was in more distress than he wanted to admit. She jumped off the desk, gave him a scratch right on the crown of his head, and moved to find her bag, rifling through it until she found what she was looking for with a satisfied, "Ah-ha!" Whatever Y/N had found was being shoved in Spencer's direction. He took it without looking, knowing exactly what it was from the crinkle and soft jingling sound that accompanied it, and popped the magnesium out of the packet and tipped a vitamin B gummy from the pot.

"Thank you, honey."

"It's my job to make sure my husband's brain doesn't explode," Y/N told him as he threw the gummy in his mouth. "You're welcome."

"I certainly am," Spencer replied with a cheeky grin, before taking a large gulp of his coffee. His wife rolled her eyes but couldn't resist smiling back.

By the time Y/N had finished her coffee, Hotch was calling for everyone to gather because there had been bodies found. The squad listened as Garcia gave them the update. Four bodies had been found, all of whom had very similar features. As he was watching the photos of the dead women pop up on the screen, Spencer's hand made it to his wife's back, curling her shirt into his fist. Y/N didn't seem to react. Not even when all of the team had looked at her as soon as they realised too.

The victim they'd deduced had been the first of this serial killer was a doppelganger of Y/N. The others looked similar but the first was almost identical to her. Same hair colour, same nose, same eyes, same smirk. There were a few obvious differences due to styling and body weight distribution but they could be sisters. Twins even. Well, at least Y/N knew what she'd look like after being strangled to death and dumped in a mass grave in the middle of nowhere. She never had wanted to know that. Now she did.

Whatever morbid curiosity she had, it had never got that detailed. Hotch knew that Y/N would be able to deal with this. However, he had no idea if Spencer would be. Judging by Reid's clenched jaw and the mortified look in his eyes, he wasn't dealing with being presented with an image of someone who looked like his wife dead in a ditch very well.

"I'll point out the elephant in the room," Y/N began before anyone could say it out loud. She gestured in the general direction of her face. "We could use this to our advantage."

Yeah, she'd been a decoy before and was prepared to do so again. Her situation was slightly different now though.

Spencer's head whipped up. A thousand million zillion alarm bells went off in his head, which was not very pleasant mixed with his headache. "Y/N..." he warned, his voice low and shaky.

"It's an option. That's all I'm saying."

"We'll try a more traditional approach at first, but it may be beneficial for us to keep Y/N out of the public eye just in case we need to go down that route," Hotch stated, which was met with some relief. Not much. Some. He turned fully towards Spencer. "Is that agreeable?"

Humming his agreement - though it didn't sound all that enthusiastic - Spencer was mostly quiet during their discussion about the unsub. The usual points were hit. The unsub is anti-social. He won’t look anyone in the eye. He’s not confident. He's a white male in the 30-45 range. He probably doesn't like his mummy. Spencer spoke up when he thought he had new insight that nobody else had brought up yet, but as soon as Hotch told everyone to get some sleep for the night, Spencer got the hell out of there.

Derek sighed. "Want me to cool him down?" He offered, bumping her in the shoulder with his own. Y/N shook her head and gave him a bump back.

"I will power through the silent treatment,"she told him, and he gave her a few seconds to change her mind before chuckling and stepping away.

Back in their hotel room, Spencer was in the shower when Y/N got back. He'd had a five minute head start and was not wasting that precious time, it seemed.

Officially, the FBI booked two rooms for the married couple as agents have their own rooms instead of sharing most of the time - unless the hotel is fully booked or they're in a romance novel and need to huddle for warmth - so whenever the squad touch down in a new city and settle in, there's a guarantee that one of the Reid's rooms are abandoned. It was a waste of company money.

Working together whilst married had been a weird thing in the beginning. There was a review of how effective Y/N and Reid were by the unit chief when they first declared themselves as a couple to HR, and then another conducted after their wedding. It was decided that there weren't any glaring problems with the two working together - they weren't half as flirty as Morgan and Garcia so maybe that helped them out a bit - so they were allowed to stay in the same unit. That report had said that Agent L/N's reckless nature often conflicted with Dr Reid's anxiousness. Which had been true enough. Sometimes those traits worked well together. Other times...

A pin drop could be heard as the couple got ready for bed. Y/N climbed into her side of the bed and Spencer into his. The room was dark and quiet, and in that silence, Spencer could hear the sound of his heart and that drum beat of terror, and it was almost as loud as a thunderstorm. Could she hear it too? Or was he just afraid that she could?.Both sat with their backs against the headboard, Y/N read her book quietly while Spencer stared into space and tried his best to ignore his wife. The silence stretched on and on, until finally, Spencer felt a hand on the back of his head and fingers softly stroking through his hair. He let out a sigh of relief.

Instantly, the drum in his head stopped. He pressed himself into her side, morphing his body to fit the contours of hers, and - without losing her spot on the page - she let her head tip downwards to give him a kiss on the crown of his head. It was a soft, brief peck and Spencer felt himself yearn for more. "Pay attention to me?" He whined.

An amused huff came from her nose and she placed her book on the bedside table so both hands were free to lavish him with so much petting and loving caresses that he began purring like a cat in no time.

"Better?"

"Much," he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of her warm fingers tracing patterns along his temples, his nose, his cheekbones. Her fingers moved to his chin and tilted it so she could give him a smooch, and Spencer thought he would melt at the pure sweetness of her lips on his.

"I love you," he said, and it felt so natural to say it. It felt so right.

"I know," she replied, sounding just as serious. "I love you too."

Spencer felt a shift in the atmosphere as the tension that had been there evaporated, leaving them to cuddle together and enjoy the rest of the night in each other's arms. Though the issue hadn't been solved, that was okay right now. They'd deal with that tomorrow or whenever it had to be dealt with. Not right now. Not before bed. They'd never gone to bed angry at each other and they weren't going to start today.

Despite seeing her dead doppelganger, Y/N fell asleep pretty quickly. Her husband was so warm at her side and the hotel pillow was so fluffy and comfortable that she was out like a light in no time. Spencer lay awake for a long time, his eyes staring at the ceiling, his thoughts racing as he traced a line from one of her hips to the other and back again over and over again, feeling the pouch of her stomach with the very tip of his finger, and his chest was tight with worry.

He didn't know why his mind kept going back to that photograph. Why would his brain choose to relive that? Did he want to torture himself that badly? Maybe if he stayed awake he would be able to protect her from anyone who even thought about hurting her. He'd catch this killer if it was the last thing he ever did.

