#I still try to figure out Loop's eyelashes

[buttercupshands]

Just a break from drawing something else also figuring out height for Loop that I had in my head while playing

Feat. Paper figures! Those guys are now always here

I also don't have a good place to put their first photo on a tree so here you have it.

They had a tree hangout for a minute or two now because it's dangerous to keep them like that for long

[pearlymel]

·˚ ༘ ·If bad, then why does it feel good?˚. ༉‧₊˚ ft. Sylus.

SUM. You happen to share genuine feelings with the supposedly man you hate.

WC. 2.5k

WARNINGS. not mc fem! reader, fluffy smut MDNI, emotional feelings, unprotected sēx, soft needy sēx, enemies to lovers type shit, not proofread.

NOTES. Just sylus. Nothing more.

It always comes down to this.

The constant hatred for him, you want to literally pierce a bullet to his head. Why does he have to smirk everytime you try to throw curses towards him? Why does he have to press those dangerous lips over yours to shut you up?

Why does it feel so good everytime?

Damn him.

Lately, something—someone has been bothering you. A certain hunter from Linkon city who seems to have earn herself some attention from the leader of Onychinus.

You squint your eyes at the memory of their interaction, it was pathetic. He didn't seem to have any hatred for her whatsoever, he even seemed to help her.

Is he really pretending to be the good guy in front of her? Or was it all a facade?

“you're zoning out,” Sylus drawls lazily while tapping a finger on your cheek to bring back your attention to him.

Right, you were trying to kill him, again.

You still had him down against the seat while you were above him, still careful not to perch yourself on his lap. Your index that brushed too closely to the trigger shook even more when his thumb played dangerously close to the trigger, resting right on top of your index finger, and you feel like the air is being taken away from your lungs.

“It seems like this isn't entertaining you anymore,” you shoot him a stare and he raises an eyebrow, “perhaps… miss hunter is being too soft on you.”

You watch at how his eyebrows raise in amusement, he knew he had the upper hand in this situation, and it was clear to him that you did as well.

He noticed your voice change, and how your fingers still trembled against the gun still pointed at his chest. Even in your feigned bravado, you couldn't mask your unease. Too easy.

"My," Sylus' eyes darkened as he looked up at you with the slightest curl of his lips lifting upwards, "Are you.. jealous?”

This is ridiculous, and you feel offended even. “Why the hell would i be jealous of stray cats?” you argue back, and he seems almost pleased by your answer, “atta girl.”

Not being able to handle him anymore, you make the decision to press on the trigger without thinking, that the loud bangcaused you to gasp in fear as you drop the gun from your hand.

So close.

Sylus remained still for a few moments as he glanced to his side at the bullet hole on the seat beside his head.

“You missed.” He stated, like he was disappointed.

“Did you not want me to miss?!”

He smiles, "And spoil the fun? Never." Clearly he was playing with your feelings at this point.

He brought a hand up, his fingers tangling into the messy strands of your hair, pulling firmly enough to tilt your head to the side. His eyes studied your own, his gaze roaming over every part of your expression, trying to figure out what you would do next.

"You should try again." He said lowly, his voice almost a whisper. "Maybe you'll hit me this time.”

You press your lips into a thin line at the proximity between you, and your hands find his shoulders, “you can't die.. yet.”

"Oh, don't you worry, sweetie. I'm not gonna die so easily." He let out a dry laugh as if it was obvious.

"That is, unless you end up killing me.”

The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, the worry, the concern, the frustration, the anger. It's all so interesting.

His hand left your hair to snake around your waist to finally pull you down on his lap, and that's when he felt your hands come to hold his face so dearly, your eyelashes fluttering between his eyes and lips.

You held him close to you as if he was the only thing that mattered—and he was, really.

You embraced him like you were lovers, like you were holding someone dear in your arms. With your arms looped around his shoulders, to pour all your love into his lips, you always did that whenever you kisses. Always soft, sweet, and slow.

Yet Sylus wanted to return the kiss deeply, his tongue trying to seek yours in a desperate, hungry manner. Like he's never kissed you before.

You part your lips for his tongue to delve further in, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he were trying to memorize the taste, the one he's already used to, but it only seems to be sweeter with each exchanged kiss.

He let out a low moan, feeling completely consumed by you. His hands continued to roam your body, exploring every contour and curve, every dip and valley, as if he was trying to commit you to memory.

You pant softly when his lips leave yours to graze the skin of your jawline and neck, but you tug ay his hair before he could do anything.

“no marks.”

“and why?”

“I can't walk around looking like that—”

Then it hits you, what the hell were you even doing?

You push yourself off him, stumbling slightly back when you stood up abruptly, but you don't reach for the hand that's out for you to balance on.

“This is messed up.” You say your thoughts out loud before you could stop yourself, and your fists clench to your sides.

He leaned forward to follow after you, leaving the warmth of the seat behind him, he then speaks with a tilt of his head, "I'd say what we've been doing is pretty normal for our relationship, wouldn't you?"

You sigh, “normal? What even are we?”

Ah, that question.

"Oh, you know. We’re just enemies with a mutual hatred for each other, who just happen to kiss each other on the regular. Nothing out of the ordinary here, sweetie." His tone dripped with sarcasm, “totally nothing odd here.” you try matching his sarcasm with a glare.

He met your glare with his own gaze, his expression suddenly turning serious.

"Why are you acting like doing this," he gestured between the two of you, "is something completely new? Has it ever occurred to you that doing this may actually feel good?" He paused for a moment, watching your expression twist into confusion, “you say you hate me, but let me ask you this: what do you feel when you're around me? Hate, or something else entirely?”

"I—” you press your lips shut when you realise you don't even know the answer to that. How did he feel about this?

"it feels like a drug yet I can't let go off." You settle with your answer quietly.

He takes a slow step forward, “you make it sound like an addiction, sweetie.”

“it is an addiction.” you confirm bluntly, and his smirk widens further.

“Mm, a drug you can't let go of.”

“A drug i need to let go of.”

He stops at his tracks, "You,” Sylus stares down at you, “think you can just let go of me that easily?" He asked, before moving closer, his body practically looming over yours now, trapping you against the wall. His hand came up to rest on the wall beside your head, his arm caging you in.

You're trapped, with nowhere to go, “i made a mistake, I'll leave—”

“No.” he captured your wrist in a tight grip when you tried making your way out.

