#what're you a cop?

[threepandas]

Beautiful Monsters: Yandere AfO

(Absolute GOLD STANDARD AfO art by -> blackberreh-art <- )

He had never stopped to consider his whore of a mother. Not for even an instance. Not to wonder who she had been. Not how she had come to be that way. And CERTAINLY not to wonder if she had, at some point, had siblings of her own. He had fed upon her. Consumed. Then survived where she had not.

Superior.

But now... now he wonders is perhaps he SHOULD have looked into it. Pondered, perhaps, WHERE his Quirk's genetics came from. Maternal or Paternal line? And did they have siblings? Other offspring?

It was certainly possible with the sperm donor. A man of no doubt loose morals, likely to have sired many. Though... how many SURVIVED the coming purges, is another thing entirely. Especially if they were Quirked.

He ponders this? Because he is staring down at his own distorted, yet magnificent, reflection. Through the surveillance screens, a SUPPOSEDLY unassuming public relations manager is shaking the hand of a low ranking hero. It is the seventh hand shake he's observed.

And that's just this sitting.

Just this meeting.

It is... MAGNIFICENT. Underhanded and brilliant. Predicated on the intense social pressures to maintain decorum, he knew if HE greeted in an Western manner, his victims would be forced to play along. What could they do? REFUSE to take his hand? Look RUDE and unreasonable? Even those few who THINK they know his Quirk, can't act.

It would appear bigoted. Quirkist. They have no PROOF.

All For One can only laugh. He is delighted. What a fumbling, audacious, greedy little scheme! How UTTERLY covetous. A "mute and mimic" quirk, was it? The "ability to 'briefly' copy quirks by 'temporarily muting' someone else's Quirk"? Oh, of COURSE! How completely non-threatening! It's TEMPORARY. Not GONE, just MUTED.

No need to VERIFY any of these facts. Why would a child LIE?

To get MORE? To avoid the hostile eyes of the power fearing SHEEP?

And to go into to PUBLIC RELATIONS! The gall! A brazen little monster in the making. He has to wonder... would HE have done the same? Had the world been as settled as it is now, when he was born? Were there no Quirk riots? No wars? Would HE have been content to "play the system"?

It's like looking through time at his younger self. So cocky. Self assured. A pretty, powerful, little thing that thinks it's the biggest fish in the pond. Hair like his brother, smooth to his curls, yet just as bleached bone white. Smug eyes, that dance with the secrets they keep. A vague smile, that gives away nothing.

Promises nothing.

He wants to RUIN him.

Grab him by that pretty little throat and SLAM him to the ground. Crater it. Hard enough to shatter the bones of lesser men. Wants to feel that pretty little thing CHOKE as he looks up at him with such magnificent disdain. As though HE is the insect that does not know it's place. That DARES touch it's better. Oh~

The poor little thing would have NO IDEA.

The sort of MONSTERS that have been lurking in the dark, ready to eat him ALIVE.

He has good taste, for the resources he has on hand. The budget he has to work with. The boy cleans up well, in his pretty little suits and quaint colognes. Decent cuts. Flattering. But All for One could do BETTER.

He keeps his hair long. A vanity and a means to soften their imposing jawline. Kept so neat and tidy. All of him, so very neat. So immaculately dressed. Clean.

He would RUIN IT.

As he holds him down by the throat. Under that furious gaze. He'd make him WATCH as he ruins the appearance he's oh so proud off. Shows him EXACTLY how different they are in strength. No knives, he thinks. Not even Quirks. At least, not directly, no...

Just his HANDS.

Ripping cloth. Shredding it beneath his fingers. Letting him kick and struggle in the DIRT. Insulted and wrathful. As All for One's hands wander. He wonders~ how FAR would the little monster let him get before he snapped?

He's been chained down for so long. So used to HIDING, can he even bring himself to do it? How far would All for One need to PUSH to get him to abandon his little plans, and FIGHT BACK?

Watching him struggle, FIGHT, throw EVERYTHING he has at him. Seeing the realization spark in his eyes that it's not ENOUGH. That it's hopeless. That beautiful despair. That he's pinned down like a butterfly for All for One to devour. A ruined beauty in his trashed remains of a suit.

The little monster would HATE it. Would RAGE. His lovely little mask of civility would come crumbling apart as he WRITHED beneath him. Trying to rip his throat out with his TEETH. Trying to claw out his EYES with that carefully maintained manicure. And All for One would DELIGHT.

Reveal in it.

Drink it all in, like the fine wine it was.

Because, OH~ What a magnificent MONSTER you've held back, little one~ Hateful and ugly. Just like ME~

All for One could out match him. Strength, experience, Quirks. His empire is sprawling while the boy has none. He COULD be a threat, in time. COULD grow to be an equal. But All for One could never allow THAT! The avaricious little thing would kill him!

No.

He's going to eat the boy ALIVE.

And his little monster will HATE it. DISPISE him. Because he his going to love it. And that? That CAN NOT be forgiven. Not by monsters like them. The defeat, the humiliation, the helplessness. It's unforgivable. But the PLEASURE? For THAT All for One will have to BURN. It can end no other way.

Not after he's held him down. Made him WEAK and filthy. Then found every spot that makes him twitch. Dragged open his mouth so he can not escape the NOISES he makes, as AfO swallows him whole. As quirks are combined to squirm, painlessly, easily, at JUST the right angle too...

He'd make him HOWL. Choke on his begging. Thrash and beg and curse.

Like he was DYING. Like he's begging for death.

You can torture a man with more then just pain, after all.

And he'd wants his little his monster OBSESSED. Wants the memory of his cock to HAUNT him. The feeling of being split open. Filled so gloriously, so PERFECTLY. Over and over again. Endlessly. With stamina beyond human limitations. With strength most humans could never dream off.

Combining sensory quirks and attraction quirks, body modification and lust quirks, into something NO ONE else could possibly hope to give him. Everything so sensitive, so pleasurable, it dances the line of pain. He could fry the pleasure center in your brain again and again, then FIX them, little monster. Could make you see GOD.

No one else would ever be able to give him that. The touch of his own hands would forever be ruined for him. Not enough. Never enough. Not after HIM.

And that's why his little monster would have to try and kill him. Would try and hunt him. Obsess. Chase. Rage. But oh, he'd fall in line, in the end. Because he'd LOSE. His cravings crippling him. His NEED to submit.

All for One watchs the security monitors. Lazily palming himself. He wonders... should he keep his little pet by his side? Or tucked away, chained safely to his bed? He supposes it would depend on his mood.

Leaning back, he let's a solid shadow quirk slide over his skin, servicing him. His eyes never stray from the screen. It's twenty-eight handshakes now. Quite the collection he must have. His little monster glances up at the camera and for a moment... it is as though their eyes have met.

Such MAGNIFICENT crimson.

He spills into the greedy, sucking, vice of the shadow he created. Then vanishes the mess. Decadent and relaxed, he orders his spies to gather more information. It's been entirely too long since he's last left the base. Not since killing Shimura. And with her idiot successor off doing... SOMETHING, in America? He has time.

Or at least, time ENOUGH, for a bit of monster hunting~

[bluesgras]

hugs 3

munnin speaks! and draxum, i guess 😒

2 | who is this? |

[commander-chaoss]

Easiest way to combat imposter syndrome is to watch white collar at a developmentally significant age. Yea I'm a fraud, what of it? Take you this long to figure out I don't know what I'm doing? At least I'm doing something. Did you know that when you forge paintings you get good at painting? Did you know this?

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — "Tooojiii~", you chime, skipping up to him before wrapping your arms around one of his massive biceps. The sheer size difference making you look even smaller.

He arches an eyebrow, that smirk you adore so much playing at his lips, "what're you plotting?"

"Nothing at all," you say sweetly, your finger tracing the defined muscles of his arm, "Juuuust taking in the view~."

He snorts, but there's amusement in those sharp Zenin eyes, "The view, huh? Sure it's not just an excuse to cop a feel?"

"M’nope! I was just admiring how the sunrise today makes you look extra dangerous~"

"Dangerous, huh?" The big bad Toji Zenin grins, amused by how you can make even that sound like a compliment, "Most people don't say that while grinning like they've found a puppy."

"Well, I'm not most people," you giggle while pressing your cheek against the warmth of his arm, "And your arms are way better than any puppy. Now up, please ~!" you can’t stop the dumb grin on your face when he flexes his bicep deliberately under your grip.

"Tch. You're worse than a kid." He grumbles as he effortlessly hoists you up with his arm, your feet dangling. Toji huffs, but there's no hiding the flush creeping up his neck, "And flattery will get you nowhere."

Despite his gruff demeanor, you know he secretly loves how you get all stary eyed at his strength.

You grin cheekily, "i dunno, I think it’s gotten me pretty fa-."

"Papa! UP!" A tiny voice suddenly demands. You both look down to see little Megumi- the very proof of how far your flattery has gotten you with Toji Zenin. Your sons arms were stretched high above his head in a perfect mirror of your earlier pose.

Toji's expression softens gradually as he looks at his son. Without putting you down, he easily scoops up Megumi with his free arm, holding both of you aloft like you weigh nothing.

"Great… now I've got two clingy brats," he complains, but his eyes are warm as Megumi squeals in delight, tiny hands patting his father's muscled shoulder.

"Strong papa!" Megumi declares proudly, making Toji's ears turn slightly pink.

You catch this and grin, "That’s right sweetie, daddy’s the strongest," you agree, pressing a kiss to his bicep that makes him roll his eyes.

"And you’re my biggest brat," he mutters, but he doesn't put either of you down, secretly basking in the adoration from his two favorite people.

[dreamysheepy]

Also if you ever see me post my actual face on here again I'm being held at gunpoint

[leafbowl]

You know that thing bikers do when they see a police car? The tap on their helmets? Yeah so Arsenal, Red Hood, Red Robin and Spoiler (who I think are the only ones who ride motorbikes outside of their vigilante personalities) do it whenever they see Nightwing. And you better believe it makes others so fucking confused.

Nightwing: *Drops down into the fight.*

Red Hood: *Stops everything he's doing to tap the top of his helmet.*

Spoiler: *Sees it and then stops to do it too.*

Red Robin: *Gets a giddy little grin and starts tapping the top of his head.*

Thugs: *All collectively very confused.*

Thug #1: Wha... What're they doin'?

Thug #2: Uhh I dunno.

Thug #3: Hey, isn't that what bikers do when they see a cop?

Thug #2: Nah. Nightwing's not a cop, dumbass.

Thug #1: Yeah, he's a vigilante. Wha's he need with bein' a cop?

Thug #3: But he's the type to snitch tho.

Thug #1: Well... I guess. Maybe that's why they do it, cuz he's such a snitch.

Thug #2: *shrugs* Maybe.

Thugs #3: Uh, guys...

Thug #2: What?

Thug #3: Ya 'ere that?

Thug #1: *Pauses but doesn't hear anything.* Uh nah.