"I can hear you thinking." His wife's sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts and Spencer let out a small groan. How long he'd been unravelling in his own brain, he had no idea, yet it was long enough for the hoarseness that she usually got after a nap to enter her voice. "Go to sleep, baby," she said. "You're going to be exhausted tomorrow."

"Can't."

"You can."

Y/N pulled his body so that he was fully on top of her and wrapped her arms around him. Spencer felt her start to move her hand up and down his spine in a gentle rhythm and her other hand cupped the back of his head, holding him close as she slowly rocked them side to side. She began to hum a tune, cradling him almost like he was a 6'2" big baby, and let him relax in her arms. It worked. It always did. Within minutes, he was snoring into her shoulder. He did that thing that men do when they suddenly spasm for no apparent reason because their body can't believe it's finally getting some down time, but eventually it evened out.

Once the early morning arrived, Y/N was beginning to stir. She awoke to the soft gentle presses of her husband's lips against the skin of her stomach, his head lifting up the bottom of her sleep shirt to plant a kiss on her belly. For the past month or so, she'd often woken up to him mumbling a hushed conversation to her abdomen. She'd pretended not to hear it and let him continue for as long as he wanted to, thoroughly enjoying his affection and the way it would send a shiver of pleasure straight through her body. And today was no different.

Only when it became clear that he wasn't planning on getting up anytime soon did she begin to move and acknowledge the fact that she was actually awake and aware. Massaging his shoulders, she cooed, "Morning handsome," and he mumbled something unintelligible as he buried his face in her stomach again, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

Reid was not a morning person. Not in the slightest. Y/N had learned very early on that the best way to force him to get up in the morning was to get herself up and he would mimic her. It usually worked like a charm. But this morning, he'd trapped her legs beneath his body and was keeping her hips pinned to the mattress with his. This man was heavy. He was gangly and lanky and looked like a twig but could feel like a tonne of bricks when he wanted to. And he was trying to keep her pinned down, which meant he wanted something.

"Let me up, you big brute," she teased as she wriggled her hips to try to get away from him. Spencer laughed at her attempt and she gave up the moment his big hands landed on her hips to keep them still. He lifted his head up, the smile on his face making his eyes crinkle.

"Morning beautiful."

"I take it you're not ready to get up for work just yet?" He shook his head as he ran his hand up and down her waist, keeping his eyes on hers. "You know we'll have to eventually, right?"

"I do. I also know I'm going to have to be pretty convincing to get you to stay." He pressed a kiss to her navel. "But."

One more kiss placed just under the previous one on her abdomen. "I am."

Another on her pelvis. "Willing."

Two more, one on each thigh, his palms pushing her legs apart to give him more space to settle in the gap. "To. Be."

Finally, he let his lips fall to her underwear-covered pubic bone in the barest whisper of a kiss, one that set off a small firestorm of desire that shot straight to her core. "Very, very convincing."

At the beginning of their relationship, they'd come up with the rule that they wouldn't give in to their desire whilst on the job. When they first got together, that was mostly a way to make them seem as unsuspecting as possible. Their coworkers were profilers for god sake! Even the slightest smudge of her lipstick on the corner of his mouth and Derek would be giving Spencer a patronising clap on the back and a "My man."

Now it was out in the open, it was mainly a professional courtesy. It would look awful if two FBI agents comforted a grieving family with mussed hair and incorrectly buttoned shirts. There were exceptions, though. And why not? They had plenty of time before they were expected to show up at work. They were in the privacy of their hotel room with the nearest member of their team (Emily) six rooms away. The rule could be morphed into a suggestion, and it's easier to ignore suggestions.

"Can I convince you?" He let his lips curl upwards at the corners as he gave her a kiss over her underwear with an exaggerated 'mwah'. He added on a desperate sigh of "Please?" to seal the deal.

"You can try."

"Well then, lie back and enjoy yourself, Mrs Reid," he responded cheekily, pulling her underwear down her thighs and off in the general direction of her suitcase that sat by the dresser.

With that, he got to it. He started by licking and nipping at the inside of her thighs, making sure to get up higher with each bite until his lips touched her clit and he flicked it with his tongue. Her head fell back as she arched into his mouth, giving him better access to do whatever the hell he wanted to her. His hands cupped her butt, keeping her pressed up against his mouth as he worked her into a frenzy.

"Mrs Reid, you are so beautiful."

Her eyes fluttered shut as she let herself go. The pressure of his mouth, his hands, his stubble. Her man could make her come in no time at all. The more he gave her, the more she wanted. And the more she wanted, the more he gave her. It was a lovely cycle that gave them both what they wanted.

The slow slide of his fingers moved under her shirt and up to her bare breasts. He teased her nipples into hard points, his touch sure and demanding, and just was needed to make her moan out his name. "Spencer, oh god, Spence."

Thanks to one particularly forceful suck on her clit, Y/N was grabbing at Spencer's curls, trying to hold him to her while he drove her towards the edge. But it wasn't enough just yet.

"Fingers too, baby."

"Where are your manners, honey?"

"Jesus fucking christ, are you serious?" She huffed and had planned to fully argue some more but gave up almost immediately. "Fine! Please finger me, my loving husband."

"That is more like it."

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he used two fingers to part her folds and slip them inside of her. She was wet and ready for him, and he made quick work of finding her G-spot, mumbling a little "Ah, there it is," when she got a smidge louder. He curled his fingers at the same pace as his tongue swirled around her clit. It was a rough and slow rhythm that made her writhe and squirm.

"Can feel these legs shaking. You close, pretty girl? You want me to keep going, don't you?"

"Uh-huh, keep going."

"Tell me. Say it. Say it all pretty like you always do."

So, she did. Her voice was all breathy and whiny as she got out the words he wanted to hear. "You're so good, gonna cum, gonna cum. So good to me."

Y/N felt her orgasm catch up with her, her muscles tensing up as she was taken over by the wave of pleasure. It swept over her in seconds, stealing her breath and leaving her weak in the knees. She dug her nails into Spencer's shoulders, curling her toes into the bed to keep herself grounded as she felt the aftershocks ripple through her.

"Good job, baby," she praised, grinning down at him. "What's next on the agenda this morning?"

Spencer's smile was so goofy - looking as if he drunk off the taste of her, and maybe he was - as he moved himself back up the bed to kiss her neck, his grin making it impossible for the kisses to be anything but a press of teeth against soft skin. He kissed up and up and up until he reached her ear, whispering, "I’m not done with you yet, honey. If you ask me nicely, I'll fuck you so good," against the shell.

Whenever Spencer swore, it was always surprising to her. And when he swore like that, it sounded more dirty than if a frequently swearing man had done it. As if his mouth was filled with those words but had been pushing them down and down - they'd been sitting there for a while, just brewing - and in the wait, had grown a mind of their own.