Sylus’ grip on your wrist loosened when you winced the first time he grabbed it, his hand shifting down instead to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"You really think I'd just let you walk out that door and never see you again? You must be joking," he scoffs, his tone taking a lower route, and you're surprised.

"You're... you're mine, damnit.”

You blink twice, “since.. when?”

He lets out a sharp exhale, his patience and self-control slowly fading. "Since our first shared kiss," he practically growls out, "you may be a difficult, infuriating, little brat, but goddamnit if you're not mine.”

Sylus can see the range of emotions flickering across your face as you digest his words, those same expressions he always sees, this time, it's all anger and frustration.

"You look like you're about to explode, darling," he says, his voice coming out in a mocking drawl. "Want to shout at me? Let it out. Tell me how much you hate me again, because we both know that's bullshit.”

“it's no—”

“don't even try to lie to me,”

“i hate y—”

“lying, again.”

“Sylus.” You let out sharply, you were getting tired or him cutting you off.

He listens, it doesn't feel too shocking now. You're just.. overwhelmed.

Do you feel like crying? Yes. Do you want to really cry in front of him? No, of course not. But the tears threatening around your eyes is too hard to wipe off now.

And Sylus tenses when he realized the gravity of the situation, he doesn't waste time to lift your chin up. And the sight makes his heart ache abnormally.

“don't,” he whispers softly before taking you in a warm embrace, where your face us pressed against his chest.

You exhale, the hug is genuine, it feels like he's hugging your heart. You wrap you arms back around him, no wonder you always feel your little heart beating around him.

"we're both stubborn, hot-headed, and too proud to back down," He whispers against your hair, “But beloved, i… am sorry if i failed to see your genuine feelings.”

You tighten your arms around him, beloved, you like the sound of that.

You tip your head back up, and you can notice the way his eyes seem to soften… like that one snowy time.

And you lean to peck his lips, it makes him smile before he returns the kiss with a gentle press of his lips onto yours.

…

You mentally agreed with yourself that you would stop at kissing. Only a few kisses here and there… It felt too easy and natural to listen to his whispers

Your eyes rolled back almost every time he nudged against your sweet spot, making your jaw slack, and you don't let go off the hem of his blouse for not even a second with how of a tight hold you had on the fabric.

You would both get like this everytime your emotions were heightened. You crave this, it's a need at this point.

But this time it's different, it doesn't feel like two beasts ravishing eachother, this feels… slow, and romantic.

You both were not even fully undressed.

"Sylus," you whispered breathlessly, followed by a soft whine with how full you felt with the inches buried deep inside you.

spreading your legs even wider, Sylus pushed himself deeper until you took all of him. His hands caressing your trembling thighs, "Feel me, what you do to me." His hips snapped forward in a slow rhythm, grinding against your sensitive clit with each thrust.

Sweat glistened on his skin as he worked you over, oh how tortuous it felt with you clenching around him, your slick walls fluttering and massaging his aching cock. The wet sounds of your skins filled the room, obscene and erotic.

Sylus reveled in it, in the knowledge that he was the one making you break so beautifully.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your desperate moans. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as his hips continued their slow rhythm—threatening to just thrust in fast and hard.

Yet he knew better than to ruin the moment.

Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent. "Do you want to cum?" he murmured huskily, his words vibrating against your skin. "I want to feel you come all over my cock." His fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub but your hand tries to pry his fingers away, you didn't want this to end just yet.

“Please no, i-i want to feel more of you.. harder.” a plea, and he swears you're going to be the death of him.

"Greedy princess, aren't you? Wanting more of me even when you're already stuffed full." He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, grinding his pelvis against yours. You could feel every thick, hard inch of him buried inside you, stretching you deliciously.

His hands now gripped your hips bruisingly tight as he started to move faster, harder. Just like you wanted, he was only following along.

"I'll give you more, sweetie. I'll fuck you so deep, so hard, you'll feel me for days," Sylus promised with a chuckle, and you arch your back while pulling at the fabric of his blouse, "gonna ruin this pussy until it's molded perfectly to my cock."

True to his word, he picked up the pace, pounding into you relentlessly. And you wanted to scream.

“h-hah, right there—” your head rolled back and your lips stayed parted, your eyes half-lidded and you could barely feel your legs.

Sylus could feel his own release fast approaching, his balls drawing up tight, but he gritted his teeth, holding himself back. He wanted to make you come first, wanted to feel your slick walls spasming around him.

"That's it, sweetie" he panted, “Mmh—ah—!” and you cry out when you came, it felt different, you feel wetter than before, you just squirted without even realising from how fucked out your head was.

Sylus groaned as he felt you gushing all over his crotch, your body quivering and quaking in the throes of your intense orgasm. "Fuuuck, that's it my love, let it all out," he rasped, continuing to thrust into your fluttering heat as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

As your climax subsided, leaving you boneless and panting, Sylus slowed his thrusts but didn't stop. He rolled his hips in deep, languid strokes, savoring the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his throbbing length.

Sylus drank in your needy whimpers and moans with messy kisses this time, “I love you," he babbled, and you barely comprehend what he had just said.

And with a final thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside you. He groaned long and low, his hips twitching with each spurt of his release into you.

You both gaze into eachother's eyes after calming down, your eyes trying to search for the love in them.

“what are you starting at?” You mumble first, breaking the silence. He caresses your cheek at first, “etching your face in my head.” His answer was simple, yet it meant too much to you.

“Did you mean it?” You can't help but ask, “when you said you.. love me?”

Sylus’ lips spread before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i love you.” He whispered his declaration of love to you quietly for the second time.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

when in rome

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, female receiving oral, mentions of a blowjob, plane sex, mile high club woohoo!, cheating, not a happy ending!, angst

“hello.” you smile at the handsome man as the flight attendant guides him to his seat, and you’re glad its next to yours.

“hey.” he smiles right back and you swear you fall in love at that moment. “i’m rafe.”

“y/n.” you can feel your face flush, and you pray that its a cute blush rather than a full red face.

“nice to meet you.” he adjusts how he's sitting. you figure that due to his height it must be uncomfortable to fly, even if he is flying business class. “gonna get to know each other real well, huh?”

“yeah, seems like it.” you giggle. you find yourself going from dreading the 8 hour nonstop flight to looking forward to it as you fall into easy conversation with rafe.

“so, what are your plans in italy?” he asks you.

“ah, vacation mostly. i have some distant family i’m going to visit but its really just a fun trip for me. what about yourself?” “business.” rafe sighs. you should have been able to guess by his outfit, everything about him reads business man, even though he’s clearly on the younger side, you guess not much older than yourself.