Thug #3: Exactly. Where'd the fightin' sounds go?

Thug #2: Shit.

The fighting had stopped because everyone else had been taken care of. The batfam had just been waiting for them to finish their conversation like Alfred taught them to. He would be proud. Probably of the broken and fractured bones that followed. Well, he'd be proud of their technique, they reckoned. (To be honest, Alfred would be proud no matter what.)

Arsenal: So he just... told you all to stop?

Red Hood: *Shrugs.* Pretty much.

Red Robin: I don't get why B wants us to stop using 'dick' as a term of endeerment. It's a compliment! Being like Dick is the highest honour.

Red Hood: And that has nothing to do with the fact the Baby Wonder finds it infuriating?

Red Robin, grinning: Cassie hating it is an upside, I won't lie.

Nightwing: *Drops down next to where they're all gathered on a roof.* Hey guys, sorry I'm late, I-

Red Hood:

Arsenal:

Spoiler:

Red Robin:

Robin:

Orphan:

Nightwing: Uh guys? *Starts sweating because there's something wrong with the way they're all blankly staring at him.* How- how's everyone?

Red Hood: *Starts tapping helmet.*

Nightwing: *So concerned that something's wrong he doesn't clock it right away so he just stares, a crease forming between his eyebrows.*

Red Robin: *Taps against his hair.*

Nightwing: Wait a sceond-

Arsenal, Spoiler: *Taps their heads.*

Robin and Orphan: *Looks at each other. Holds eye contact and then starts tapping their heads to fuck with Nightwing.*

The next day a photo of Nightwing standing with his head bowed in defeat whilst being surrounded by Red Hood, Arsenal, Red Robin, Robin, Spoiler and Orphan who are all patting their heads is trending. People think they're in some kind of cult and that they were either sacraficing Nightwing or they were summoning something. The fact that Nightwing isn't spotted for the next week makes everyone lean towards the sacraficing.

(Jason made him promise he would play into the bit by not going out and letting his friends and/or his siblings patrol his city. Dick has never been good at saying no to his little brother. And, come on, Dick fucking loved the idea of people thinking he was being sacraficed. Also, he doesn't mind the head patting. Batman was the only one who thought it might reveal his identity. Dick was with Stephanie on it all, really. There was no way people would connect him to Nightwing and if they did, it's not like anyone else would believe them.)

It gets to the point that it's not even to fuck with Batman anymore. It becomes a normal greeting, something that bleeds into their civillian lives. People understand it more when it's directed at Dick Grayson but it's very endeering to see it. It all fuels all the Bruceman shippers when Tim Drake-Wayne is caught doing it to Nightwing.

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[chrisbesitos]

younger!reader take care of troublemaker!chris after a fight.

chris' sitting on the kitchen balcony, holding a ice pack against his nose. is almost two in the morning, he was out with some 'friends', the party was doing alright until some stupid assholes appeared and made a mess. chris ended up with a bleeding nose and running away from the police, again. the neighbors called the cops, he got in his motorcycle and drove back home, because he didn't want to spend the night at the jail.

you hear a noise outside of the room, matt's laying sprawled beside you fast asleep. you throw the blanket from your legs, stepping on the cold floor with your barefoot tiptoe. matt didn't notice you get out of the bed, so you walk out of the room, making your way to the living room, noticing the lights on. you rub your tired eyes, the light are hurting them, you find chris on the balcony, his eyes shut closed and his face almost covered by a ice pack.

"hey." you murmur, attracting chris' attention. he opens his eyes, making you notice his darkened blue and red eyes, he rolls them when sees you.

"you're stalking me right now?" chris asks, grumpily. you frow your eyebrows, huffing tired and shaking your head. "then, what're you doing here?"

"we had a movie night and i fell asleep in matt's bed." you say, shyly. chris shakes his shoulders, nonchalant by your explanation. chris' lucky you're not affected by his grumpy way to be. you sit on the balcony beside him and point to his nose. "what happened?"

"it's none of your business." he says, roughly.

you huff, annoyed. you move your hand to his hand, putting down the ice pack and glancing at his bruised nose. purple and green tones, dried blood on his nostrils and you notice a tiny cut on his upper lip. you twist your nose, making a little pouty on your lips, you lift your hand to touch his bruise. chris shakes head, pushing your hand away, he puts the ice pack on his nose again.

"let me help you." you say, chris tries to protest, but realizes you weren't asking. you jump out of the balcony, moving faster towards the bathroom, you return with the first aid kit in your hands and a cloth.

"i don't want your help, i can take care of myself, kid." chris says, trying to stop you, but you're too stubborn and he's hating it.

you leave the kit on the balcony and move to the kitchen sink to wet the cloth, you stop in front of chris, put down his hand and stretch to reach his nose, but chris' way taller than you, even more sitting on the balcony. chris huffs and gets down, he holds you by the waist and lifts your body, putting your on the balcony. you don't move or say anything, just smile gently. chris realizes is way easier accept your help than force you to stop, so he just let you do whatever you want.

you gently clean his skin, removing all the dried blood on his nose carefully. chris closes his eyes, breathing slowly while you move your fingers along his face, he doesn't bother by your touch, but he feels weird inside. you leave the cloth on the balcony, open the kit and look for curatives, you put one on the bridge of his nose, gently pressing your fingertips on his skin. chris opens his eyes, catching you glancing at them with your big eyes, you both stare for a couple seconds without saying anything, until chris feels weird again.

"you always look like that?" chris asks, moving towards the fridge to get a soda. you tilt your head, frowning your eyebrows at him.

"look like what?" you ask, innocently.

"like unicorn shit." he says, nonchalant. "in fact, you look like an autumn mess. wearing all these patterns, colors, buttons and shit."

"well, for a mess, i'm not the one with a bruised nose here." you say, feeling a bit offended, but acting nonchalant just like chris, even though you're good at this as him. "a thank you would be good, you know?"

"i didn't ask for your help." chris says, turning his back to you, moving towards the stairs. you huff, crossing your arms against your chest covered by your pajamas. you listen to chris' sighs, he turns his face to you. "thank you, doll. "

he walks downstairs, leaving you alone at the kitchen balcony. you frow your eyebrows at the name he called you. it's not bad, but weird, because you can't understand chris. downstairs, in his room, chris closes the door behind his back and sits in the corner of the bed, realizing what just happened between him and you. he couldn't remembered the last time someone cared about him, cared about his bruises or cared about taking care of him. it's a weird feeling on his chest, a sensation he's not used to feel.

© chrisbesitos.

[karikarasuno]

part five | part six | part seven

you indeed did not fuck the next time you and law were together. but it does feel like death is sitting patiently and wickedly at your doorstep. the room you wake up in is dark. thank god. because any sliver of light makes your head throb and your stomach churn.

mistakes were made last night, for sure. you blame luffy for the shots. the little shit doesn't even drink, but at some point you were downing tequila in an absurdly foolish attempt to keep up with zoro and sanji. it was dumb. but luffy liked to instigate the two of them and somehow everyone was always roped into the mess. consequences be damned.

you remember inviting law out with you. he had just gotten off from work, but you caught him unlocking his front door as you stepped out to walk chopper. excitement shot through your veins at the sight of him. you could probably overdose on that man if it was possible.

"you work tomorrow?" you call out from your lawn. he looks over at you and smiles. you feel it all the way in your toes.

"no," he says, propping his arm against his now open door.

"on call?" you make sure to ask, remembering vividly the mishap from before.

"nope," he answers, his smile stretching into something devilish and you nearly faint. god, how you want this man.

"good, we're going out tonight," you say, not offering because he would be joining you even if you had to drag him out the house yourself.

"where to? if i may ask."

"drinks with my friends." you keep it vague on purpose because your crew could get a bit rowdy sometimes and you don't want to scare him off.

"seems a bit forward, don't you think?" you know he's joking. poking fun at whatever relationship this is that you two share.

"i almost met your family pants less, i think going out with my friends is okay," you laugh, tugging chopper back to your side when he tries to chase a duck.

"what time should i come over to get you?" it's thoughtful. reminiscent of a date. he would be the type to pick you up. maybe even open the car door for you. and the question while innocent in nature sends a thrill of something arousing down your spine. the bar for men really is in hell if this is what turns you on.

"i'll be ready by 7." he was ringing your doorbell by 6:58pm.

"someone's eager." after that the night shuffles through your head in disorganized memories. like a film reel, but some squares are black and others are just so fucking blurry.

you remember introducing law to your friends. everyone was friendly. nami and sanji grilled him in this weird good cop, bad cop schtick they randomly decided to do. but it was more bad cop, annoying cop if you were being honest.

you remember flirting with him in a booth a couple drinks in. the bar was dark so you two were pretty secluded, thankfully. you don't think you could handle your friends witnessing how willing you were to throw yourself at him.

but after that, there's nothing. you don't remember getting home and when you try hard enough a sharp pain shoots through your temple and you groan miserably into the pillow.

"someone's finally awake," law's voice pierces through the pleasant silence and dread washes over you like a bucket full of ice cold water. what the hell is he doing here? you lift the blanket over your head to hide how horribly you know you look. attempting to save yourself from further embarrassment.

"what're you doing in my room?" your words are jumbled together and you're surprised he even understands you.

"this is my room, silly," he responds with a chuckle you can barely hear over the instant surge of alert mortification that floods your nervous system.

"no it's not," you argue, hoping and praying this is just some prank he's pulling since you were the one who started this whole breaking and entering scheme.

"look around, sweetheart," he says, suddenly much closer than he was before. you peek out over the top of the comforter. four-poster bed, heather gray black out curtains, and law. he's standing above you with a prescription bottle in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. black ribbed tank top hugging his torso and a pair of sweats hanging low on his waist.

you decide that you now hate him. why the fuck does he always look so good? it's just unfair at this point.

"why am i in your room?" your voice is rough from sleep and your throat is sore from how dry it is. even blinking hurts.

"i tried to take you home last night, but you refused to give me your house keys," he explains and you cannot believe you got that drunk. you're never drinking tequila again. "you said it would be more fun if we had a slumber party."

"oh lord," you complain, rubbing your temples with your thumb and pointer finger.

"take this," law says, and you hear the pills in the bottle rattle around as he pours a few in his hand. you hold out your open palm, refusing to look at him out of sheer defiance. really you're trying to save face.

you sit up when he hands you the open water bottle and even that action is a struggle. you're going to kill your friends the next time you see them. not that this is totally their fault. still you needed to spread the blame in the hopes that you can yell at them if law decides he never wants to speak with you again.

you chug down half of the water in a few large gulps. you're so dehydrated it's physically painful. a few drops of water drip onto your shirt and you absentmindedly swipe at them until it hits you that the shirt you have on isn't yours.

"law?" you question, you gaze finally sliding over to him. he hums in acknowledgement. "who's shirt is this?"

"mine," he gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

"why am i wearing it?"

"funny story actually," his smile grows less sympathetic and more... tickled. you hate him. you really really do. "i had to wrestle it onto you when you decided it was a good idea to strip down to your underwear."