"C'mon, Spence, get your cock out and put it in me already. I wanna feel you, please?" she asked, exaggerating the 'please' so he couldn't call her rude again.

"Yeah, you want more?" he teased, squeezing her ass in his big palm.

"Damn right, I do."

"I'll get right to it then, my pretty baby."

As he nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing the skin there, let her head fall back on the pillow, let out a giggle when he bit at her jaw and pushed his head away, laughing even harder when he tried to playfully bite her fingers.

"Weirdo."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you're married to me so that makes you Mrs Weirdo by default. You signed yourself up for all this, honey."

Tugging his boxers down, she gave him a light a slap on the ass, the sound of smack loud in the quiet of the room. "Married you just for the marital tax deduction," she joked, but she couldn't help but mischievously grin so he absolutely knew she was just messing around. Obviously she told him that she loved him lots yet he still struggled to comprehend that some days. So, she made sure whenever she teased him that he was fully aware that she didn't mean it.

"And I married you because I love you," he responded, far more sincerely than she had thought he would've, and positioned himself at her entrance, his cock jutting up against her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in deep. "And I love making you feel good."

The slow, teasing pace of their foreplay was broken by his sudden, hard thrust as he entered her. It was so intense, and the way he held her hips pressed against his, grinding into her and pinning her to the bed with his weight, was so possessive and so deliberate that it left her breathless.

At first, it always took a moment - just a small one - where he rested his forehead on her shoulder and let them both adjust to the feeling of him inside her. But then, he was never one to rush, and he'd make sure they both felt entirely comfortable. And once they were, his hand gripped her ass cheek, and he pumped into her in a slow, steady rhythm. "I love fucking you, Y/N," he murmured, the words thick with feeling. "So goddamn perfect, you. I'm never letting you go."

It was a line he'd used on her a lot. I'm never letting you go. You are my world. My universe. My life. And I am yours, and you are mine. They were such simple statements but they said exactly what they needed to. Because she knew they were true.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his back, curling her body against his as he began to move, his thrusts getting more frantic and his kisses more desperate. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she arched her back in a desperate attempt to bring him closer, to feel him even deeper, to feel him harder. His breath was harsh, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs and pulling them closer to her chest as he fucked her.

"I love you so much, Y/N. You're my everything. You're my... my..." he trailed off, hitting a hard thrust into her. " You're my life. I can't believe I get to wake up every morning next to you. Let's quit our jobs and stay in bed forever, you and me. Just you and me. Don't you want that? Don't you want that more than anything?"

One thing is for certain, he'd go mad if he had no cases to figure out like a sinister rubix cube. But Y/N, well, she'd often thought about what her life would be like if she left the BAU behind. Profiling was in the very fabric of Spencer's DNA, and without his cases, he'd be lost.

"Forever in bed with you, baby? I'll take it."

"Uh-huh, you take it, honey," he mumbled into her skin, his hips hitting a spot that sent a shockwave of delight through her core. "You take it so good."

A whimper escaped her lips as he increased his tempo, his hips slamming against her in a way that made her feel cherished, like she was his only source of joy in their hectic, difficult life. Y/N arched her back, her orgasm building, her body tensing, every muscle tightening in anticipation. They were both so close, so desperate for each other, that Spencer used his one hand to keep his wife's ankle over his shoulder and the other was pushing her thigh as far open as her flexibility allowed to get as deep as he physically could inside of her. "Baby, I'm going to..." he managed to say, his voice strained, his breathing heavy.

Then, with a final thrust, he came. Not just the usual orgasmic feeling that came with a good fuck, but a burst of energy so strong it knocked the breath out of her and sent her tumbling over the edge of pleasure, falling into a blissful, fucked out headspace for the next however many minutes.

Spencer collapsed on top of her, every muscle in his body tingling. "That was..." he couldn't even believe it. "So good. I'm not sure I'll ever top that." He laughed, a full-body, carefree sound that was the best thing she'd ever heard. Y/N laughed, too, watching as he rolled off of her and onto his back, his hair falling in a ruffled, sexy mess around his face. It was impossible to resist running her fingers through his hair, the feeling of his thick, curly locks against her hand so comforting, so calming.

"We should shower."

"I thought you wanted to quit our jobs and stay in bed forever?" Y/N parroted his words back to him, rolling onto her side to face him.

"We smell of sex." He got out of bed and held his hands out to his wife to help her to her feet. "Come on, stinky."

By the time they were showered and dressed, none of their coworkers would know how Spencer had made her go briefly brain dead that very morning.

This case wasn't solved on their first visit. The unsub had either been tipped off or was closely following the investigation and went dormant for enough time that Hotch moved them on, which wasn't an unusual thing to happen. It was annoying, though.

There was some guy out there whose perfect victim was Y/N. Even as they got on with their lives and solved other cases, that fact remained in the back of Spencer's head. He couldn't forget it - mostly because he doesn't forget anything - but he knew that if he hadn't been born with this gift, that it would be the same. With this guy still out in the world, Y/N was in danger every time she went out in public. It was hard to breathe while he was thinking about that.

Two months later, the unsub killed again and the team was brought back. This time Spencer was determined to find him.

The same officer who'd lectured her about bitcoin once again cornered Y/N, but this time, she had her husband by her side. Previously, he'd been a little pushy but once Y/N had told him that she was in a relationship, he backed off. Now, he greeted her with, "I remember you being slimmer."

What? Did he think that was an acceptable way to say hello?

"Funny, I have an eidetic memory - that means I remember just about anything I deem important - and I don't remember you. Weird," Spencer shot back, his tone icy.

Instantly, the officer's jaw dropped. "I, um, I just - "

"We've been on the jet for the past few hours, mind giving us some space?" Spencer suggested and the officer flushed a bright red, backing off immediately. Y/N caught Spencer's eye and gave him a quick squeeze on the bicep to say thanks, and was rewarded with a wink that was far too flirty for a work environment.

Garcia gave them another rundown of the case, briefly going over what they had before and adding the new revelations at the end. The killer had fucked up. The most recent victim had bite marks on her shoulder so they had a very good insight at what the killer's teeth looked like. Whoever he was, he was missing his top canines and if they were to look into his mouth, there would be an obvious gap.

Part way through Garcia's rundown Spencer very subtly reached into his pocket, pulled out a granola bar and slid it towards his wife. She ate it with a smug little smile on her face.

"That's new," Emily pointed out. "There was no bite mark at the last crime scene."

"Biting as a form of attack is usually used as an act of self defence," Derek added.