“you’ll get some time to see a bit of the sights at least, right?” you ask hopefully.

“i will definitely find time if you’re the one showing them to me.” rafe smirks at you, making the flirtation clear, giving you the go ahead to bat your eyelashes right back at him.

--

“this-” you gasp. “this isn’t what i had in mind when you said show you the sights. thought you meant like the trevi fountain or-” your mind is completely blank of other attractions to see in rome, despite that being your whole reason for visiting. you’re far too overwhelmed with rafe between your thighs.

“mmm, this sight is all i wanna see.” he leans forward to press a kiss to your clit before darting his tongue out and flicking over it, movements still teasingly light like they have been for the past ten minutes.

“feels so good.” you moan. even with keeping his movements so gentle, its still evident rafe has a talented mouth.

he finally leans in fully, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucks the sensitive flesh into his mouth. your hands reach for his hair, grabbing onto the dirty blond strands. 

you try to keep your moans quiet as rafe eats you out, you really do, for the sake of the people staying in the hotel rooms next to yours, but you simply can’t help when you moan out, his sucking forcing it out of you.

“can’t wait to get inside this cute little hole.” rafe smirks, tongue moving down to your entrance, finally showing it some appreciation. he laps over your cunt, unashamed to slurp and swallow your juices, shocked how wet you are (although he shouldn’t be after teasing you for so long).

“i can’t wait to feel your dick.” you moan, hands tightening on his hair but rafe doesn’t complain as you push his face forward, finally conceding and sticking his tongue into your entrance, feeling your gummy walls against the muscle as he begins to thrust it in and out.

rafe continues for as long as he possibly can, even grinds into the bed slightly to hold off from how badly he needs to give his dick attention, but he can’t take it anymore.

you are completely naked while rafe is still fully dressed, now kneeling between your legs. he works on the buttons of his shirt first before tossing it away, undoing his belt buckle while keeping his eyes locked with yours until he’s able to slide it out of the loops, also joining his shirt somewhere on the floor.

he’s built for a businessman, muscles gleaming in the low light as he works his pants and underwear off next until his hard cock is revealed, standing upright away from his body with pride.

“wanna suck you.” you begin to sit up, but rafe pushes your waist gently back down against the bed.

“you can suck me off after showing me the trevi fountain tomorrow. need to get inside you.”

“tomorrow?” you smile. you weren’t sure when you called his number after exchanging them on the plane if he would even pick up, let alone find time to come and see you while in rome. “aren’t you busy?” “don’t care what my boss says.” rafe simply shrugs. “not if it means getting more time with you.”

its strangely romantic for someone who is basically a complete stranger to say, but the thought is quickly swept out of your head when rafe drapes himself over your body, his cock rubbing through your slick folds.

“condom.” you suddenly realize, eyes widening.

“shit, i don’t have one.” rafe groans, still rubbing his cock against you. “please, baby.” “i-i guess its fine.” you’re on the pill, but you only met rafe a few days ago, and unprotected sex would be completely out of the question if you weren’t so desperate for him to plunge his dick inside of you.

“thank you, baby.” rafe says, the nickname rolling like butter off his tongue, making your eyes flutter closed.

he reaches down with one hand, lining his cock up with your entrance before sinking in, both voices joining in a chorus as you moan out. 

“fuck, you’re so tight. feels so good.” rafe praises you, his hand reaching to grip your tit in is large hand, encompassing so much of your chest.

“mmm, slow.” you flinch slightly, still adjusting to how big he feels inside of you, stretching at your walls. “slow at first please.”

rafe nods, hips barely moving as he rocks in and out, dropping himself lower to press a kiss to your lips, quickly turning into a makeout session until rafe just can’t keep the slow pace anymore.

“you’re good.” you tell rafe, who has been slowly increasing his tempo since you started kissing.

“thank god.” he moans, hips going from soft swings to instant heavy pounding, thrusting wildly up into you. you let out an involuntary squeal as you reach up above your head, gripping the headboard as rafe repositions himself slightly, now kneeling with your hips held firmly in his big hands, holding you up so he gets the perfect angle to hammer inside of you.

you moan as you feel your high building, never having been able to from just penetration before, but rafe is hitting a spot inside of you that you swear no man has ever touched before, and when you feel him release inside of you, your own orgasm forces itself out too with a scream.

--

“i mean what are the chances we have the same flight back.” you laugh. you’re not sat next to each other like before, but you do plan on asking to move seats so rafe can keep you preoccupied again.

“i know.” he smirks, leaning forward to press a kiss to the edge of your mouth. “can’t wait to fuck you in the bathroom.”

you roll your eyes at him at the moment, but you do let him take you into the bathroom when the lights dim for everyone else to sleep, easily enticed by his blue eyes.

“gotta be quiet for real now baby.” rafe says, having somehow maneuvered both of your clothes off in the small room.

his hips are thrusting up into yours, his palm covering your mouth, seeing by the gloss in your eyes that you’re already too far gone to hold your noises back. thankfully, your hands are still able to grip the edge of the sink to keep yourself steady.

“can’t be like in the hotel room.” he smirks. you eventually got a noise complaint on your fourth night there, but the hotel associate simply asked you to keep it down before retreating, probably intimidated by the fact that rafe still had very little on when answering the door.

“wanna kiss you so bad, gotta promise me you won’t moan the second i take my hand away.” rafe says, looking into your eyes. 

you nod, batting your eyelashes at him in a way that has him instantly conceding, hand dropping away from your mouth, quickly being replaced by his own lips, still not trusting you fully, especially when he uses his newly freed hand to reach between your bodies and rub your clit.

rafe manages to dampen your moans that flow into his mouth as he pumps up faster, still without a condom, having never gotten around to buying them between working and trying to spend every spare moment inside of you, only agreeing to see the sights so your bodies could both recover before fucking again.

“close.” you whimper. rafe smiles, hes learned your body so well in such a short period of time, he was able to tell just from the way your cunt began to pulsate around his cock that your high was almost upon you.

rafe moves faster, the sink squeaking slightly until your body tenses briefly before turning into a tremble, clit pulsing under his finger as rafe lets out a low moan, lodging himself as deep within you as he can before cumming.

you feel blissed out, elated for the rest of the flight, even managing to catch some sleep while leaning against rafes shoulder. you don’t even think about what is going to happen after you land back in america, how you are going somewhere different than where rafe is.

you walk out of the plane right behind him, expecting him to turn and take your hand like he did when walking around rome, or to turn around ask you if you’d like to chat and have some coffee, maybe even kiss you and pull you into a random secluded lounge.

but he does none of those things, simply keeps on walking. you follow him, tears starting to swell in your eyes.

they fall when a girl runs up to him, her long blond waves flowing as she jumps into his arms, pressing a kiss to his lips that rafe instantly accepts like he hasn’t been kissing you for the past week.