"i did not." mortification is an understatement. humiliation is nowhere near severe enough to describe the feeling that's now burning through you.

"mhm, you said sleepovers are more fun naked," he laughs lightly. you're glad someone finds this situation humorous. because you’re about to dig a hole in your backyard and bury yourself in it.

"don't make that face," law pinches your nose between the knuckles of his fore and middle finger. it's annoying how cute he is because your face immediately un-scrunches from the gesture. "i thought it was adorable."

"me in the nicest lingerie i own is adorable to you?" you argue, irritated that you wasted your matching set on a night that law didn't even get to take it off you.

"no, the lingerie was very sexy," he leans in towards you, his thumb pressing into your brow bone to relieve some of the pressure that was there from your raging headache. your stomach flips at his words, even more agitated at how awful you feel when you should be climbing him. "you're just an energetic drunk and its entertaining. you're also really handsy."

you lean into his massaging fingers that are now kneading at your temples. you don't even want to answer him out of pure misery.

"i wish i could remember how handsy i got," you grumble, mopey and disappointed. you hear a light chuckle from him as his fingers travel to the soft spot behind your ears. law's hands are so perfect you're forgetting how bad you feel.

"nothing too scandalous. perfectly pg-13." he starts massaging your neck and a sigh of reprieve falls from your lips. bless him and his long fingers and his strong hands. actually you don't hate him anymore. you hate yourself for ruining the perfect opportunity to roll around for hours in these very sheets with him. fuck it all to hell, starting today you're gonna be sober.

"oh!" you just now remember your dog. on top of being a lousy drunk, you're also a horrible mother. "i gotta walk chopper!"

you wiggle away from his magical fingers reluctantly, yanking the comforter back to jump out of bed. you don't make it far though. law's hand finds you bare thigh to keep you in place.

"he's in the lanai. i got him when i woke up this morning when i realized you weren't waking up any time soon." he covers you back up with the blanket, tucking you in. "i stole your keys from your purse."

"and you fed him?" on top of law being a magician, he's also a saint. you think about proposing then and there.

"and," he pushes you so that you're laying down again, "i fed him."

"i think i'm gonna marry you," you say out loud, and completely on accident. but without his hands on you the headache has returned full force and the pain doesn't give you the time to regret it.

"go back to sleep," he scoffs throwing the blanket over your head. "you'll feel better when you wake up."

****

you wake up who knows how long later to the sound of nami's voice. but that can't be right because you're at law's house. still in his bed. and still in his shirt-- that thought makes you giddy. it is nami, though, you’d recognize her voice anywhere.

“thanks for taking care of her. we definitely over did it last night,” she says, her voice carrying a slight note of apology. which is unlike her.

“it’s really no problem. once she was in bed she knocked out.” you can’t believe nami is even here. your headache is thankfully gone only to be replaced with anxiety in your chest. “and thanks for the dinner. how much was it? i’ve got some cash.”

“no no! you don’t have to do that!” nami declines and you can almost imagine her hands waving in front of her in that way she does when she gets nervous. law really does have that effect. “that’s her favorite hangover food. just the right amount of grease.”

“you’re gonna clog her arteries,” law says and you hear the crinkling of a bag and you assume he’s looking through it. he’s such a dork.

“oh with you around i’d worry less about her arteries and more about-” she catches herself. you’re ready to smack her but she’s right. your arteries are perfectly fine.

law just laughs though. and you feel guilty for eavesdropping when you should announce that you’re awake. but you’re nosy and actually very comfy nestled in all of law’s bedding. so you’re hesitant to get up.

“you know,” nami starts, pausing for a brief moment. “well…”

“what is it?” law asks. you’re nervous. your pulse is picking up the pace and you can feel it thump in your throat.

“she really likes you,” she says quickly. next time you see her you’re definitely going to slap her. not that you hid it very well. but as a best friend there’s certain rules to abide by. telling the man you’re sort of sleeping with that you have feelings for him is definitely breaking one of those rules. “at first i thought it was some rebound after kid and i was rooting for her because you’re tall and successful and hot so of course i approved.”

something’s wrong with her. she must have lost her mind.

“but you should hear the way she talks about you. it’s kinda gross if i’m being honest.”

“i’m not sure how i should take that,” law’s voice is a funky mixture of confusion and amusement.

“i’m just saying if this is some fling to you save her the heartbreak. the break up was hard and seeing her like that made me contemplate murder, but she’s much more forgiving than i am.”

the silence that follows has you clamming up. you’re terrified because you don’t want him to end things. you don’t care about the repercussions. you just love spending time with him. kissing him. teasing him. law just makes it all so easy. and you refuse to give it up.

“that’s not something you have to worry about. as much as i appreciate the threat,” he pauses when nami releases a breathy laugh, “i have no intentions of hurting her. i... really like her too."

your heart soars. it flies right out of your chest. assuming his feelings were reciprocated is one thing. but knowing it-- that's an entirely different sensation. it's tingly, bubbly, fuzzy. you almost kick your feet and squeal.

you have to contain yourself when you hear nami leave the house. you have to contain yourself further when you hear law's steps approach the bedroom. you don't want to give away the fact that you've been awake the last few minutes. and that you overheard a conversation that you probably shouldn't have. you don't regret it though. especially not when law's hand finds your shoulder and gently shakes you.

"hey, you," he whispers, leaning over so that you can feel his breath fan over your cheek. "nami was nice enough to bring over some food for you, so why don't you wake up and eat something?"

you turn around, blearily looking up at him. he's smiling softly above you. his face is relaxed, his eyes are fond. and unfortunately while your heart flies, you feel yourself beginning to fall for him. it's overwhelming.

you reach out to him, your fingers fisting in his tank top and you pull him towards you harshly. he isn't expecting it. so he falls on top of you with an umph of surprise.

"you need to eat," he says as he tries to escape your grip, but it's fruitless. you won't let go. you wrap yourself around him until he lying beside you. and he's laughing at your clinginess. you feel his laugh rumble against your body and you nuzzle your face into his neck. refusing to release him even when he tries to force space between you.

"come on," he urges with a hand on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into your side. "you've been lazying in my bed all day. i'm sure you're hungry."

"just five more minutes," you plead. "stay with me like this for five more minutes, please."

his whole body finally relaxes next to you. both of his arms, strong and thick and secure, cradle you to him. he kisses the top of your head. the world fades into nothingness because in that moment law becomes everything to you.

"ok," he agrees, "but i'm only giving you five."

part eight

[saidinpassing]

pocketful of sunshine, s. reid

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

in which, spencer valiantly defends your honor. as best as he can, at least. it's cute, i promise.

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

trope: whimsy!reader x spencer, coworkers/friends

warnings: no smut, fluff, comfort, honorable mention of spencer's hands, defensive spencer, asshole cop wc: 2.34k

summary: The BAU cases are always dark, but you're like a little pocket of wonder in the chaos — always carrying odd little trinkets for good luck, quoting poetry at random, and doodling stars in the margins of case files. Spencer tries to act unaffected, but he starts picking up the habits too: absentmindedly quoting literature back, carrying a lucky coin you gave him, and smiling when he sees your sketches. Of course, being a glowing pillar of light in most rooms has its downs.

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

You like the concept of tarot cards. It gives you a good sense of control, of stability in a job that tends to try and make things tumble out of their place, a way to have hopes for destiny. If you believe in that sort of sentiment. It stops the books from flying off the shelf. The awakening engine of the jet snaps you out of your thoughts as you raise your attention from the tarot cards sitting untouched in your palm. It's only a bit jarring, as always; planes startle you a bit. Emily sits across from you, book in hand, although you can tell she's not reading it. She's already falling asleep, the absent hum in the background serving as white noise for her napping. You flip through the tarot cards, brow furrowed in concentration as you turn three of the top ones over. The Lovers, the Fool, and The Hermit. The Fool's upside down. Hopefully that's not a bad thing. You slip the cards back into their respective places in the deck and pop up to get a coffee, careful not to bump Emily as you shuffle down the aisle. It's getting humid outside--condensation creeping up on the windows and clinging for dear life--you don't doubt it'll start raining soon.You're just about to pour your steaming hot black coffee when Spencer materializes behind you, and you almost spill all of it on yourself. "Crap! Spencer, what're you doing?"

He smiles apologetically, sheepishly. "Sorry, I--um, I was just wondering if we had any sugar." He holds up his own coffee mug, a black one with a cat on the front.

You sigh, handing him the mini sugar packet. "Don't apologise, some people just tread lightly. Scarily so, apparently." You smile back reassuringly. He nods, not moving away as you stir your coffee. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head. "So..." Oh, no, I've said the dreaded conversation opener. Don't panic, your charm will save you. If I even have any. He watches you intently, taking a sip from his coffee. He looks just about as if he'll hang onto your every word. It's making you nervous, and maybe it's making your face hot too, but you hope the lights are dim enough for it to be unnoticeable.

"What're the details of the case?" You finish up the coffee combo, turning so you're leaned against the back of the wooden counter.

He jumps into action, the awkwardness easing up as he shares details. "Looks like a 30-year old female victim, 27 year old male, about 23 stab wounds to the chest, arms and abdomen."

"Wow. That sounds...angry. Rage induced, I mean." You correct yourself, wincing mentally at the wording. You're smart, really smart, you just tend to forget technological terms in front of him.

"It looks like it." He hums as you both head back to the seats, sinking down across from one another in the leather. "The MO wasn't vehemently consistent, except for one thing." He pauses for dramatic effect. You nod, prompting him to go on as you cup your coffee mug in your hands.

"Crows."

You blink, tilting your head inquisitively. "...crows?" He nods rapidly. "Yeah, crows, carved in by the stabbing. As far as I've deduced, it matches up with an old poem about the meanings of amounts of crows. One for sorrow, one for birth, and so on.""Huh." Shuffling the tarot cards, you cross your legs. "So our unsub's intelligent. Maybe he thinks of himself like a poet?"

Spencer's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "It's too early to tell. It's a message, that's for sure." That sentence catches you a little off guard. Usually Spencer's determined to figure things out, determined to do everything he can to work out a puzzle as baffling as this one. But for some reason, he's quieter. More sullen, in a way.

You're not one for frowning, but one crosses your features anyways. "You okay?" He looks as if he's been caught, raising his brows and making a soft, dismissive noise. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just haven't slept too much."

Of course he'd say that. You're still worried, but nonetheless exhausted from the day. It's always a good idea to catch a nap on the jet.

"You should just sleep through the flight. We both should, catch some Z's."

That wording just about makes you pinch yourself in frustration. You keep saying stupid things around him, and you're still not sure why to this day. All you know is that it annoys you severely. As you both drift off into a half-awake half-asleep state, you're too delirious to note the almost frivolous, unnoticeable detail of Spencer holding your lucky coin between his fingers as you fall asleep.