Hotch let out a gruff noise, one that was toneless and no indicator of whether he thought that was a correct assumption or not. He had a talent for that - bland, unemotional responses that encourages more discussion without leaning the conversation one way or the other.

"That would only make sense if the marks were inflicted perimortem or pre-mortem, but judging by the lack of redness and blood splatter around the puncture of the skin, this bite was done post mortem," Spencer explained, gesturing with the tip of his pen at the area around the teeth marks.

"This guy has escalated to biting his victim's after he's killed them, why?" Y/N posed the question once she'd finished chewing and the room was silent for a second before Rossi spoke up.

"A killer I interviewed back in the early 90's did the same thing. For him, he believed he was absorbing the life essences from his victims, he was consuming what little of them remained when he bit them."

Emily let out a bitter scoff. "Even after taking their lives, it's still not enough for this guy. He needs to annihilate what's left of their soul."

"Maybe he thinks he's collecting souls for the afterlife like how Zodiac believed his victim's would become his slaves once he passed on?" Y/N thought out loud and the room went still, all of them thinking it simultaneously.

"Whatever the case, the guy is a freak," Derek stated, and they all nodded in agreement because yeah. He was a freak.

Just before they'd gone off into their own research teams, Hotch called put, "Y/N, would you mind holding back a few minutes? I need to speak with you," and although she knew she hadn't done anything to warrant a stern talking to, it still felt like being sent to the principal's office.

"I'll catch up with you in a sec, Spence."

Closing the door once Spencer was on the other side, Hotch sighed. "I know what your answer will be but I feel obligated to ask, do you want to give this one a miss?"

Y/N looked over at him and the corners of her mouth turned up just a little. "You think I'm going soft, Aaron?" She teased, and he grinned at her.

"I know Reid's been giving you an earful."

"He always does."

Something that sounded like a chuckle came from Hotch's throat but it died before it could fully form as his eyes caught the opened case file on the desk, the photo of Y/N's dead doppelganger paperclipped in the corner of the page. "And if we run out of options?"

"As long as you can guarantee that I can blame everything on you so Spencer doesn't stay mad at me for the next year, I'm still up for being a decoy," she clarified. "We've got to catch this guy."

"I will take the blame."

"You better."

Eventually, they found everything about the guy. Garcia cross referenced this with that and then that with this to find out the guy's name was Leyton Hart, his father died when he was young and his mother was an addict who he was still living with despite the fact he was raised mostly by his next door neighbour, a young girl that was only a few years older than him. This neighbour, who they became aware was once called Isla Wiley, was the first victim. She was Y/N's doppelganger.

Infuriatingly, the only thing they couldn't find was where the hell he was now. He wasn't at home, nor at the smart car customer help desk he worked at. They checked his credit cards, they tried calling his cell, they checked with his boss and his mum, nothing.

"You think he's left the area?" Derek asked.

"It's not impossible," Emily replied. "He went dormant for months once we'd caught his scent, he may be prepared to do it again."

Spencer began, "If we could draw him out -" and stopped as soon as his brain caught up with his mouth. He cleared his throat. "Ignore that."

Rossi could see the silent conversation Y/N and Hotch were having and decided that he'd be the bad guy in this scenario to save both of them from doing it. "No, that could work, Reid. And we have an asset to do so," David announced, readying himself for whatever was about to happen to happen.

"Y/N is not an asset, she is a person! And we can't risk a member of our team in the hopes of catching this guy! Her being on this case is risky enough as it is!"

Reid's chest was rising and falling faster as he tried to keep his temper in check. His vision was getting more red by the second. His fingers were drumming against the table. The blood was rushing to his ears. He felt sick.

"We are not risking my wife's safety to catch this guy!"

Y/N rested her hand over Spencer's, her middle finger tracing over his wedding ring. "This could be our best shot," she said quietly, and he knew at that exact moment that the subject had been brought up with her beforehand and she hadn't mentioned it to him.

He felt sicker than he'd ever felt in his life.

"I don't care!"

"Spencer," Y/N said sternly, her tone made it very clear she was warning him to stop and think about this before he said something he couldn't take back. She squeezed his fingers gently, her thumb rubbing along his knuckles before he whipped his hand away.

"God, I can't believe you're putting this before everything else."

"We could save a bunch more women. Think of the families, Spencer. We have a chance to give them some peace."

"What about my family? Do you really think I'm going to just -" He was shaking his head as he spoke, trying his best to find a way to reason with her, to convince her to stop. He knew he was failing. And because he was failing, he decided to take himself out of the situation before he said something drastic and lost his job. "You know what, good luck, honey. I'll be waiting for you if you come home."

And he walked out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him. Y/N rubbed at her eyes, taking a few deep breaths and letting out a groan. "Well, that went spectacularly," she mumbled, then rubbed her neck as she looked over at Hotch. "Sorry about that."

"He'll come around," Morgan said.

Prentiss agreed. "Eventually."

"If I had to guess, putting this bozo behind bars will speed that process up." Rossi reached across the desk and patted Y/N affectionately on the hand. "Trust me, I've been married enough times by now to know."

Raising an eyebrow, Hotch posed the question 'Are you still on board with this?' with just his face and only confirmed, "Let's start planning," when she nodded.

While the squad figured out the details, Y/N went in search of her husband. They may have differing opinions on what should go down but she still wanted to comfort him and make sure he was okay. She found him in the back seat of their hire car outside eating a sandwich, taking big aggressive bites, and staring off into the parking lot bush in front of the windscreen. He didn't even look up when he heard her open the door and sit in the seat on the other side of the car. He chewed, swallowed, and kept on looking.

Wordlessly, she slid across to the middle seat and let her head fall onto his shoulder. He didn't move, just kept on chewing, his Adam's apple bobbing as it swallowed the last of his food. After a while, he sighed and leaned back in the seat, resting his head on the headrest as he closed his eyes.

"I know you're worried, baby," she said softly, stroking his arm to get a little more of his attention. "But I can do it, and I will. I don't need you to protect me but I'm very touched that you did. Thank you for looking out for me."

"You're welcome," he replied bitterly. "I'd say you're all set to go then, yeah?"

"Babe..."

She smiled sadly, cradling his head in her palm. He'd been through a lot in his life, she knew that. She'd been there for a lot of it. A lot had gone on back when they were just pals. And even more had happened now they were something different. Going off the basis of his experiences, his concern was fully warranted.

"I'm so selfish. I care about you and I love you and I don't want anyone to touch a hair on your head. This guy... this guy shouldn't get to breathe the same air you do after what he's done." He opened his eyes and finally focused on her, the light of the setting sun illuminating his face in such a way that it made him look like a sad angel. "I can't lose you too, baby."