“i’ve missed you so much, rafey!” she squeals. you’re not sure if its her words or the high pitch of her voice that causes you to stagger back.

rafe still doesn’t look back as he walks away, doesn’t turn to see you fall to your knees, doesn’t witness the way sobs rack your body.

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[thatgenericwriter]

The Moment Of Heat || Sam Winchester

Paring: Sam Winchester x gn!reader

Summary: dying day after day is going to be the death of you, ironic right?

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.2k

p.s. based on season 3 ep 11 (mystery spot) and part 2 of the Heat of the Moment series

p.s.s. read part one here

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You let the brothers deal with interviewing the people in the Mystery Spot as you were a little preoccupied scanning literally everything that could potentially kill you. A lady accidentally bumped into you and you about pissed your pants.

You shoot nervous and pleading glances at Sam hoping they will finish up soon. Finally, they walk up to you and tell you about their findings, or lack thereof, before you walk outside.

You can tell that Dean is still having a hard time wrapping his head around all of this. "So we die at the same time and then you two wake up and repeat the day again?" You and Sam, who you have now realized is walking very close to you, nod in agreement. You can see that Dean has an idea by the smug look on his face. "Okay! So let's just make sure we don't die. If we make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."

Sam looks at Dean like he has two heads before turning to you. "I think it's worth a shot." You say while shrugging, "I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight."

Dean starts walking backwards with a big smile on his face. "All right, good. Who wants Chinese?" That puts a smile on your face as you skip happily next to Dean, ready to finally get a chance to eat, but you don't even make it three more steps before a big ass table falls from the sky onto both of you.

You wake up again fucking pissed you rush to get ready and meet up with Sam again at the dinner. After telling Dean what happened once again you guys start coming up with theories.

"So, uh ... If you're stuck in "Groundhog Day", why? What's behind it?" Dean asks while you lean your head against Sam, who doesn't say anything but slightly moves so that you can be comfortable, which you appreciate.

"Well, first I thought it was the Mystery Spot. Now I'm not so sure." Sam sighs remembering how you jumped whenever someone looked in your direction. He just wished that they could figure this out soon so you could stop suffering.

Dean looks between the two of you before asking what Sam's plan is. "Well, we keep you guys breathing. Try to make it to tomorrow. I mean, that's the only thing I can think of." Dean looks around smugly, "Shouldn't be too hard."

You let out a big sigh and lean even further into Sam, "Says you. Your memory gets wiped clean. You don't have to wake up every day knowing you're just going to die again."

They both look at you with pity clear on their faces. Sam wraps his arm around you while Dean tries to find a way to cheer you up. "Well, nothing's set in stone. You say I order the same thing every day, right?" You hum in agreement.

"Excuse me!" Dean calls out to Doris batting his eyelashes at her, "Can I get sausage instead of bacon?" Doris yells back agreeing to his request. He turns around to both of you smugly, "See? Different day already. You see if you and I decide that I am not gonna die – I'm not gonna die."

Doris brings over Dean's order, complete with his sausage, which he immediately starts to choke on. Panic crosses your features as a metallic taste starts to form in your mouth. You quickly move away from Sam as blood starts to flood your mouth.

Sam watches you and Dean struggle to breathe feeling helpless as he calls out to you both. He turns your face to look at him, "Meet us at Wartburg Lodge room 27! Okay!?"

You try to give a thumbs up but you are waking up in your bed gasping for air before you even get a chance. Quickly, you get dressed and start making your way to the lodge, but you barely get a few blocks away before you are hit by a bus.

When you wake up again you contemplate even trying to leave your apartment, but then you think about being alone all day and that scares you even more so you start your journey to the lodge once more.

You didn't even make it to the front door of your apartment building before you died.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You wake up and die again. Gas explosion, then a burglary gone wrong. Dead, dead, dead, dead. It didn't matter what you and Sam did, nothing worked. You and Dean died every time. Every. Single. Time.

Sam was your only saving grace at this point. On the days where you guys lasted a little longer than usual were spent with casual chatter between the two of you, which eventually turned into flirting. Now you and Sam are teetering on the edge of a weird never-ending relationship.

Walking into the dinner you slide yourself into the booth with Sam as he casually puts his arm around you and pulls you in closer to his side almost protectively. You lean your head on his shoulder as you listen to him tell Dean for the literal hundredth time about what is happening to you guys.

After the stupid argument they have every day, you guys take your normal walk. Sam intertwines his fingers with yours as you name all of the things that are going to happen. Then something extraordinary happens. Dean breaks the cycle.

He asks the blonde lady about the fliers in her hands.

"A hundred Tuesdays and you never bothered to check what she was holding in her hands?" Sam shrugs as Dean holds up the flyer. It's a missing poster for a guy named Dexter Hasselback. "That's his daughter back there." Sam grabs the flyer and runs after the blonde girl.

You stay back with Dean to try and keep him from doing anything stupid to get you guys killed again, but when you look over at him he's already trying to make friends with the dog tied near you. You try to stop him but it's too late.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You are with Sam in the booth again, but this time he brought his computer with him. You look over his shoulder as he reads the article out loud. "So the police report says Dexter Hasselback is a professor, but that's not all he is. I talked to his daughter. Guy's quite the journalist. Columns in magazines, a blog."

You look up as the man at the counter leaves. 'Does he always do that?' You watch as he walks past the window, no longer interested in the boy's conversation.

You guys stand up from the booth and you look at the now empty spot at the counter noticing something new. You pull on Sam's jacket sleeve and point to the now empty chair. Dean looks between the two of you confused. "What's wrong?"

Sam starts to pull you out of the dinner and after the guy. "This guy has maple syrup for the last hundred Tuesdays, all of a sudden he's having strawberry?"

Dean jogs slightly to catch up with the two of you letting out a sarcastic comment. "It's a free country. Man can't choose his own syrup, huh? What have we become?"

Sam shakes his head aggressively, speeding up even more. "Not in this diner. Not today. Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. Except y/n and I."