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴ When the jet hits Georgia, it apparently wants to hit you too. You're woken from the peaceful slumber by the turbulence, disoriented and bleary as you peek out the window. God, it's sunny. Too sunny for sensitive morning eyes. Nonetheless, a sense of your usual hope fills you as you peek out the window, think of a short sacrament to the sun and let her continue her slow burning of the Earth.

Spencer wakes up across from you as well, his expression adorably confused as he blinks. You observe. Wonder how his under eyes always stay the same hue of dark grey, then you go back to pedantically staring out the window. Apparently you two (with the exception of Hotch--does he ever sleep?) are early birds. The team's still dozing. Your eyes wander back over to him eventually, spotting the coin in his hand. "Hey, you kept it." He tucks his hair back behind his ear then smiles, just a little. "Oh. Yeah, I did. I don't usually believe in luck, but it's kept me safe so far." The words make something grossly warm and sticky build up in your chest and you snort, putting on your best 'newsperson' voice. "Rare sighting. A man of science carries a lucky coin." Spencer laughs. God, that's a pleasant sound. It's about just as sweet as he takes his coffee. There's a comfortable silence for a little period of time, just the two of you sitting there. Unsure of what to do or say. As you sit there, you end up watching the movement of his fingers around the coin. Flip. Flip again. You've always been somewhat aware of his dexterity, but just silently watching him now brings heat to your face. Nimble fingers, neat fingernails and ridges between his knuckles that you just want to trace with your own touch. Of course, said silence is eventually broken by Garcia's chirping tone. "Good morning, good morning, my loves, I am souped up on five coffees and feeling amazing." There's a collective groan between JJ and Morgan. Derek rubs his forehead, sitting up from the visually uncomfortable-looking position he'd taken on the couch as they start to land. "Babygirl, there are better ways to wake us up than singing in our ears." "Derek Morgan, if we were alone right now, I can assure you I'd be waking you up differently." Garcia jokes in her usual sultry tone, their casual friendly flirting making both you and Spencer roll your eyes. It's another three minutes before the others come to, and another five before they've drunk enough coffee for them to be able to profile efficiently. The little TV lights up with Garcia's face again, and she smiles. "I return, bearing less of a zapped, coffee-fuelled mind. Let's get into it." After you all go over the details of the case, discussing patterns in the signature and the whole crow thing Spencer mentioned before, you get off the jet with your go-bags. "It's bright." Is the first thing you can muster, cupping your hand above your eyes to avoid the harsh glare of the sun.

"Really bright." Reid adds on, frowns on both your faces. You get a little pouch out of your bag, picking out the gem of the day. Alexandrite. Brings balance, and luck. Also, it's pretty. The greeny-purple hues glimmer a bit in the sunlight as you turn it over.

"Let's get moving." Hotch says firmly, the rest of the team tagging behind albeit in a fatigued manner. It's going to be a long drive. `✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴ The station is quiet, it's the first thing you notice. Except for the papers rustling about, the typing, and scattered talking, it's not as busy as you'd expect it to be in a place that's currently rampant with serial killings. Spencer looks mildly horrified at the state of some of the officer's desks. "Do they not sanitize? There are at least over 10 million bacteria on a standard office desk." "Spence, I don't even think they sanitize their hands." You comment, noting the intern in the corner eating his takeout and typing. The expression on the genius' face after seeing it is comical. You almost want to laugh, but you're reminded it genuinely disturbs him, so you're just left giving him a brief, reassuring shoulder pat.

Ah, yes, the shoulder pat. The one form of human bodily communication cue your hand just itches to choose in pretty much any conversation. It's a problem, frankly. He doesn't seem to mind too much, anyways. Your hand drops from the fabric of his cardigan as you enter the tiny briefing room they have set up. It's a little more accommodating; a nicer table. "Okay, what do we know?" Hotch crosses his arms, letting the team file things away in their heads. You squint and focus on every aspect of the photos propped up on the board, your mind sharpening. Crows. Your thoughts fall down that rabbit-hole again, the interest peaking a bit. On this particular body, there are six. Six for gold. You can't understand the sentiments of the act at the moment, or at least, not the connections that the unsub was thinking of when he carved specifically six. If that was the intention, that is. "The MO isn't consistent with that of an organized killer but he's still careful enough not to leave behind DNA or anything obvious. Just obvious things on the bodies." Spencer pipes up, explaining his crow theory to the group a little excitedly. It's cute to watch from a different perspective.

A burly man--who you assume is the higher-up here--approaches Hotch with a firm handshake and a nod. A very, very quick moment passes between the two. A silent sharing of thoughts, if you will, and you just notice it before it's gone as if it was never there at all. Then introductions, and when Hotchner gets to you, the old man looks a bit...baffled? Maybe the better term is nonplussed. Flummoxed. Either way, he's looking at you like you're a different species. Your way of dressing, the trinkets and odd bits n' bobs pinned to your pants. It's not like you're unused to this sort of reaction. He's just sort of...pushing it. Making a hyperbole out of something that's not even a sentence at all. Then again, he seems like the type of guy to get annoyed with someone for licking an envelope wrong, so you just give him a blank stare back. "You're a bit...unorthodox." The officer raises a brow. You squint, unsure of how to reply. You're usually loquacious, but when it comes to backhanded insults you sort of just...shut up. The team seems stumped as well, but not pleased either way. "She's a valuable asset to the team." Hotch says stoically, tone flat. You just stand there. You're sick of this. Not the comments, but the wasting time. What if someone else is being murdered right now? And this station is what, sitting around eating Thai food and waiting for a saint to show up and fix their problems? It doesn't work like that, not in your head. The officer seems to like talking. "Well, I know, she probably is, but does the FBI really let its agents dress like that?" He makes a gesture to you with his hand. You eventually take a brief look over at Spencer, and it puts you into a state of momentary shock when you see he's bristling, jaw wound tight and frown creasing his brow. "She's good at her job, how she dresses isn't relevant, I think you'll find." The usually socially aversive doctor doesn't hesitate to shut down the chief's observations, brushing past him so he can get to the pin board. "I think we should review the crime scene instead of talking about things that aren't important at all." You raise both eyebrows. Okay, this is weird. Spencer's still going over the board, but it's obvious enough that he's not pleased. His mind is racing about two million miles a second as he tries to take his mind off that idiot who thought it'd be okay to try put you down, even mildly. Eventually when things have calmed down a bit, you sidle up next to him, peeking up at the board and pointing out a few small things. He lets out a huff of air, relaxing a bit at your presence. More pointing, then two or three infodumps later, he turns to you. "Are you alright?" He peers into your eyes with his own brown ones. They're like actual melted chocolate, so inviting and addicting. Like little chestnut pools of dopamine. You snap out of it so you can answer his question. "Oh, right. I'm fine. Little peeved, but fine." His brow furrows further as he observes, analysing your micro-expressions to judge whether you're actually okay or not. "You're sure?" You nod gently, leaning against the round wooden table propped in the middle of the room. "I'm sure, I'm fine." His hand hesitantly, very, very, hesitantly touches yours, another smile on his face, this one more embarrassed and trying to gauge your reaction so he'd doesn't mess up. "I need just one more confirmation to be sure. Think of it like a three-step verification, in a way." You sigh, little, pleasant pins and needles flickering up your arm in the form of goosebumps when he touches you. "I'm fine. There's number three." You take his lucky coin out of his pocket and hold it in front of him, your fingers intertwining with his in your free hand. "And, this can count as a number four." You're not sure what you mean or whether it makes sense, but Spencer can take that up with the universe later. "Sounds good to me." `✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴ a/n: PLEASE DONT HARRASS ME I WROTE THIS AT 1AM ON MY PERIOD WITH NO RELIEF I KNOW IT MIGHT NOT BE GOOD

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

[x-x-nyctophilia-writes-x-x]

During a practice interrogation

Soap: SPILL IT! WHERE'S THE TARGET!

Gaz: You'd better answer him, Y/n! He's a bad man!

Y/n: *snickering*

Gaz: ... What're you laughing about?

Y/n: Gaz, you started off as the "bad cop", but now you're the good one. You and Soap got it mixed up about 10 minutes ago.

Gaz: We did not. Now, WHERE'S THE TARGET! YOU'D BETTER TELL ME!

Soap: Oooh, you'd better tell him, bonnie! I cannae control him when he gets like this!

[peachycocaine]

Sugar coated

Pairings: cuck!lee myungi + thanos x fem!reader

I put the reqs aside for this one im sorryy :< ngl this popped up in my head then i saw a similiar fic so it gave me motivation to write this!! I'll be working on the reqs shortly though so stay tuned :3

Tw: threesome, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, language, nsfw. 18+ mdni (also reader got an abortion in this fic) not proof read don't come for me

You had walked into this hell hole due to some heavy debts you couldn't afford to pay, if your life wasn't shit before it's shit now. It kept getting worse, first you woke up in some fuckass green tracksuit with a number on it, in some random place with hundreds of other people, then you had to play kids games where they actually shot people dead and then, the cherry on top, your ex, the reason you were in here, was here too. He made you buy some shady ass coin, got you pregnant and in debt then left you to fend for yourself. You despised him, he was dead to you. Seeing his face made your blood boil, but at the same time you couldn't help but pray he'd make it out safe after every game. He didn't notice you at first but when he did, he started acting all concerned for you as if he didn't do this to you in the first place. You always gave him the cold shoulder every time he approached you. Things weren't good for him here either, he ran into some of his viewers and they claimed he got them in debt by promoting that coin. Well it was partially their fault too, for being gullible idiots and taking the huge gamble. They'd get into a quarrel every now and then, you'd just watch from a distance. After the game mingle, myung gi approached you saying he wanted to start over once you both got out of this place. At first you thought he'd finally got his shit together and was thinking logically until he brought up some other crypto scam. You should've known he didn't care about you, he only cared for the money. You pushed past him and stomped away and he just followed you, trying to reason with you. To your dismay, some people were observing the two of you closely. The purple haired man had his arm draped around min su's shoulder, blabbering out some bullshit before his lap dog interrupted.

"Dude, check that out." Nam gyu said with a grin on his face. "What're they on about?" Thanos watched closely. "They're definitely a thing, he got time to snag up some gig in this place while we're in debt because of him" nam gyu chuckled while elbowing thanos' shoulder. Thanos watched you walk away from myung gi, a plan brewing in his head. Later that day, when it was meal time, myun gi went to take a leak and thanos followed behind shortly. He walked up to myun gi with his arms crossed and a shit eating grin. "So. A little birdie told me that you copped yourself a bitch in here, a pretty one at that" his grin grew wider. Myung gi's expression faltered for a short second, "i dont know what youre talking about" he avoided his gaze and shoved past him. Thanos didn't let him get off the hook that easily and grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "If she ain't your bitch then you wouldn't mind me making her mine would you?" Myung gi scoffed "leave her out of this, she doesn't have anything to do with this" myung gi responded defensively, narrowing his eyes. Thanos chuckled "nah man, whats yours is mine, especially after that stupid stunt you pulled on me. Until you pay me back my shit, you my slave" he tapped myung gi's head with two of his fingers. Myung gi's jaw tensed "and what the fuck does she have to do with this? Are you implying something?" He said through gritted teeth, thanos pushed his lower lip forward, thinking for a moment. "Maybe i am, how about this. You let me have a round with your girl and i'll leave you alone" a smug smile tugged at his lips. Myung gi clenched his fist and sighed, he was contemplating. After thinking it through he nodded. "We got a deal, come over to my bunk when it's lights out." He mumbled in defeat, thanos smirked "right decision man" he bumped myung gi's arm with his fist playfully before walking away.