"If I don't, more women will die."

"If you die, my entire world ends," he choked out, his entire face contorted with misery. "It would be like the sun went out. As if I was a pontifex and my Goddess had been suddenly ripped from my hands, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Obviously, she couldn't guarantee her survival. They both knew that. Y/N closed her eyes and held her breath, trying not to cry as she felt him grip on her jacket, digging his fingers into her elbow as if to anchor her there. She couldn't bring herself to say anything though. She could hear the anguish in his voice, the horror of it, and it was all her fault for being born with the face she had.

The hand on her elbow moved down to find her hip as he pulled her closer into him, resting on her stomach when he was satisfied with the lack of space between them. She rested her head against his shoulder and let herself feel his pain.

"We'll get him," she whispered. "We'll catch this bastard. And we'll get through this."

Tilting her chin up, she caught his lips with hers in a gentle kiss and held on for just a moment before pulling back. "You had a club sandwich," she pointed out playfully, tasting what was left on his lips and feeling her smile broaden. "Making me kinda hungry."

"Let's go get you some lunch."

Before she had comprehended what he said, he was getting out and moving into the driver's seat. They left to get some food - getting in an order for what everyone else on the team wanted whilst they were there - and smoothed out their emotional spikes to settle into a more stable state to prepare for later on.

Then later came. Y/N had been dressed up in an outfit similar to one that Isla had been photographed in - a stripy shirt, denim dungaree and espadrilles - and told to phone the customer service desk for the smart car they'd given her for breakdown help. Once Leyton Hart, who'd managed to reroute the calls that were supposed to go to his work computer to his personal cell, had confirmed that he was on his way to the secluded patch of road Y/N had 'broken down' at, it was a waiting game.

Most of the team were not that far away, around 30 yards behind a thicket of trees. Far enough away to not be seen if he wasn't looking too hard and close enough that they'd be able to make it to help Y/N out in a minute if she needed it.

Sitting in the car, Y/N listened to the hum of the radio and let her legs dangle off the seat and out into the opened door, swinging them to the beat until Penelope warned her, "Incoming!" through comms and she stopped immediately. Y/N could feel him coming, sense him even though she couldn't see him just yet. "Here we go," Penny told the others, keeping her voice low and her eyes glued on the road ahead as his pickup truck came into view.

There was no mistaking the man in the truck. Y/N's gut twisted and she tasted bile in the back of her throat at the sight of him as he got out of the truck and strode towards her. She painted a smile on her face, greeting him with a friendly, "Hi, you are a lifesaver! This stupid car just -"

Before she could finish her sentence, he did something they never predicted he'd do and whacked her in the temple with a ratchet wrench. Y/N's body went limp and she slumped into Leyton's waiting arms as her vision went dark.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" was all Spencer could manage to get out of his mouth as he ran forward to reach her before she was placed in the back of the truck. Hotch raced after him and managed to tackle him to the grass before Leyton noticed them, which would compromise Y/N even further.

Spencer's worst fears were becoming a reality. A serial killer just drove off with the love of his life and his boss had prevented him from intervening.

However much time later, Y/N winced herself awake and looked blearily around. She had no idea how long she'd been out, but she knew for sure she was not in a good situation. She had a throbbing headache and her neck was sore from being arched over for what felt like hours. And she was on a very dirty and gross floor with one hand cuffed to a radiator. It was dark, which she thought was probably for the best for her headache, and cold. She was shivering as she tried to blink the blurriness out of her eyes and get her bearings.

For now, she was alone.

There was no telling how long she'd been out for. Minutes? Hours? A couple of them? It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was alive and that she had to get out of here..Grimacing against the pain, she rolled onto her side and pushed herself to a sitting position. The world tilted a bit and she grabbed the edge of the nearest wall to steady herself. The cuffs cut into her wrists and her ankles were getting achy. Overall, it wasn't a great time.

Then, the sound of a key in a lock and the door to the warehouse creaked open, light from the outside glinting dully off the metal floor. "Hello Isla," a deep voice said. "Didn't expect you to be awake."

Going along with this fantasy of his would probably be best. That would give the team time to find them. If there was one thing Penelope was good at was finding a needle in a haystack and, by the look of her surroundings, they were a small needle.

Wherever she was, it was so basic that nothing really stuck out. There was only the radiator she was attached to, a sturdy looking wooden chair, and a cardboard box with a children's book on the top. No windows, concrete floor, metal door, and an industrial overhead lamp that Leyton switched on with a flick of his wrist.

"I knew you'd come back to me," Leyton said, a gleam in his eye. "I knew you would if I gathered enough souls to bargain. You said we could watch cartoons when you came back, can we watch cartoons?"

"Of course we can," Y/N said with a grin. She struggled to ignore the aching in her neck and the twinge in her arms and legs as she spoke. "We can watch whatever you want to watch."

"Whatever?"

"Yeah. Whatever."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Leyton smiled, leaned his head in closer to hers, and whispered, "I'm so glad you're back." Y/N shivered and pushed away the sudden urge to puke, not only because his breath wasn't the best but this creep was so close to her face she could see his spit in his mouth. "You know, you're not going to leave me ever again, right?

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said softly.

Like a child, he jumped up and down on the spot. They'd classified this guy as an organised killer, a sophisticated guy that plans his kills and chooses his moments. But his current demeanour had proven otherwise. This guy was someone who had been stunted socially as a young teen and desperately needed this kind of affection and approval. Maybe he'd devolved.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I didn't want to."

"You did what you had to. I understand that," she lied. "You were protecting me."

"Yes! I was! I'm so glad you can see that now!"

Y/N coughed, hiding the way her face fell by itching her cheek with her shoulder as soon as he looked away from her. As soon as he heard her cough, all of a sudden, he scrambled onto the floor and plonked his head down in her lap. "There, there, Isla," he said, stroking her thigh. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm so sorry."

Having a serial killer cuddle up to you was weird, to say the least.

"I f-forgive you," she stuttered, before looking down at him with shining eyes and hesitantly reaching her free hand towards his hair. His eyes widened and he leaned further into her hand as he waited for her to touch him. Her fingertips brushed against his thick hair as she caressed the top of his head.

They stayed in that position for more time than Y/N would care to admit.

There was a pang of something in her chest as she watched him nuzzle into her hand and close his eyes as if in bliss. She didn't have time to really feel any sort of pity for Leyton since the metal door suddenly burst open and Spencer came into view, his gun out in front of him.

"Step away," Spencer hissed as he came to a stop in front of her. His face was furious as he cocked his head to the side. "Keep your hands off her."