Sadly, that would not be the day you catch the man, Dean getting hit by another car sealed your fate, however, you had faith the next day would bring answers.

[transbeamrooikat]

the Charlie and Vaggie designs are finally done :DDD this was originally meant to be posted for lesbian visibility week, sorry im so late lmao

I also made a screenshot redraw :D alt version + original screenshot under the cut :3 (as well as a transcription of the text on the designs, but that's also in the alt :D)

The text around Vaggie reads:

"I feel like her personality is so Charlie-focused (which makes sense for her at this point to be fair) that aside from shifting her fashion to be more bitch it feels hard to figure out what she'd wear outside of Charlie/the hotel, I feel - heaven is the only other large influence on her so I tried to convey that? It's hard to toe the line between too little and too obvious"

"tried to keep her bow-ribbons as being attached to her belt loops, but I feel like a bow in and of itself doesn't match her militarism"

"considering - her having one key to the hotel on her carabiner & Charlie having a matching earing?"

The text around Charlie reads:

"gave her the eyelashes as the heaven-eye vaggie has on her carabiner to tie back to her heritage"

"made her shirt crumpled cause I think it firs her "trying but still ultimately still unexperienced" vibe"

"tried to make her goatness more explicit, particularly cause I feel like it's too stublel in the show, particularity cause I just like drawing goat features :3"

[lavendertales]

dark times || Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: the night you find Joel in a questionable state, to say the least, is the night a confession leaves your lips. A confession that both uplifts and shocks Joel.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: use of alcohol & pills (as depicted in the show); mentions of depression, loss, suicide; established relationship and a lot of fluff for all intents and purposes.

A/N: comments & reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

It’s not unusual for Joel’s house to be this somber: lights almost turned off completely and utter silence. On nights when he’s perkier he might play around with his guitar, but tonight it seems it’s not the case.

You haven’t seen him almost all day.

The fugitive glimpses you’ve caught of him throughout the day have not been enough. Since you haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him, you simply assumed he was having an off day. On those days, you came to understand that, more often than not, he needed space.

But it’s well past midnight and you have an annoying pit in your stomach, an ugly feeling that won’t cease pestering you. It can’t hurt checking up on him, right?

You let yourself into the house, gently closing the door behind you. The wooden floor screeches beneath you ever so slightly, indirectly announcing your presence there.

“Joel?” you say, barely loud enough to be heard. “It’s me, I let myself in. Are you still awake?”

You see the light coming from the bedroom as you reach the end of the stairs, so you figure he’s either sleeping or just wallowing in self-pity. Again, not unusual. You peep through the door, noticing Joel curled up on the bed, still in his day clothes. As you approach, you notice how disheveled he looks in his green flannel and jeans and big, dirty boots.

“Joel, hey,” you say, gently nudging his arm. “It’s me, hi.”

You keep nudging him, but no response from his side. Perhaps he had one too many glasses of whiskey and he’s finally sleeping properly.

“Joel?”

You start to lose some of your patience and nudge him harder, but still no response. You call out his name, a rush of panic spreading throughout your body. Something tells you to check his pulse; he barely has one.

“Joel, come on, don’t do this,” you quip. “Joel, I swear to God—get up. Now.”

Soon, all words flee from your mind and the only one you can say, on a desperate loop as you try to bring some life into the body by shaking it, is Joel.

Joel. The only man you’ve ever loved.

You fail to realize when tears began to stream down your cheeks, hot and filled with an impossible ache, but you couldn’t care less, not now. You cup his face with your palms, examining every freckle, every eyelash, every portion of skin you can register.

“Joel, don’t you fucking dare do this,” you whisper. “Don’t—don’t you fucking do this to us, I swear I’m—Joel!”

Then suddenly, a mumble makes your eyes shoot wide open, staring down at the face beneath. Joel opens his eyes, trying to get a hold of the surroundings. Then he stammers your name, and you sigh in relief.

“I thought—what the hell happened?”

“Uh—“

He’s clearly not fully awake yet, so you finally scan the bedroom and notice the empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand, as well as a small plate. Then it dawns on you.

“What did you take?”

“Some—pills. And whiskey.”

“I gathered as much. I meant, what pills did you take?”

Joel rubs his temples. “Dunno. Didn’t ask.”

That’s when you finally lose whatever shred of patience you had. The anger you feel is searing hot and white, and you are unable to control it, seeing as how you swiftly stand up, eager to get as far away from Joel as possible.

“So what was the plan?” you whisper through gritted teeth. “Mix alcohol and pills and just… never wake up?”

Joel barely blinks, avoiding your eyes, and the answer becomes crystal clear. It awakens a rage inside of you that you weren’t even aware you could feel.

“You know what? Fuck you, Miller. Fuck you and your selfish, self-destructive wishes. I don’t need this.”

Joel calls out your name, coarse and yet soft, but you pay no attention.

“I don’t need to be adding your death to my list of concerns!” you snap. “I really don’t! I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is, and worrying whether you’re still breathing or not is not there, it should not—it shouldn’t be there! So fuck you! Fuck you for making me fall in love with you and then making me worry about you! You and Ellie… how the fuck can you think to do this?!”

“You—you what?”

“How can you think to do such a thing when you’ve got people around you who care about you?! Ellie, Tommy, Maria… me! Fucking—me, loving you day after day, night after night, and never getting easier because—“

Your chest is heaving, filled with heavy breaths. Your eyes are teary and your heart—oh, how it aches at the thought of losing this troubled man. It aches for him, incessantly so, and tonight is nothing if not a testimony to your accidentally spilled feelings.

It is now, in the aftermath of your anger, that you come to acknowledge you haven’t said the L word before, and that this is a huge deal for someone like Joel.

But he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you; you simply stare at each other, hearts breaking and aching for each other simultaneously. You’re the one who decides to break the silence.

“Do what you want, Joel.” There’s defeat in your voice, as well as in your eyes. It breaks Joel too in unexpected ways, but he finds his body too heavy to react properly. He can only look at you regretfully. “I can’t tell you what to do. But I thought…”

You pause simply to catch your breath, only now realizing how hard you’ve been breathing and how much this scenario has been weighing on you.

“I just thought the life we get to start over here in Jackson would provide some sort of comfort,” you finish saying, wiping your cheeks. “I really thought you might be okay, or if you weren’t, that you’d talk to me or Tommy.”

Joel coos your name, struggling to stand from the bed, but you put your hands up in some sort of defense.