You went over to myung gi's bunk after the lights went off, wondering why he had told you to meet him after lights off. You stood beside his bunk, gently tapping his shoulder. He got a bit startled before sitting up to face you. "Oh hey.." he mumbled. You raised your eyebrow at his strange behaviour "what is it? Why'd you call me over?" you were getting suspicious now, he was fiddling with his fingers and avoiding your gaze. He cleared his throat, finally speaking. "So.. i need you to listen to me, i know i should've asked you beforehand but.. i've made a deal with someone that involves you.." his voice trailed off as he pressed his lips together, trying to form his next sentence. "And..?" You looked at him expectantly. "And like, i need you to fuck a guy okay?!" He snapped before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. Your eyes widened, his words hit you in the face like a slap. "What?! Have you gone crazy? Do you think im some object you could sell and fucking buy like those stupid crypto coins?" You said in disbelief. You knew your ex was an asshole but you never expected him to go this far. "Look, please, i need you to do this. Think about me for a moment, he said he'd stop bothering me about the money if i let him have his way with you" myung gi pleaded and you just glared at him. "Well hell, think about yourself! I'm not trading my body for you!" you snapped before turning on your heel to leave, just as you turned around you were met with thanos' chest. You instantly looked up to see thanos grinning at you, the red light making his expression visible. "Woah woah woah senõrita, what's all this fuss about?" He chuckled as he took a step closer to you and you took a step back. "W-who are you..?" Your voice came out timid and small. Myung gi slapped a hand over his forehead "he's the guy i made the deal with." He muttered under his breath. Thanos tilted his head, his cocky grin grew wider. "That's right, so do your best, girl." You looked back at myung gi then him. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't jaw droppingly good looking. You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I don't even know who you are! Why would i sleep with y-" you were cut off as thanos covered your mouth with his hand. "Quiet, slut. Don'tcha see people are sleeping?" His face inched closer to yours. Myung gi watched all this unfold before him, his stomach churned as he watched thanos treat you so poorly. Thanos peeled his hand off your mouth, now muffling your protests with his own mouth. His lips came crashing onto yours, taking you in a deep, rough kiss. You wanted to push him off but something in you made you kiss him back.

Thanos dipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it as his teeth clashed into yours. Myung gi held his head in his hands, looking down at the fabric of his blanket as muffled noises and kissing sounds resonated in his ears. Thanos pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your tongues. You panted and he smirked. "On the bed." He demanded and you did as you were told. You crawled onto myung gi's bed and myung gi instantly looked up at you and thanos. "What the fuck? Don't tell me you're gonna fuck on my bed!" He shot thanos a glare. Thanos simply chuckled "yes we are, and you're going to watch us." He smirked viciously as myung gi's eyes widened. Myung gi was sitting against his pillow and you sat on the other end of the bed, facing him. Thanos sat behind you, his hands exploring your body. You leaned into his touch, pressing your back against his chest as he groped your tits through the fabric of your tracksuit. Your breath became ragged as he gave your breast a particularly harsh squeeze. "How's it feel watching your girl getting felt up by 'nother man huh?" Thanos snickered at the way myung gi stared daggers at him.

Myung gi watched shamefully as thanos continued touching and groping you. The lewd noises and expressions you made had myung gi clenching his jaw, a glint of envy flashing through his eyes. Thanos kept direct eye contact with myung gi as he slipped his hand inside your pants, giving your clit deep strokes. Your body tensed and your back arched, you let out soft moans as thanos rubbed your pussy lazily. "I'm feelin' a bit nice today, how bout we share her, hm?" Thanos said as he slapped your pussy making you yelp. Myung gi muttered something under his breath before grabbing you by the throat and pressing his lips onto yours. Thanos cooed from behind continuing his movements on your clit. If someone beside you were to wake up, they'd see the sinful sight of you sandwiched between two guys. You moaned into myung gi's mouth as thanos fastened his pace on your sensitive bud. You could feel the tent in his pant grinding against your ass. Myung gi sucked on your tongue as he grabbed your hand and guided it towards his bulge. He rubbed his clothed erection against your soft palm as thanos grinded his against your ass. You felt so dirty for getting so fucking wet.

Myung gi pulled away, panting as he eagerly pulled his pants down. Thanos saw this and smirked, removing his hand from your pussy making you whine. Thanos followed after myung gi, pulling down his track pants just enough to let his cock free. "What you waiting for, girl? Strip for us" you obliged, taking off your shirt and pants. Thanos positioned you on all fours, already dragging his heavy head up and down your soaked slit. Myung gi tapped the tip of his cock on your lips, signaling you to open your mouth. You circled his tip with your tongue before licking a stripe through his slit, gaining a groan from him. "Bet her mouth feels good" thanos mumbled as he began pushing in slowly. His fat cock stretched out your walls making your toes curl. Before you could make a noise, myung gi shoved his dick into your mouth, the sudden intrusion making you gag around his cock. Thanos bottomed out in one swift thrust, if myung gi's cock wasn't shoved down your throat right now, you would've been screaming. Thanos didn't bother giving you time to adjust as his hips started moving. He grabbed your plushy hips to hold you in place and started ramming his dick into you without mercy. You choked and moaned around myung gi's cock as he fucked your face. His hands tangled in your hair as he thrusted into your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin. Getting used by two guys like this was something you should've been ashamed of but god did it turn you on. Feeling thanos' tip nudge your cervix repeatedly while your mouth was full of cock was an undeniably good experience. You grabbed myung gi's thighs to keep balance as he kept fucking your mouth. Grunts, groans, moans and squelching noises filled the air, you were concerned that someone would wake up to see you getting used like a cheap whore. "Fuck.. your mouth feels so fucking good, you're being so good for us" thanos groaned behind you as he felt your pussy clench around his cock due to myung gi's words. "You like getting used like a cum sock don't you, slut? You love getting stuffed with 2 cocks, shit, you're such a filthy girl" thanos kept snapping his hips against yours and myung gi kept using your warm mouth. Myung gi's thrusts stuttered as he was nearing his release, after a few sloppy thrusts his hot seed came pouring down your throat. He looked down at you, admiring how pretty you looked with your nose burried in his pubes, teary eyes, drool dripping down your chin and plump lips wrapped around his cock. "Swallow, baby." His expression softened slightly as he pulled out. You swallowed his cum before he swiped his thumb over your lips.

You yelped as thanos pulled you flush against his body by your hair, his pace getting more ruthless. He held up your limp body as he kept rutting into you, watching you whine and moan. "Dude shut her up, she'll wake people up with her dirty moans" he sounded out of breath, he felt just as good as you did. Myung gi kissed you in order to supress your moans, his hand crept up to your boob, squeezing it gently. He pulled away and planted a soft kiss to your forehead. "Keep quiet baby, you don't want people to know you're getting used like this do you?" He smiled at you ever so sweetly when you nodded and tried your best to keep quiet. Thanos' hips suddenly stuttered as he was nearing his release. His breathing got heavier as his thrusts got sloppier. "I'm gonna fill her slutty pussy up with my cum and you're gonna watch me do it, mg coin." Thanos smirked behind you before burying his cock deep inside you and releasing his warm thick seed. Your eyes widened and so did myung gi's, you couldn't afford to get pregnant and go through abortion, again. Thanos let go of you and you fell forward but myungi caught you. "The fuck? Did you just nut in her?" Myung gi scowled. "Yes, yes i did" thanos chuckled as he pulled his pants up. "You had a hefty amount to pay anyway"

[fattummyt]

Logan "Wolverine" Howlett (X-Men)/Plus-Size Female Reader - A Good Kind of Trouble 🌶️

Logan was the winner of my fanfic poll by a landslide so enjoy this oldy but goody smut.

Summary: You reconnect and rekindle an old romance with an old flame.

Tags: sexual tension, flirtation, plus size reader, uniform kink, diners, waitress, cunnilingus, oral, car sex, incomplete fic

Warnings: explicit, fowl language, cigarettes, drinking alcohol, mentions of health, pathologizing food

Author's Notes: Raise your hand if you also grew up watching X-Men and never recovered from Hugh Jackman's Wolverine. 🤚🏾As you can tell by the ending, this is unfinished but I figured I'd post what I have so far and finish it later. Y/N = Your name.

Read the fic on AO3 here!

"The only trouble I get is you." He smirked, pressing a cigarette between his lips. "What kind of trouble is that?"

You squeezed into your diner uniform.

Y'all didn't have the mercy of wearing the black bottoms and mustard yellow polos like some restaurant chains. Instead you wore the button down dress uniform of the last "big" girl who worked there.

It was clear in the fit of the dress that she was a bit shorter than you and smaller in the stomach and the bust, but those kinks would be ironed out once your new uniform arrived, your manager said… one month ago.

The gentle roar of a well burned out engine approached and you watched in quiet judgement as the motorcyclist parked, sloppily taking up two spots before leaning the bike on its kickstand.

The tiny bell dinged at the swing of the door opening.

"Logan!" You gasped, giddy spreading through your belly as you rushed through the swinging paddle door behind the counter, lunging straight into his open armed hug.

"It's been a while." He muttered, arms heavy as he hugged briefly around your shoulders.

"What're you doing here?" You asked.

"What's it look like? I came to eat." He pulled back for a moment, glancing up and down the borderline skimpy uniform dress they had you wearing.

His arched brows and questioning expression said it all.

"It's only part time. Til' I can save up for a place. That's all."

His eyes scanned the diner, no customers unless you count the few gnats that found their way in.

"Men don't give you no trouble here, do they?"

You shook your head, "We got a couple regulars from the butch biker club down the way that treat me real nice. They walk me to my car on the late shifts. And do some bouncing around here, too."

He nodded, convinced.

"Ladies aren't giving you no trouble either, huh?"

"The only trouble I get is you."

He smirked, pressing a cigarette between his lips.

"What kind of trouble is that?"

Your manager stepped from behind the counter, and you bit back your witty response in exchange for a brief smirk.

"Y/N, set the tables for me while I help this man, would ya?"

"Sure thing, Johnny." You squirmed away, Logan's eyes following the hem of your dress as you busied yourself, loading the tables with seasonings and condiments.

Logan turned to face the man, sensing a bit of animosity.

"Y'all serve beer in the AM here?"

Johnny gave the place a once over, whispering. "As long as you're not a cop."