"But she's mine," Leyton said, a look of innocent bewilderment on his face that soon changed to mindless fury as he pulled himself free of her lap and charged at this random guy pointing a gun at him.

Instead of shooting the killer, Spencer chucked his weapon to the ground and swung at the guy, his fist connecting with Leyton's cheek and then getting another blow to his stomach as he doubled over. Spencer landed punch after punch after punch on the killer's face and body, and Leyton got a few good jabs in before he dropped like a sack of potatoes, blood gushing from his nose and mouth. Yet, Spencer still wasn't done. He was vicious. It was cruel.

And it was the most spiteful thing she'd ever see her husband do.

Derek rushed into the room with Emily hot on his heels. Morgan got Reid by the waist and yanked him away from the fight just as he got another shot in. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and backed away from Leyton, who was coughing and spitting up blood onto the concrete floor. Spencer gave a look of disgust as he stepped away from the twitching Leyton and came to a stop in front of Y/N. His chest heaved as he wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, slumping to sit in front of her as he dropped to the ground.

"Hi honey," he said, leaning in and touching the bump on her forehead with his index finger. "You're bleeding."

"So are you."

"That was... that was..." He shook his head, not knowing how to describe the fight.

"It was," she replied. "I'm glad you won."

"Me too."

As Derek cuffed Leyton Hart, Emily was searching around for the keys to let Y/N out of her cuffs. The moment she was free, Y/N flung herself into her husband's arms and buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "You didn't sleep," she commented, seeing the heavy bags under his eyes and noticing how strong the scent of coffee emanating from him was. He always smelt a little like coffee but this was, BANG, right in your face and kind of overwhelming.

"Couldn't."

The floor was a thick layer of grime and old blood covering it so Y/N guided Spencer to stand and pushed him out of the door. In the heat of the moment, he seemed to be fine with all the germs but once his adrenaline depleted itself, he would get very agitated about it. She knew that for certain.

Soon enough, Hotch sorted everything out and after a quick trip to the medic, the couple were allowed to retreat to their hotel room to clean up and rest. On her way past her boss, Hotch stopped her to ask if she was okay, how many days off would she like and, "Who knew Dr Reid could be that - what's the word? - defensive?"

"Leyton Hart put his wife and child on the line, that's a lot to defend, I guess."

"Get some rest, L/N."

"Aye aye, captain."

They got to the hotel room in no time, both in desperate need for a reprieve from other people.

"I'm sorry," Spencer said, his breath hitching as he spoke. "About everything. I just... I couldn't control myself. I don't know what happened."

"This is totally fucked up for me to say but you looked hot - totally scary and intense and, honestly, I could go through my life and be happy if I never saw that side of you again - but, yeah, kinda sexy," Y/N admitted, bending over to start the taps on the bath tub.

"Oh. I, uh, I don't know how to compartmentalise that."

"That's okay. I don't either."

After having a preliminary shower to get most of the dirt off before Y/N got in the bath, she sunk into the warm water, leaning her head back against the tile wall as she closed her eyes and let the stress of the day wash over her. She tried not to disturb Spencer who had decided that it was now his turn to take a shower. He would be scrubbing himself with antibacterial soap for the next few minutes so she could just lay back and listen to the odd sounds her husband would make every now and then as he scoured every inch of his skin with his silicone bath brush that he brought with them wherever they went.

If he was on a deserted island - first off: sand, ew - and he could bring one thing, he'd probably bring that brush. ...Or a flare gun.

When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and knelt on the tiles next to the bathtub, looking at her as she lay there, soaking in the water.

"You okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"We need to talk about this, you know?" he retorted, running his hand down the length of her arm and conjoining their hands. He perched his chin on the porcelain. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Did he do anything that might've hurt the baby?"

"Not that I know of. We should make an appointment just to make sure."

Her thumb rubbed against his knuckles, hoping to ease some of the redness from his skin. "Let me kiss it all better, baby," she murmured, letting her lips fall to his bicep. Then to his forearm. The wrist. The palm. Then she turned his hand over so she could press gentle kisses to his busted knuckles. His fingers were long and slender and looked too delicate to hurt - or cause such damage - but they had, and now they were all busted up.

The few punches Leyton managed to get on him were mostly to the face. He had a black eye on the right and a red jaw on the other. Y/N was quick to cover those areas with love. Spencer watched her attentively, a million emotions and reactions dancing across his face as he tried to reconcile all the things he was feeling. But, for now, all he could do was accept whatever affection she thought he was worth.

He leaned forward and gently kissed her, tasting the faintest hint of blood on her lips, then he kissed her again, and again, and again, until she was drowning in the taste of him and had to break apart for a moment to breathe. When they finally came up for air, Y/N guided her husband's head to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder, kissing his temple and running her fingers through his hair. They stayed like that, embracing in the bathroom, until the water grew cold and they moved their embrace to the couch.

Spencer pulled Y/N onto his lap, her knees digging into the crevice between couch cushions on either side of Spencer's hips as she settled in. He started by moving his hands up and down her back but couldn't resist the paternal urge to focus his attention on her stomach. His thumbs caressed the underside of her belly, sliding across the stretch of her bump.

For now, she'd been able to hide her pregnancy with baggier clothes but it was soon going to become apparent what was happening.

"I may have let it slip about little Reid to Hotch."

"Well, you're beginning to show and you've been very vocal about how hungry you always are in the office... I assume he already knew," Spencer reassured him, lightly trailing kisses down the side of Y/N's neck and pausing at her collarbone. "I'm sure he knew before we figured it out."

"I'm sure he did.”

She tilted his chin so he had to look into her eyes, smiling when he did so. "It's going to be okay, you know," she continued, eyes bright. "You're going to be a great dad, and we'll get through this." Spencer didn't respond but his eyes were so bright and full of love that she knew he heard her.

Y/N smiled wider, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in and pressed her lips to her husband's. It was a long, slow, tender kiss that said everything it needed to.

[leigh-kay]

Phone Calls || Ethan Landry

warnings// overused gf phonecall smut plot, you all mad at me for cutting it short probably, she touches herself and he watches lol, ethan being a menace, degradation <3

She was alone when the phone rang, watching her favorite show. She was biting into a piece of the watermelon she'd grabbed in the kitchen when it startled her into dropping it.

"Hello?" she huffed, picking up the piece from her comforter.

"Hello y/n," the rasp was unmistakable to her ears.

Reagrdless, her eyes rolled, "Turn that stupid thing off. You made me drop my watermelon you jerk."

He sighed on the other end of the line, cutting the voice changer, "You know I thought it'd be funny-"

"To call me using your serial killer persona voice? Ha. I find it hilarious."