“Do what you want, Joel.”

You do feel some form of regret as you exit the house, still crying. Guilt slowly overwhelms you for not asking what was wrong instead of lashing out like that, but the truth of the matter is, you panicked. The thought of losing Joel like that was too much to bear, and seeing him in that awful state, probably drowning in his own thoughts and pain, it was shocking and debilitating.

For both of you, yet in different ways.

You hear your name being called out in the distance, yet you do not turn around. Although you want to see him, to look at him and admire the liveliness in his face, you also don’t want to see the pain residing behind his eyes, the hollowness of them.

“It’s her birthday today.”

You stop, the information sinking in.

“Was,” Joel corrects himself as he approaches you, clearing his throat. “Today was her birthday. Every year, it fucking sucks. I always try to forget, to leave it behind. It never works. I always wake up somehow… and I always remember.”

Your face softens, turning to meet with this face. When you do, you see the devastation smeared all over it, the troubling ache and the desperate need to fix the situation, and you sigh involuntarily. You know Joel used to be a contractor in his former life, and so he’s used to building and fixing with his own hands.

The inability to fix the worst pain of his life must be the most troublesome feeling.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all you can muster. “It must be unbearable.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I just thought I’d… numb myself, and then I’d wake up. Guess I did.”

You fear you sense regret in his voice, but you don’t express your concern. Joel, however, inches even closer and shyly reaches for your hand, lightly stroking the back of your hand.

“I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m ungrateful for the life I have now,” he mumbles apologetically. “You and Tommy and Ellie, and even Maria… you’ve given me a new purpose.”

“I’m sorry I was so harsh. I—I panicked.”

Tears threaten to flood your eyes again and you take a big breath in while Joel holds both your hands now.

“I saw you there unconscious and… I just…”

He pulls you in for a hug, and you finally exhale, buried in his chest.

“I just want you around for as long as possible,” you whisper. “It’s selfish, I know, but—“

“Love is selfish, I guess. That makes me selfish too.”

Eyes widened, you remove yourself from his chest to stare incredulously at him. But Joel’s face no longer seems wrecked—not to that extreme degree, at least. He seems confident in his words, whereas you probably look like you’re doubting everything you’ve ever heard.

“Did you just say—?”

Joel’s lips stretch in the slightest, revealing the beginning of a shy, small smile, and your heart flutters.

“Maybe I should’ve said something sooner,” he coos. “Thought it was obvious.”

You scoff, still unable to believe. “I do,” Joel continues. “I really do. It’s not… easy for me to say, not always. Never thought I’d say the words, ever again, but… here you are.”

“I don’t want you saying anything just because I accidentally said them.”

“Accidentally?”

“Well… I didn’t plan on saying that I love you under these circumstances or that I’d blurt them out like that, but… here you are.”

Joel chuckles, the sound so easygoing and saccharine it weakens your knees.

“That’s okay,” he replies, his mouth curling softly into a smile. “I have a better memory now for this day.”

[lovelaurs]

Please do it I would love to read a fic about freaking Laurence getting his glass prescription or something like that. ( also i head cannon laur has such bad vision and he has to wear grandpa glasses) 

AN EYE FOR DETAIL

featuring : laurance, cadenza, & castor synopsis : cadenza convinces laurance to finally get glasses. but when they arrive for his appointment, something seems a bit off about this optometrist. tags : poor eyesight laurance, eye care, getting glasses, silly shenanigans, traumatized forever word count : 1.3k a/n : as someone who has incredibly bad eyesight and refused to wear my glasses for years, i figured, "hey, why don't i project my issues onto laurance?". well, that's what i did. the man has poor eyesight now. enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“I’m not wearing them, Cadenza!”

Laurance yelled, staring daggers at the pair of glasses within his sister’s hands.

“I mean- just look at it! It’s practically a relic!”

The glasses in question were his Grandfather’s; as they were very ancient looking in appearance. A lot was simply wrong about these spectacles: a slight crack had formed on the left lens, along with the hinges being extremely loose, and not to mention the thing just overall looking like it was from the 1960s.

In short? They sucked.

“Look, Laurance. I wouldn’t have to force you to wear these if you simply just, oh I don’t know, went to the eye doctor?” Cadenza put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrow at the brunette.

Laurance twitched at the thought.

The eye doctor? Like hell he was going to the Optometrist!

Ever since he got pink eye when he was younger after playing with the pigs on his farm, he had always been afraid of the optometrist. 

When he went in initially for a consultation all those years ago; the tools, lenses, and prescriptions freaked him out. Of course, he only needed eyedrops, so he wasn’t in dire need for any specific treatment, but still… The very idea of it horrified the poor man.

His eyes had always been sensitive.

The smallest eyelash, a drop of water, the slightest amount of soap from the shower; any of these things would easily bring the man to his knees in defeat. Hell, even seeing blurry or smudges through glasses would make his eyes water. 

He was pretty vulnerable.

That is why this man downright refused to get his eyes checked.

The concept of looking through a possibly blurry lens just sends chills up his spine. Even though the action was needed to help prescribe the exact lenses he needed to see better, he just couldn’t bear it.

“I just- I can’t go, alright! That place freaks me out!” Laurance crossed his arms, raising his head in defiance.

Cadenza sighed, pulling out her phone. “If you don’t come with me to get glasses… I’ll text our dads to not allow you to babysit Caleb for a month.”

Laurance gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She flipped her phone over to Laurance, showing him the already typed out message she planned to send to Joh and Hayden. “Try me.”

Within the next hour, the two scheduled an appointment.

About a month later, Laurance was nervously pacing on the sidewalk outside a building named “Castor’s Eye Care”.

The brunette began to bite his nails nervously as Cadenza grabbed her purse from the car, rolling her eyes. She closed the car door behind her before walking up to her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Laurance. It’ll be fine.”

“You’ll stay with me the whole time, right?”

At that, Cadenza winced. “Well… um…”

Laurance’s eyes widened before he covered his face with his hands. “Oh Irene, you’re leaving me.”

She released his shoulder, shaking her hands. “No, not at all! I’ll still be in the building with you, but I need to get my own reading glasses repaired.”

She started to walk towards the door, until she turned around to find Laurance standing in the same spot. 

“Clock’s ticking, Laurance. Come on!” She looped her arm through his and dragged him along as he groaned.

As they stepped into the bright building, Laurance was immediately overwhelmed by just how many pairs of glasses there were across the walls.