"Gimme whatever pale ale you got."

He nodded, turning through the panel doors into the kitchen. Logan caught your subtle glance across the room, finding himself a seat at the counter.

Your manager returned sliding a sweaty bottle down the counter. "Cheers."

Logan stopped it with his hand, raising his brow as he examined the bottle.

"All we have is stout." Johnny answered.

The two stared each other down briefly before you wedged yourself between, sliding Logan a menu.

"Can I interest you in our special this morning, sir?"

Logan slid the menu back. "Gimme whatever you think's good."

"Well are you allergic to a--." "Y/N." Your manager interrupted, irritation in his voice. "Go get cookin."

You glanced nervously between the two men as you took the menu back, rushing into the kitchen.

"I won't have you bothering my female staff, sir. If you're looking for companionship, I suggest you check out the gentleman's club a couple miles north of here. Seems more your scene."

Logan blinked to the swinging doors, then back to him, a snide look on his face.

"Understand me? Or I'll call the cops and get your clunker out there towed.”

Logan exhaled smoke through his nostrils, holding his grimace until Johnny backed down, leaving and joining you in the back where you were plating a couple pieces of bacon.

"Y/N." Your manager spoke. "You come find me if he starts giving you problems, okay?"

"Don't worry, Johnny. That's just my friend. Logan." You chuckled as you switched spots and he took over manning the stove.

"Your friend makes my ass itch." He called out as you stepped through the door.

Logan, having overhead him, greeted you with a scowl you knew all too well.

"He didn't grill you too hard did he?" You asked.

"Still in one piece ain't he?"

You giggled and slid him a small plate of bacon, drawing him out of his newly soured mood.

"You gonna be here long?"

"No. Just another 15. My coworker had a late shift at the club."

"So no plans, then?"

You leaned over the counter, grabbing a piece of bacon from his plate, your cleavage peeking over the low buttoned collar of your uniform.

"Why? You wanna get me in some more trouble?"

"Only a good kind of trouble."

You smirked as he raised a piece of bacon to his lips before dropping it to the plate.

"Thought you could trick me into eating turkey bacon, huh, missy?"

You sighed, "Logan, you're either drinking and smoking everytime I see you. I just wanted to give you something healthier."

His eyes trickled down to your cleavage then back to your eyes before he reluctantly took a bite, followed by a sip of beer.

"Feeling healthier already." He smirked as you rested your head on your hand, pulling the bottle from his hand in favor of downing the rest of the bottle yourself. Defiantly setting it on the counter.

Were it not for the burp that followed, Logan might've kissed the beer off those lips.

… Let's be real, he'd still kiss you.

"Now you're much healthier."

Now with a some alcohol in your system, you felt no hesitation in uttering your next words.

"Take me for a ride on your bike."

"Hell no." He scoffed, chewing down another piece of bacon. "You hear that thing? Piece of shit barely took me here."

"Not even to take me home?" You asked coyly.

You both sat still for a moment eyeing each other as he mulled over that well dressed invitation in his head, your eyes flickered to his keys again. 

As soon as you slapped your hand over them he grabbed your hand, his grip strong and true.

"Gotta work on your poker face."

His palm was warm as it lingered there a moment, suddenly recoiling as the kitchen doors swung open.

"Order up." Your manager called over, setting a shroom and Swiss cheese omelet to the counter in front of Logan.

He eyed you both snidely before continuing. "Can I get you a refill on your uh, drink?"

"I'd like the food to go, if it ain't too much trouble." Logan reached into his back pocket, pulling out a wad of cash and tossing it on the counter. "The drink too."

Logan glanced over to see your disapproving expression.

Johnny slapped his hands over the large bills, sneaking them into his apron pocket faster than you could grab Logan's keys.

"Not a problem."

You reached into your breast pocket, tossing the unsuspecting Logan a ring of keys-- which he caught effortlessly. As expected.

"It's the silver SUV out front. Leave that fixer-upper here."

He didn't speak, but his eyebrow quirk said it all.

He, admittedly, didn't quite know what to do with the thing you just handed him.

There was no key on the damn thing. It's just buttons. He glanced anxiously to the front where a car behind him pulled up and in walked another woman, your coworker probably.

He eyed the fob and pressed the horn button by mistake, almost sending his breakfast falling to the ground.

You walked outside to see Logan sitting in the passenger side seat of your car.

How respectful of him to not assume he was driving. Somebody's trained him well.

"No radio?" You smiled, plopping into the drivers side seat beside him.

His eyes followed the steadily rising hem of your dress as you shifted in your seat.

"Couldn't figure out the damn thing."

You pressed the ignition button, starting a quiet rumble in the car and he blinked dumbly at you.

"Somebody was hungry." You chuckled, glancing at the empty food containers scattered across your dashboard.

"Had to make room in the back."

You held his gaze for a moment, a knowing smirk rising on your lips.

"Where to?"

Your destination was a small piece of brush and trees that made the perfect spot to tuck your car in the shade.

Once there, he promptly unbuckled his seat belt and tugged off his leather jacket, revealing his sculpted hairy arms and a tattered gray wife beater.

His hand slid beneath your dress, tugging your panties down your legs.

Teal. His new favorite color.

"Can I at least change out of my uniform first?"

"Leave it on."

His fingers brushed over your pussy and he swore he'd never felt anything more pleasant.

Logan wasn't a huge fan of cars. He liked the open air that bikes provided and the sounds of nature behind a booming engine, but your moans had good acoustics in the large car, particularly with the middle row of seats lowered and his face pressed between your thighs.

Your hands clutched lovingly in his hair as his lips on your clit drew unsteady breaths from you.

Strong hands held your legs steady as they trembled with the adrenaline of your upcoming climax.

Read the fic on AO3! | Read more of my fics on Tumblr | Patreon | Website

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Good for nothing- BAU team.

Summary: On a case, you run into a figure from your past that you harbour a lot of anger about. It’s about time you unleash it.

Warnings: Vulgar language, Bad breakup, toxic relationship, cheating (main theme), descriptive language about being caught cheating, manipulation and mentions of controlling, abusive relationship.

Pairing: BAU team x fem!reader (platonic).

Word count: 1,543.

"Y/N?" Ice ran through my veins as the disgustingly familiar voice filled my ears. My fingers hesitated from where I had been rearranging pictures on our board, twitching in annoyance. I could feel the eyes of my team on me as they waited for me to answer the voice.

"Adam," I shot out through gritted teeth. Of course, it was just my luck my ex-fiancé would turn up when we were on a case.

"What're you doing here?" I took a breath, composing my face before turning towards him with a blank stare. Why the fuck did he think I was here? Was there a circus in town? If so god knows he'd fit in seamlessly.

"I'm working," I bit back the urge to add 'obviously' to the end of my statement. "This is my team, my job." He looked slightly lost as his eyes flitted around the room, unsure of the many eyes flickering between us.

"Oh, I see. Well, I guess I'll speak with you later." He attempted a smile but it looked more like a grimace, spinning on his heels and practically running to the exit.

"Like hell, you will," I muttered under my breath, suppressing a shudder of disgust as I watched him scamper away. I switched my attention back to the room, a few looks of amusement being thrown my way.

"So, Adam?" JJ's voice was playful and teasing but I fake gagged, imitating throwing up so she got the gist of my emotion towards the cop. "Oh, no Adam huh?"

"Not unless you want your heart ripped out and stomped in the mud honey, no Adam." I spat, the name feeling dirty in my mouth, before returning to my work.

A couple of days had passed since Adam had made his presence known and we had managed to close the case, catch the unsub and deliver the victims back to their families safely, but I couldn't get rid of the itch of annoyance in the pit of my stomach. Realistically I knew it was because when I broke up with him I had left without a word and never dealt with the shit he'd put me through and now I was presented with the opportunity to blow up and let it out.

We were back in the precinct packing up all of the evidence and case notes before we left, collecting what we needed before the trip back to Quantico when he surfaced again, lingering in the doorway like a bad smell. I finally noticed him when he cleared his throat and shuffled into the room.

"Y/N, are you free for that talk now?" I bit back a grin at his audacity and straightened up from the table, glancing his way momentarily before my eyes met Rossi's who shrugged and helped Hotch with files.

"Nope." I popped the P, smiling at him sweetly.

"This is the least you could do Y/N, seriously." The hair on the back of my neck stood as I clenched my fits, nails digging into my palms. "You're the one that left remember." I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes for a moment as I took in his words. I should've known this was the road he would take. It always was my fault. It didn't matter how big or how small, he never did anything wrong and damaged me enough for me to still hold bad habits from it to this day like apologising for everything and finding fault in every minute of my existence.

"The least I could do?" I seethed, back straightening and eyes staring daggers into him as the tension in the room became suffocating. The air became still as my team stopped in their tracks, wary of how I was reacting. "The least I could do."

"Yeah, that's what I said," his voice shook slightly but he pushed his shoulders back challenging me and staring at me down his nose.

"Of course," I spoke with a sickly sweet voice, "what is it you want to say, Adam?" I smiled at him, coating my anger in sugar as he nodded like he was entitled to this.

"You up and left. The month before our wedding. You broke my heart and I think I deserve an explanation, a reason." He feigned his sadness, eyes sparkling with something twisted as my team stared at me in shock.

"I broke your heart?" I questioned, still sweet enough to cause him some cavities. "Oh, I do apologise. I didn't think it would hurt you that much, you poor thing." The sarcasm practically dripped from my mouth, my eyes portraying fake sympathy as I leant on the edge of the table, close to where Spencer practically gawped at the shit going down. "Tell me Adam, did I break your heart when I cancelled the wedding, or when I took all my stuff whilst you were at work the following day or when I keyed your car. Did that hurt?"

"Yes it hurt, we were supposed to be together forever. You and me against the world and you shrugged it off like I meant nothing." I looked around the room, met with amusement from Derek, shock from JJ, Spencer and Emily and indifference from Aaron and David but I let their emotions spur me on.

"Maybe you could have remembered that when I found you in our home, in our bed, balls deep in some other wining bitch whilst I had just picked out our flowers and cake for our wedding because you said you were working a long shift. Maybe you could have remembered that when I gave you a second chance after the first time I found a girl with your cock buried down her throat on our sofa or maybe that was just me overreacting right. Maybe I should have stayed and lived out a miserable good-for-nothing husband who would rather fuck some random whore that his own wife." My voice had risen in volume as I ranted out angrily, aware of how Derek's amusement had fallen and instead, he had stepped closer to me as if trying to provide comfort and protection. Hyper aware of how tense my team had become as if all wound up to spring into action if I flew at the asshole before me. But the one thing I was most aware of was the way his facade had dripped and instead of the poor little man with the sad story he had become the controlling, self-serving ass I unfortunately knew too well.

"You wouldn't have come home to that if you did your duty as a girlfriend properly, not my fault you never fully satisfied anyone." I held back my flinch as the sting from his word spread through my chest. "I'll bet you don't sleep at night."