"You said it was hot when I showed up covered in blood ," she could hear his pout.

Switching to speaker phone, she sat the phone on the pillow beside her, "It was. Hell even the voice effect is... something. But your voice is my favorite."

She continued to eat her fruit, smiling at the sound of his silence at the end of the line.

He never knew how to take compliments. His flustered behavior gave her an idea. Why not push his limits?

"You sound pretty all the time but I love when you whisper in my ear. Or when you get all grumpy and assertive and sound all... aggressive."

He can tell what she's up to, and it has the opposite effect she'd imagined. Rather than turn bashful, he cuts straight to the very tone she'd talked about.

"Is that so, baby?"

"Mhm," she smiles, though he can't see her.

"Now that I think about it... you do fall apart so easily with just a few words," he's tempting with his words, "dont you pretty?"

The fruit is moved to her bed side table as she readjusts in her sheets, "The words you choose to say play a part too you know."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Heat floods her body as she thinks of all the different things he says. When she's on top of him. When she's pinned beneath him. How he begs when he's in her mouth.

"When you call me yours."

"And don't forget it. What else?"

She can feel her panties as they catch the heat pouring out of her.

"How you say my name when you.." she trails off, eyes shut.

"When I what baby?"

A sigh rushes out of her, "when you're inside of me."

"You just love when I fuck you, don't you?"

Her fingers trail to the line of her shorts, inching them down, "You know I do."

He could hear the slight whine in her voice, "Are you touching yourself?"

She gave no answer as her fingers run through her slit.

"Answer me slut."

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes mr. psycho killer," she snorted.

"Don't roll your eyes at me baby," his voice was less angry and more teasing, "now you're gonna do what I say, yeah?"

She'd come to the conclusion that he was watching her. Which also led her to believe that if she did as she was told, he'd fuck her the way she really wanted. Deal.

"Yes sir," she smiled, eyes wandering to the window at the far side of the room. She imagined he'd be sitting there, up in the tree beside it, watching her.

"Good. Now, play with that pretty pussy just like I would hm?"

She didn't need to be told twice. Slow circles across her clit made bumps break on her skin. She could feel her temperature rising as she grew needier with the teasing touches she granted herself.

"Look at you, teasing yourself just like I would. I bet you wish it was me though," she could hear the pride in his voice and while it annoyed her, orgasms trumped annoyance any day.

She took a breath, "Ethan please."

"Please what baby?"

"Just come in and touch me," she tried to keep her composure, "I'll do anything."

"Make yourself come and we'll talk about me touching you."

She groaned in frustration, "feels so much better when its you though!"

He laughed in a breath, "I know it does. But i want to watch you."

She knew he'd get what he wanted. He always did with that smile and those stupid fucking brown eyes of his. Disagreements were nonexistent the moment he made her look at him and shes pissed at the fact just picturing him is enough to make her more agreeable.

Regardless, her fingers slip into her cunt as she mumbles his name, dragging through her in a quick speed.

"Faster, angel," he demands.

"Please," she moans, "keep talking baby, please"

"God you're a whore. Touching yourself to my voice?"

Fucking hell.

Her eyes squeeze shut as he continues, "Such a pretty whore though hm? My pretty whore."

She nodded, curling her fingers in just the right way to make her whine.

"Sound so needy too, can't fucking wait to touch you honey."

She curses as she falls apart, crying his name and within seconds her closet door is thrown open.

A scream fills her room as he steps into the light.

"Fuck you!" she huffs, shooting daggers into the man ten feet away.

"You knew I was watching," he grins, making his eay towards her before crawling ontop of her.

"You know you say my name so pretty when you come?" he teases.

She finds her eyes rolling again as she glares up at him, "You said you'd fuck me if I listened."

He laughs, fingers stroking the column of her neck as he takes her lips on his own. She was perfect for him. So needy and so fucking mean. He loved it. He loved her.

Her fingers find home in his hair as she wraps her legs around his waist, dragging him closer into her.

The hand beside her head is supporting him as his free hand locks on her waist, holding her to the mattress beneath them.

As she gives a particularly sharp tug to his hair, he gasps into the kiss, hand rushing to her throat. As he sinks his fingertips into the flesh of her neck, she grins into the kiss hes pressing to her lips, "Harder."

He fights the laugh in his throat as she stares up at him, "You're in no place to make demands."

Before she can utter another word, he's squeezing tighter and letting his mouth cover the space across her chest, enjoying the way her body reacts to every move he makes. The way her back arched and her hips would roll against nothing gave him a pride he'd never had before her. She gave him a lot of things he'd never had before.

"I think," he began to drag his hand over her still dripping pussy, "I want a taste."

Her body shivered at the contact as he got between her legs. She could feel that she was insanely wet, but his commentary on it made her body burn with embarassment.

"You get so wet for me," he grinned, pressing his lips along the insides of her thighs.

Her hands attach to his shoulders as his mouth connects with her clit, tongue immediately rolling over it in slow motions. As her hips rose from the bed, his hands locked around her waist, forcing them down.

Her head fell back as his fingers slipped inside of her. She knew she was in for a long fucking night.

[beansmack2021]

All For You (Human!Alastor x Daughter! Reader)

TW: Implied cannibalism, mentions of murder, blood, mentions of snakes, mentions of vomit

Alastor would be a great father, even with his serial killer tendencies

It was raining a bit. Whenever it rained, Y/N's father insisted that the two sit in the living room and listen to the radio together. He'd read the paper while she'd finish yet another novel.

Alastor was a kind and loving father. Y/N would come home from school to venison on the stove top. He'd plant a kiss on her forehead and she'd put her schoolbag in her room before returning to the table for dinner.

She'd never suspected that there was a monster wearing her father's skin.

She was feeling under the weather, her skin hot to the touch. She'd gone to see the school nurse, who told her that she should go home early. Y/N stumbled along, dizzy and warm, and was short of breath by the time she'd finally made it home.

She opened the door, expecting to see her father on the sofa, reading the paper and listening to the radio. She dropped her bag on the floor with a loud thud. Her father wasn't on the sofa. He was on his knees, on the floor, carving up a human carcass.

He looked up at her, smile never once leaving his face. "Hello, dear! You're home early." He stood up, hands still bloody, and walked over to the sink. He scrubbed at his palms with soap, dried them on a dishrag, and walked over to where she still stood, staring open-mouthed at what looked to be the dead body of the man that lived down the street.

"Daddy, what... what is this?" She didn't flinch as Alastor squatted a bit so their faces would be more level.