Laurance looked around, his nerves starting to get to him, while Cadenza approached the desk to check them in. The generic pop music playing over the speakers was not helping in the slightest

After making sure they were ready for their appointments, Cadenza sat down on the bench by the window and patted the other side, silently asking Laurance to join her.

He sat down beside her, his leg shaking up and down as he kept his eyes focused on the door. Something in the back of his mind wished that the hinges would break, causing it to shut tight forever.

He never wanted to see beyond that very door.

Unfortunately, life seemed to always go against the poor brunette, as the door swiftly opened to reveal an older man with frizzled hair and a bandana. He looked around, almost confused, before his eyes landed on Laurance.

The man pointed at Laurance sternly, then motioned for him to come over.

Laurance nervously looked at Cadenza who nodded and pushed him out of the chair, causing Laurance to stumble forward. She smiled, speaking through her teeth, “Get your ass in there now or so help me, Laurance.”

With that, Laurance quickly made his way over to the curious looking optometrist, following him into the room.

The man motioned for him to sit on the chair, to which Laurance quietly complied; adjusting onto the leather chair with frantic nerves.

What didn’t help his anxiety were the countless pictures of chickens across the room’s walls.

Why were there so many chickens?

As the somewhat odd man began funneling through the cabinets, seeming to be looking for something, Laurance thought it best to break the tension with some small talk.

“So… how long have you been an eye doctor for?” He asked. He winced at the feedback that came from the song Toxic by Britney Spears playing obnoxiously through the telecom above. 

“Ah, well, only a few weeks! Can you believe how easy it is to get a license in this sort of thing- aha found it!”

What.

As it seemed the man found the tool he was looking for, he whipped around to face Laurance with it in hand.

He was going to die here, wasn’t he?

Laurance tugged at his collar nervously, his leg continuing to bounce. “Wow that’s uh… certainly fast, Mr…?”

“Mr. Castor!”

Oh gods.

The building was named Castor’s Eye Care… this newly graduated doctor had finished his lessons and rented out a building all within the same month.

Laurance silently repeated prayers to Irene in his head as Castor approached, mysterious tool in hand. His eyes seemed to focus too bluntly on the object as Castor followed his line of sight to it. He quickly averted his eyes to one of the many pictures of chickens hanging about.

“Ah, this old thing?” He motioned at the tool. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to fear! I’ve only been officially certified for a few weeks, but I’ve been doing this sort of thing in the Black Market for years!”

Black Market?! Who the hell allowed this guy to start a business?!

“Now, let’s take a look at those pretty green eyes of yours, shall we?”

His eyes were blue. He couldn’t even tell the color of his eyes– oh my Irene he was done for.

About an hour later, an absolutely horrified Laurance walked out of the room, his eyes blown wide in horror, red veins visible as Dr. Castor gave him a pat on the back.

“You did very well, Laurance! I can’t wait to see you back here to pick up your glasses in a few weeks!”

He has to come back?!

Laurance awkwardly laughed loudly, backing away while giving finger guns to the man. “G-Great! Can’t wait!”

The brunette quickly turned around, his eyes landing on Cadenza who was waiting by the bench, waving. She stood up and put her new glasses case in her purse before approaching Laurance.

“Ah, Laurance! You’re finally done! How was it-”

Without a second thought, Laurance pulled her by the arm and quickly raced out the store. 

When the two made it to their car, Laurance had his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

“Laurance? What’s wrong?”

“Britney Spears. Chickens. Black Market. Crazy.” He panted out the words, taking long pauses between each one. He quickly raised his head, looking Cadenza dead in the eyes.

“I’m never going back there again.”

@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

WIP Wednesday

So, same fic as before. Here's something I'm very new to writing: smut! Quick info on the situation: Obikin, soul bond (through accidental alien marriage), they're both projecting thoughts without realizing who's thinking what, it gets spicy. Feelings are mutual, they just haven't quite figured it out. Feedback greatly appreciated!

Space breathed softly and the few other people on the ship were murmurs in the Force against the background hum of the universe.

Obi-Wan managed to reach an equilibrium, let those sounds vibrate through and past him like ripples from raindrops on the surface of a lake.

He felt it all in turn - the clones buzzing with not-yet-dissipated post-mission adrenaline; Ahsoka deep in thought, probably tinkering with her lightsaber. Her frustration was a blip in the force soon replaced with a delight at having invented a way forward. Next door, Anakin radiated restlessness again. Obi-Wan could imagine him, sitting on his cot and fiddling with a screwdriver mid prosthetic arm maintenance. Or maybe taking off his tabards and changing into something comfortable to try and meditate.

A thought rose in him, unbidden. A flash of heat, a vision bloomed behind his eyelids - Anakin. Anakin, eyes bright, chest exposed, robes slipping off his shoulder, a blush creeping up his neck. A breathless exhale - "Master."

An undignified sound escaped the Jedi's throat. His eyes flew open.

It wasn't the first time since his ex-Padawan's Knighting that such a thought found its way to him. It was a thousand little things he'd started noticing after Anakin's braid was cut - the broad sway of his shoulders, the gentle curls growing out around the base of his skull, his unfairly dramatic eyelashes. The swell of his lips. The power in him, the solid presence, the burning soul that ignited something long-dormant in Obi-Wan. It was as if a spark struck the kindling of his heart. Not since his mission on Mandalore had he felt this intense longing to reach for another, to let himself go up in flames. Still, it used to be easier to shut the stubborn feeling out and let it go into the Force.

This time, it was more. More insistent and consuming and treacherous as a whirlpool.

He imagined, for a second, what it would feel like to succumb to it, to let himself want. What it would be like to indulge the fantasy. He'd slide his hands down the firmness of Anakin's shoulders, watch the tide of fabric recede and expose the expanse of chest he'd been dying to touch - warmth to warmth, skin to skin. He'd press his fingers over Anakin's heartbeat and chase the feeling with his lips. He'd-

Obi-Wan inhaled slowly and blew out an exasperated breath. "You are above it," he told himself. "You are not lusting after your apprentice, have some force-forsaken self-respect."

Except maybe the universe disagreed. Another image bloomed in his head, this time certainly not of his own mind. Anakin on his knees, robes in a heap around him, a hand in his hair - Obi-Wan's hand. The dusting of ginger hair on his knuckles was unmistakable. Curls wound around his fingers, tugging. For a moment, he felt the same sympathetic pull against his own scalp. "Please," the other man's voice spilled in his mind, "I want to. Let me take you in my mouth." The rasp of Anakin's voice sent a shiver down his neck.