"You think you have that big of an impact on my life?" I laughed, packing away long forgotten. "You think I can't function now just because you decided I wasn't enough for you?" My smile was sour and wicked, amusement getting the better of me. "Let me tell you something sweetheart, I couldn't give less of a shit about you anymore if I tried. Yeah, it hurt, fuck me it felt like hell knowing I wasn't enough but then I realised that I had the world at my fingertips and boy did that feel good. I didn't dwell on little old you for long Adam, I went out and made the world my bitch. My only regret is I didn't cut off your dick and feed it to you for being a snivelling, conniving cunt that thinks so lowly of women and poisons any he gets close to. So, was that explanation enough for you?" I asked with a smile, ignoring the way my heart pounded my ribcage and my stomach bubbled.

"Fuck you, you whore." Adam ground out, finally realising he wasn't going to win this competition and I wasn't going to bow to him and cower with fear of disappointing him. With a red face and neck, hands shaking with anger he span around and stormed away.

"You wish!" I yelled after him, a satisfied smile on my face as he slammed the door. Taking a deep shuddering breath, I collected myself, rolling my shoulders and pulling at my shirt sleeves before facing my team with a calm smile.

"That was kinda hot." I burst out in laughter as Emily blurted out, the tension melting away from me. A few laughs made their rounds in the room and I took a seat, knees shaking as the adrenaline faded from my body.

"But seriously, why didn't you say anything? If I'd have known he worked here then I would've found a way for you to work away from him." Hotch questioned, concern in his eyes.

"Honestly, I didn't know, he must've moved towns." I shrugged, "But in fairness, it felt good getting that out of my system. God knows I've waited long enough."

"On a serious note, I think we should let you get pissed off more often." Emily continued with a grin, winking at me suggestively.

"Yeah, I second that." Derek laughed, pulling me into a side hug, his warmth settling my thundering heartbeat.

[maviscat123]

Anatomy II

By: JohnBoy

Someone was pounding on the door...

Big Jim Reese woke up with a snort; he'd been having a late afternoon nap on the cot in his office. His "office" was actually a small trailer, parked amongst some trees near the back of the construction site.

Jim sat up groggily -- he coughed and slowly ran a large, beefy hand over the stubble on his shaved head. The pounding came again, more urgent this time.

"Hey, Mr. Reese! You in there?" It sounded like a young guy.

"Yeah, yeah," he spoke in his deep baritone, "hold on a sec." The huge black man got up and opened the door.

It was Ken, the son of the crane-operator. He was tall and rather well-built, about 20 or so, sandy blond and blue-eyed, and with a tuft of bristly beard on the end of his chin.

Jim had noticed (on the four or five other occasions that he'd met him) that he always acted a bit shy and nervous around him. Probably, he guessed, because he was intimidated by his size: Jim was a half-foot taller than him, and probably out- weighed the kid by at least 130 pounds (a good deal of it was solid muscle, too).

"Hey Kenny, what're you doin' here?"

"Is-- is my Dad here?"

"Nope, he's gone home already." Jim yawned; he thought the young man looked even more nervous than usual. "Uh, everything okay?"

Ken glanced over his shoulder. "The cops are after me, man."

"What?" Jim looked towards the street; he could see a police cruiser pulling up in front of the site. He'd heard that this boy had been in trouble with the law in the past: B&E, some minor theft...

"I need a place to hide. Please, you gotta let me in!"

Jim sighed. He wanted nothing to do with this kid's problems. But an idea was starting to form in his head... and before he even realized it, he said, "Okay, get in." Ken was peeking out through the blinds, watching the cop. Jim had not asked him what kind of trouble he was in this time, and the kid hadn't told him...

"What's he doing?" Jim asked.

"He's just talking to one of the workers. Wait-- shit, the guy's pointing this way!"

Kenny looked around the trailer. "Fuck, if I get caught this time, I'm going to jail for sure. You can't let him find me!"

"If he wants to look in here, I don't think I can really stop him."

"But... there's no place to hide in here! What am I gonna do?"

"Well," he said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, "I got a suggestion."

"What??"

"How much you weigh, Kenny?"

"Wha--? Uh, about 190, I guess. Why?"

Jim tugged thoughtfully at his wiry, dark goatee. This young man was a fair bit bigger than the doctor had been. He wondered, could he do it?

"You can hide... in here." Jim pointed to his stomach.

"Huh?"

"I could swallow you."

Ken just stared at him.

Jim went on, "Just for awhile. I could swallow you whole and hide you inside my belly, just 'til the cop leaves. Don't worry, you'll be safe. If he comes up here lookin' for you, well... there's no way he'd find ya. Then when he's gone, I'll let you out."

Ken continued to stare at him.

"Well? What do you think?"

"Oh come on... this is a joke, right?"

"No, I mean it. I'm serious."

"You're crazy, Mr. Reese. You can't swallow a whole person. It's-- it's frickin' impossible!!"

"Well, yeah, for most people. But I'm different; there's somethin' special about my anatomy that lets me do it. Big mouth, big throat, big stomach... just ask my doctor. Trust me, I can do it." Jim knew this might not be completely true... after all, when he'd done it before (three days earlier), Doctor Moffat had given him some kind of injection as well. Whether he could do it now, without the drug, remained to be seen.

Ken still seemed unconvinced. He looked out the window again, anxiously.

"Well, we're runnin' outta time, son," Jim said, "Do you wanna try it or not?"

"But... you'll let me back out, right?"

"Yeah, sure, of course I will."

The kid shrugged. "What the hell, I guess I got no choice. Okay."

"Damn right!" Jim tried to suppress his excitement. Ever since the doctor's appointment, he'd been thinking of little else but swallowing someone again -- and now he had his chance!! Of course he intended to release the boy afterwards...

but he thought, maybe he could try to keep him inside for awhile? Say, ten minutes or so? Would he survive in there that long??

"Er, what should I do...?"

The big man went to the tiny fridge and pulled out a stick of butter. "Take off all yer clothes and rub this on you."

Ken's face screwed up. "What are you gonna do, fry me up first?"

"It's to make you slide down easy. Come on. And take that earring off, too." Jim looked through the blinds. "You better hurry up, son. I think the cop is comin' this way," he lied.

Kenny started to undress. Jim took off his own shirt, undid the button on his jeans, and unzipped his fly part-way. He saw Ken looking at him as he did this, and said, "Gotta make room for ya." He patted his belly. "You're a big boy."

The young man was completely nude now. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up the stick of butter and began to rub it over his chest. "It's cold!"

"Don't worry, you'll get nice and warmed up once you're inside me." Jim realized that he was starting to salivate. His stomach began to grumble and groan in anticipation, and he wondered if Kenny could hear it...

After the boy had buttered himself up, Jim ordered him to lie down on the cot, on his back. He dropped to his knees heavily at the foot of the cot and grabbed him firmly by the ankles, lifting his feet up. He hoped the hunger in his face wasn't too obvious. Now Jim could see a hint of fear in Ken's expression, and realized he'd have to work fast and get it done with before he changed his mind. (And just in case the policeman came around, too!)

He said in a reassuring tone, "It's okay, kid. I promise it won't hurt a bit. I've done this before." He grinned. Then he crouched down and opened his mouth very, very wide...

"Shit, man," Ken mumbled.

With a grunt, Jim quickly thrust both feet into his mouth and part-way down his throat -- Ken giggled despite his fear, squirming around as if he was being tickled. Jim grasped his legs more tightly and pushed again, taking him in almost to the knees with a thick, slurping sound.

"Holy cow, I can't believe you're doing that!" the boy said in amazement. "Hey, wait, I just thought of something... will I even be able to breathe in there?"

Jim tried to nod (which wasn't easy), and gulped again, taking his legs in even further. He couldn't believe how fantastic this felt... the kid was delicious! He'd be moaning with pleasure if his throat hadn't been so full. He wished he could slow down and enjoy every inch of Kenny's smooth, firm, sweet flesh as it slipped inside him, but there wasn't enough time -- besides, he was too ravenous!

Ken's face turned pale as he watched the huge man's mouth working to take him in, gobbling him up, the lips stretching around his hips and ass now. "Goddamn..." he whispered.

Jim's eyes were starting to roll over white with the effort. He continued to swallow, while at the same time holding Ken by his upper arms and shoving him in. Then he guided his hands into his mouth, gaping even wider to engulf the boy's muscular torso and arms. He could feel his legs starting to fold up inside his belly.

"Uhh, Mr. Reese?"

He ignored him. He couldn't believe the power of his throat muscles; it seemed they were working on auto-pilot, flexing and gulping almost on their own, practically sucking the kid down his gullet... it felt so natural. He realized there was no question now as to whether or not he needed drugs to do this.

But the most difficult part was coming: Kenny's wide shoulders...

Ken seemed to be having a bit of trouble breathing with the pressure on his chest. His eyes were starting to bug out, and there was an incredulous expression on his face; Jim imagined that he must've looked quite bizarre right now, with his mouth stetched out to grotesque proportions.

This was starting to get harder, and the sensation of fullness was unbelievable. Perhaps the boy was too big? Had he bitten off more than he could chew, so to speak?

The young man blurted, "I-- I'm not sure about this anymore. Wait..." He began to struggle feebly, but his arms were pinned to his sides, inside Jim's throat.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the trailer door. A voice called out, "Anyone in there?"

Jim's heart lunged. Shit, it was the cop! He looked Ken in the face, wondering what his reaction would be. Would he scream for help??

A moment of silence passed... then Ken seemed to make his decision: "Uh," he cleared his throat, and tried to talk in a deeper voice, "Yes, officer? I mean, who is it?"

Jim would've smiled if he could. He continued to swallow -- but now it felt like the kid was almost stuck!

"Jim Reese? I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"Uhh... okay, er, gimme a minute," Ken said.

Jim reached out, clamped onto Ken's shoulders and began forcefully shoving him in with all his strength, swallowing hard.

The door handle rattled. "Please open up, it's the police."

"Just-- just let me get some pants on! Oh, Christ..." Kenny gasped.

Now only his head still protruded from the man's mouth. Jim pushed on the crown of his head with both hands, and he continued to slide in... he could feel the kid's little beard scraping against the roof of his mouth.

In a muffled voice, he heard him say, "Jeez, it smells like hamburgers in here..."

And then he closed his mouth completely over him and gulped hugely. He felt the boy going all the way down, filling his gut...

The cop was knocking again, impatiently. "Sir, will you open the door??"

Jim was gasping for air. "Yeah, yeah," he managed to say. He could feel Ken squirming around inside him -- it seemed like he was trying to turn around. He gulped down several large mouthfuls of air so the kid could breathe. Then he got up with a loud grunt, steadying himself against the wall. The weight in his gut was incredible; he was having some difficulty just standing up!

He quickly kicked Ken's clothes and shoes under the cot, then unlocked the door.

The police officer looking up at him was on the short side, but quite burly. He had a thick, brown, brush-like moustache and a buzzcut. He was carrying his cap under one arm.