"Your cheeks are awfully rosie, darling. Are you feeling alright?" Y/N shook her head. Alastor put his palm to her forehead and frowned. "Seems you have a fever. Straight to bed with you, young lady. I'll make some soup for dinner."

How could he not acknowledge the scene his daughter had walked into? He'd pretended that everything was completely fine, nothing out of the ordinary.

Alastor ushered her down the hallway, to her bedroom, and tucked her into bed. He put his hand to her head again, and she couldn't help but close her eyes and sigh with relief at how cold his palms felt. "Would you like me to bring you a damp cloth, dear?"

Anything to get him away from her. She decided, in her sickly haze, that she wasn't well enough to fight him off. She needed to bide some time. She needed to seem unbothered by what she'd seen.

Alastor stood from the edge of her mattress and went to the kitchen, where she could hear the water running. He came back, put the washcloth on her forehead, and told her he'd be back later with medicine and her supper.

She nodded and hummed. She wanted desperately to stay awake, to stay conscious so that she could be aware of whatever her father might do, but she couldn't help slipping into unconsciousness.

When she woke up, it was darker outside. She felt a shiver down her spine and pulled the cloth from her forehead, dropping it on the floor next to her bed. She coughed hoarsely and heard a knock at the door before Alastor slipped into the room.

"Hello, darling. How are we feeling?" Y/N stayed silent, not sure she could trust herself enough not to say "terrified to be in the same room with my murderer father."

"Well, I brought you some soup. It's vegetable broth and ground meat." Y/N had the briefest thought slip through her mind that her father might be trying to serve her the man that she'd seen on the ground earlier and felt sick again.

"Daddy, I'm gonna be sick," she managed to rush out. Alastor quickly grabbed the pail by her bedside and held it up for her. She threw up into the bin and teared up a bit as her father soothed her. He was so good to her, how could he be such a terrible monster? How could her father be a killer?

"I don't think you're quite ready for my soup, dear. Maybe it's time for some medicine."

Y/N nodded, watching her father leave the room, and realized this might be her one and only chance to escape and tell someone what her father has done. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to sit upright. She wanted to throw up again, but she needed to get out and her father would hear her retching, run in and stop her.

She stumbled down the hall and through the back door. She took off running into the woods that surrounded her home, feeling worse by the minute as her head pounded and her weak lungs took in air. She just needed to make it through the woods and to the morning.

She suddenly heard her father call out to her into the open and air and her blood went cold. She knew he'd follow her. She knew he'd know her plan. She wasn't just running anymore. She was being chased.

Her head was throbbing now, and her feet were cut open by sharp stones that littered the ground in the forest. She could hear twigs snapping behind her and knew that her father was gaining on her. She risked a glance back and saw him less than one hundred feet away.

"Y/N! Dear, you're not well! Please!"

Y/N faced forward and realized too late that she was coming up on a massive upended root. She fell forward, landing on her forearm. She screamed as she felt a bone snapping.

"Y/N!" It was odd, really. Finding out that her father was a murderer had absolutely ruined Y/N, but she didn't expect him to care for her when she was injured while trying to tell the world his crimes.

She hadn't stopped screaming before she felt the snake bite her ankle. Her father finally caught up to her, and she gasped in pain. She could feel her throat closing.

"Da-Daddy. Daddy, help. It h-hurts."

Alastor pulled the young girl into his lap, rocking her as tears filled his eyes.

"Baby girl, why did you run? You know I'd never hurt you."

She clawed at her throat as she could feel it closing. She was running out of time, and Alastor knew it.

"I did it for you, Y/N. All of those people. They were bad. I was making the world better for you. My baby. I love you, so so much. Please don't leave me."

Y/N's vision blurred and darkened, and she tried to croak out an "I love you", but nothing came out. The last thing she heard before her eyes closed for good was the sound of a gun firing from close by.

[pupyuj]

ENA WE NEED GHOSTFACE YUJIN PLEASE

Sadly I have no plot but im sure your genius brain can come up with something crazy 🤭

LOVE YOU

AAAAAA THIS ASKKKK ILY TOO KEER HEHEHEHE 😭💕💕 hopefully i get to do a full fic on ghostface!yujin in the future bcs i am sooo into the idea omgkdhjkhvc

yujinnie definitely the type of ghostface to initially plan on killing you fr but thought you were too pretty so she'd have a bit of fun with you first! it helps that you knew yujin as that unfairly handsome girl who walked aimlessly around the local library (that you just so happened to frequently hang out in) for no reason... bcs when she took off her mask after breaking into your room and scaring the living lights out of you, you found yourself softening up instead of screaming your head off and it only made things easier for yujin! she wouldn't even let you recover from your initial shock and just grab you 😳

definitely makes fun of you while you're desperately sucking her off as if your life depended on it bcs guess what... it did! see, you weren't restrained so you could have easily stolen her stupid knife and finally put an end to the nightmare she has put the entire neighborhood in but god you're such a whore that the sight of yujin throwing her head back and hearing her moan turned your brain into mush... making you only capable of pleasuring her and nothing else 😵‍💫 and her praises only made you want to do her better! "just like that... fuck—" yujinnie would feel so good that she'd fuck your mouth herself!

"y-you... don't feel any shame at all, huh, slut? fuck.. sucking off a murderer like this... if only those goody-two-shoes of a friend group you have could see you now..." yujinnie says while you're crying bcs it just dawned on you how much of an idiot you were being :(( even if you somehow gave yujin the best fuck of her life, she'd still kill you! you were practically spending your last moments sucking her dick which wasn't only embarrassing but also just fucking crazy...

ofc a serial killer as sick as yujin wouldn't care at all when you're bent over and sobbing on your pillow while she pounded you from behind, not letting up even when you've cum so much 😣 she'd be so happy to see you all messed up under her,, "take it, you bitch..." omgomg she would grab your jaw and push your back to her chest so she can hear you clearly, giggling against you shoulder while she simultaneously toyed with your clit and thrusted deeply inside you… as dirty as it was, it was definitely way better than being stabbed to death… and yujin got to know how grateful you were of her for sparing your life for the night when you obediently started riding her, doing anything and everything to get the two of you to cum together… 😵‍💫

yujinnie would leave without another word after all of that, but she definitely comes back for more! after every other kill, she comes to you for relief… or to waste whatever energy she has left! sometimes you never really know if it’s your last night whenever yujin knocks on your window… but the fear in your eyes every time you turn around to look at her was such a turn on that yujin just can’t help but let you live night after night… your life was just a sick game to her and you know what?? as long as you’re still breathing the morning after, you’ll let her play with you for as long as she wants 🤭🤭