Almost immediately, his eyes went to Jim's enormous, round globe of a belly, and his jaw dropped slightly. But then he tried to compose himself and looked Jim in the face, saying in a firm voice, "Is there a problem?"

"Uh, no-- sorry I took so long, officer. I was... I had to put some clothes on." Jim tried to laugh.

The cop looked at him suspiciously. "I thought I heard someone else in here."

"Nope, just me. I was having a little snooze."

"Well... I'm Officer Banks. May I come in? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, sure." Jim backed up to allow the guy to enter.

"So you're the foreman on this site, Mr. Reese?" The cop couldn't seem to help himself; he kept glancing down at Jim's gut. Jim was nervous... for some reason, Ken was struggling a bit inside him, and he hoped it wouldn't be visible from the outside. Was the boy uncomfortable?

"Yes."

The policeman looked slowly around the interior of the trailer. He said, "You know a young man named Kenneth Delaney?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's one of the employees' kids."

"Have you seen him today?"

Jim's stomach gurgled audibly. "Ah, no. Haven't seen him."

"You sure? One of your workmen seems to think he came up here. He's in a bit of trouble, I'm afraid."

"Sorry, I was sleeping. I didn't see anyone." From Jim's belly came a small moan; Jim thumped a hand to his gut and uttered a short, loud burp. "Ooof... 'scuse me, officer!"

Banks couldn't seem to contain himself any longer -- chuckling, he poked Jim in the belly and said, "I'm sorry, but... man! That is some huge gut you've got there, buddy." He shook his head. "You got a horse in there, or what?"

"Aw, no, it's just fat. And... I had a big lunch today, too." Jim smiled broadly.

"Never seen anything like that. Damn! Sorry, I hope I haven't embarassed you."

"That's alright, I know I could stand to lose 'bout 200 pounds. So, umm... what's the boy done?"

"I can't really tell you that." The cop took another quick look around the trailer. "Well, you just keep an eye out for him, okay?"

"Okay, sure thing."

"Thanks for your time. You take care, sir." He left.

Jim could feel a massive belch building up, trying to escape. He sat down on the cot with a groan. Ken was wriggling around more now, and he could hear him trying to say something -- obviously, he wanted to be released.

Now that the policeman was gone Jim could relax, and really savour the experience of having a whole, live person inside his stomach. It felt great, even better than with the doctor... he'd never had such an enjoyable and satisfying meal in his life!

And now he was starting to realize something else: he didn't want to let the boy back out after all. He knew he had to; he'd surely suffocate in there before long and besides, he thought he could feel his digestive juices starting to flow. Just awhile longer, he thought...

The kid moaned again from inside his gut. His struggles seemed to be weakening.

Mm-mmm... he'd sure been a tasty morsel. He felt so full... and yet he thought that he could probably take someone even a little bigger than Kenny, next time. Jim rubbed his belly, opened his mouth wide and heaved out a huge, long, thun- derous belch. He was about to gulp down some fresh air for the boy, but then stopped himself.

With a sigh, he stretched out onto his back instead. I guess this was my plan all along, he thought to himself. Wasn't it? He didn't know if he could actually digest such an incredible amount of food...

but he supposed there was only one way to find out.

[strawbewee]

hi this request isn’t for S4 i hope that’s ok!

but takes place in s2 where five strands everyone?

his spouse gets stranded a year and a bit before he gets there

and they made a career for themselves as a singer? maybe they have some sort of siren power or they are just naturally talented !?

but he finds them on a billboard or something that says where they will be performing next and they have a reunion where the reader has a love hate reaction to seeing him?!

sorry if this is a lot!!!

totally okay! i like all the other seasons better than 4 anyway lmao- this is actually an idea i have for my upcoming reboot of a five story i'd written, so i'm excited to sort of test it out! this turned out a bit more fem reader coded, but no she/her pronouns are used last i checked.

also my swiftie is coming out for this story, sorry to all you non-swifties ;-;

divider credited to @cafekitsune (lmk if you'd like me to remove it or anything of the sort!)

warnings: taylor swift (i love her actually but some people don't so)

The last thing you remembered was holding hands tightly with Five, and then he was ripped from your grasp, and you were falling ass first into an alleyway. Where did he go? Where were the others?

"Five..?!" You cried, hurrying out of the alleyway and bumping into somebody, who glared at you and walked off. You looked around and spotted a newspaper box, and you were over there before you could think. Your eyes scanned the paper. Year, year, what year was it?!

1960.

The sixties?! What the fuck?! All you could do was drop the newspaper to the floor, collapsing against the building wall beside you. You were the only one there. Some of your found-family wasn't even here yet, you'd imagine. There had to be some kind of time frame. You felt bad for whoever was put the farthest. Were you put the furthest in the past? What if you were super old by the time you found everyone again?! Well, you are already old, but what if you looked like it?!

All you could do was wait. You knew Five, he'd stop at nothing to save you and his family.

Unfortunately, there wasn't exactly anywhere to go. You looked pretty young and had no identification. You were wearing strange clothes, you didn't fit in. This felt like the apocalypse in a way, loads better obviously, but being alone? The worst feeling.

You had to stealth around, stealing and pilfering where you could. Sitting in alleys in the rain, starving. That was until you were dumpster diving behind some sort of bar. The heavy door creaked open and you froze inside the green box.

"Them damn raccoons again." A heavy southern accent was muffled to you, but you could tell it was a woman. You heard heels clicking on the ground and the dumpster opened and a broom whacked you in the head.

"Ouch!!!"

"Oh my heavens, yer a person!!!" The woman exclaimed, dropping the broom with a clatter. She reached over and helped you out of the trash, her nose crinkling. The woman was wearing a scantily clad flapper dress, a cute headpiece adorning her blonde hair. "What're ya doin' inside the trash, sweetie?" She asked with worry, brushing some garbage off you like it was nothing.

"Uh...I'm so sorry, I can go." You apologized, ready to get out before she called the cops like everyone else.

"Oh no, baby, no. Here, you come in, we'll getcha somethin' to eat." She assured you, ushering you inside. Some other women (and some men) that were dressed similarly didn't seem to mind. "Most of us here, came from poor too, we'll take ya in." She smiled, taking you to the back and providing you with a meal.

"Thank you...." You said, completely shocked at her kindess.

"Oh! Right, my name's Jess, nice to meetcha." She cooed politely, and you gave her your name through bites of food, making her giggle. "Tell me, sweetie, can ya sing? Dance? Anything of the sort?"

You paused. A golden opportunity was just presented to you. 1960. Some of your favorite artists haven't even been born yet. Not to mention your power dealt with your voice, similar to Allison's. You were frequently named The Siren in Umbrella Academy material. And, you didn't have any stigma to using it like Allison did.

"I write songs." You blurted, and a wide smile came across her face.

"Do ya?! Oh, you'll have to show Bruce then. He's the owner of the place." She hummed, and soon you were cleaned up and sitting in a private room on a nice sofa with a guitar in front of a sleazy looking man who looked like he'd run some kind of club with sexy women around to exploit.

"Alright, sweetheart. Show me whatcha got." He said, a fat cigar between his greasy looking fingers.

You took a deep breath. "Um...so...this song is called...." Shit, you had to think. You didn't have much time to come up with the song to sing. You had to pick a song that was popular in the modern era, maybe it would be good here too? But maybe you should stick to country. You were in Dallas, Texas after all. Not to mention you'd need to change some words if needed.

"C'mon, don't have all day." Bruce took a puff of his cigar, blowing the smoke into your face.

"Um. It's called...Mean." You blurted, and began to strum the guitar. Taylor Swift had been a hit as a country singer, this was a good idea in your mind. You were careful to control your power, and also make it believable. A southern accent and changing the word 'football' into 'baseball'.

As you sang, Bruce stopped focusing on his cigar and was completely focused on you and the shitty guitar you managed to make sound so good.

You finished the song and had a job immediately, with a small lie that you were 18. No liquor, but you could have beer! Thus began your career in that small club, becoming friends with the women who worked there. Soon enough you had the money for a small apartment. You despised the creepy looks men at the club gave you. All you could think of to continue was Five. He'd find you, right? Surely!

But after years? It was tiring. Dancing in sexy outfits in front of men with cigars, smoke and alcohol filling the air. The harsh lights on you while you had to make acoustic country covers of Taylor Swift songs. The more sexual songs like 'Dress' and 'Don't Blame Me' were your least favorite. You'd just have to withstand it. For days. And days. And days. And weeks. And years.

Five crashed into Dallas after witnessing the second apocalypse, with his hand empty. He forgot which sibling he'd been holding onto, but he knew he had you in his other hand.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He had hissed to himself, looking around and calling your name desperately. He'd never admit how panicked he currently was, and composed himself immediately upon the meeting of Elliott, some weird nerd.

"Alright, before I do anything." Five walked up to the man, looking up at him with fierceness. "Do you know anything at all about someone by the name of (Y/n) (L/n)." It was more a demand than a question. "If I find out you've been lying, I'll kill you." He threatened.

Elliott cracked immediately, telling Five he'd seen a billboard of that name recently. He didn't listen to music much, but their name was everywhere. Five was instantly gone, and was amazed to see your face on a huge billboard. You? A star? Not that you weren't talented, you absolutely were! You just weren't that kind of person. He asked around and found the club, teleporting in without an issue.

Ordering a drink, he sat as close to the stage as possible. A sleazy man you would absolutely despise walked out with a grin, golden teeth shining under the light as he began to speak. About you. Five clenched the glass of whiskey in his hand. This asshole looked so smug. Like you were his property.

Then you walked out with a shining silver guitar. He felt his breath leave him. "My God..." he hissed under his breath. You were gorgeous. He wasn't a fan of the makeup on your face, red lips and such. But you were glowing, looking so confident in yourself. You started singing 'You Belong With Me' by Taylor Swift, and he understood the situation quick. The folks around were immediately entranced, and it made him sick. You were using your power to reel them in, keep you popular and making money.

Your eyes met his and you faltered for just a moment, but no one else noticed as you kept singing. After the song was over, you gave him a look and walked backstage. Within seconds he was back there, so relieved to finally see you again.

"A singer, huh?" He said with a lopsided smile nobody else in his family got to see. "Not what I expected."

Your face dropped a tad, tears filling your eyes. "That's all you have to say to me?" You asked, and Five panicked. He hurried over and very gently held your face.

"No no, sweetheart, I'm sorry if that came off wrong. I'm so glad to see you." He quickly said, letting you fall into him for an embrace. "How long was I gone for?"

"Three years." You murmured, and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, I'm here now. You looked really good up there." He said softly. He decided to not tell you about the upcoming apocalypse. At least, not yet. When everyone was together.

"Thanks." You said with a weak smile, not at all letting go. Last time you let go, you were without him for 3 years. You didn't ever want to let go again.

fuck im sorry that ending was so rushed, but if it wasn't i wouldn't have had this out