Obi-Wan felt both chilled and over warm. He was already half-hard. There was a phantom of feeling, ghost-like slide of fingertips against his inner thigh. It were Anakin's hands, he realized with a gasp, what he was doing to himself. The lust burning Obi-Wan alive wasn't just his own.

This had to be another feedback loop. Obi-Wan's improper thoughts probably slipped into the bond and ignited Anakin's mind. Obi-Wan knew that the young man would never truly want him, some moments of fantasizing aside. He also knew that he could project a thought, tug on the bond just a little and send Anakin's shields flying up. It would be easy, to be rid of this sweet torture. But Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't lie to himself about that, at least.

The guilt he knew he'd feel was already creeping up on him, like fog settling in his lungs. He felt Anakin's hand go up his (their?) chest in caressing motions, skin tingling, and he told the guilt to shut it. Better to spare at least one of them the shame.

Then - rough grasp of fingers on his cock, mat colliding with his back, the lights dimming in his eyes for a moment from the rush of blood - he was dragged under into the tidal wave.

Obi-Wan watched the scene unfolding before his mind's eye: more than an observer, less than a participant. Anakin slipped his palm up and down in a rhythmic, languid pace. He moaned - in the bond, or outside of it, echoing through the wall. Obi-Wan didn't know. He could only feel that treacherous, slow pleasure spilling across his skin. He felt both their heartbeats speeding up in sync. The mark on his shoulder burned.

"Wish he'd want me", Anakin's voice lilted. Flashes of images flickered in the shared storm of their burning minds. Anakin's eyes looking up, pleading and dark. Moans being pushed out of him. Kiss-swollen lips and a trail of hickeys down his swan's neck. "I'd be so good, so good for him-"

More feeling, more touch: Anakin's hand squeezing and pulling and pushing at the head of his cock in just the right way. Suddenly, there was a rush of air against the campfire of his groin. Then the sting of teeth biting down over his knuckles - and a stifled moan in Anakin's sweet needy voice. He felt the heat of tongue slicking over the bite, and then that same heat, again around his shaft. "Wish he would let me. That thick cock down my throat-"

Obi-Wan surfaced from their bond into the shallows of his own lust. He'd wondered more than once before, how Anakin's full lips would look stretched around his cock. If he'd be confident in swallowing him down or if he'd make up for his inexperience with enthusiasm. How he'd concentrate, brows knitting together, on bringing his master pleasure. How all the sweet sounds of Anakin's own pleasure around the length and girth of Obi-Wan's dick.

Obi-Wan stifled a moan and fell back into the depths of their bound-together minds.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin's breathless voice keened. "Fill me up, let me- I-" The thought cut off with a whimper so desperate that Obi-Wan could almost physically hear it reverberate in the still air. More ghost sensations - a hand gripping his cock, slick fingers clutching at his thighs, the burn of them being held spread open. Anakin's voice in his head, high and wanton and needy - "Yours, Obi-Wan, take me, I'm yours, please-" And then it was all light, a supernova behind his eyelids.

Obi-Wan could hear his own hoarse breathing. Just his own breath, just his own need. He was painfully hard against his thigh. His nails left half-moon impressions in his palms. Dazed, he reached in. Precome slicked the soreness of his hand. Just some movement up the length of his cock - one, two strokes - and he shuddered apart.

After a moment of blessed darkness, the world slowly came back into focus. The mat was cool against Obi-Wan's back. The ceiling above him - dispassionately gray. He felt sweat cooling on his skin, his own heartbeat was thundering in his ears, pulsing at his fingertips as he tried to even his breathing.

"Oh, kark," a thought echoed in his mind, "I should not have done that".

[dangertoozmanykids101]

Brush And Floss To Fight Cavities And Other Villains

I forgot I even wrote this first half of a story - back in January of 2020.

SUMMARY: You'll never believe what happened to poor Tom today. He really got sent through the wringer - quite the rollercoaster of a day. But don't worry, Tom is going to tell you all about it. "It all started with this dream I had...."

But first let me blame @maryxglz for starting my morning off today far too fixated on young Tom and his teeth. Our dearest @maryxglz has been fueling our community with the most beautiful gifs for years. Look at this one! (Link to full post in blue.)

@maryxglz posted the above gif back in Dec 2018 in a perfect set of three all looping with perfect timing to showcase his mouth - those lips, that little tongue that peeks out in another gif, and those gleaming white teeth. And I haven't even mentioned the way those eyelashes brush his skin when they flutter closed like a butterfly sunning itself on my finger.

Only for his eyes to open back up with those pale ocean blue eyes that sparkle with ... GOD they are seductive! @maryxglz you have done it again!! He looks like a little coquette that I want to gobble up piece by piece!

[Clearing my throat, unsuccessfully trying to rid my voice of that hoarse gravely growl that undermines my desperate attempt to appear non-predatory.]

Brush And Floss To Fight Cavities And Other Villains

So after spending half my morning fixated on his teeth in this filthy erotic gif above that @maryxglz made, I remembered a stupid crack fic I started back in Jan 2020 that y'all may or may not get a kick out of. You tell me? It's 2111 words and somewhere I have a second chapter started. On AO3 I tagged it with warnings such as minor violence, dreams vs. reality, nightmares, teeth, tooth fairy, alternate reality, RPF Tom Hiddleston, crack fiction, I must've been on crack to write this. Sorry, no smut. It's not really RPF though - just a guy named Tom who looks exactly like the guy in the above gif by @maryxglz Enjoy.

This is from Tom's POV.

You know what saved me? Pilates. I was able to finally buck my hips hard enough to knock her off balance and free my legs from under me.

So it all started with this dream I had last night. You're going to think I'm crazy, but please hear me out.

In my dream, I woke up lying in bed still dressed, smelling like a saloon, and feeling like I'd been in a bar fight. My tongue was cracked and grooved from dehydration and mouth breathing; it felt like the floor of a desert and probably looked even worse. When I opened my eyes, I saw none other than the tooth fairy hovering above my bed with her face maybe 10 inches from mine. She was intently staring at my mouth until I snapped it shut. I was left with this awkward violated feeling, like she had seen me dancing naked in the kitchen.

"You're awake! Oh wonderful. This will be so much easier now." Her face lit up when she saw my eyes open. Her wings moved so fast that I hadn't noticed them until she did a happy spin with an extra swoop-dee-loop and flutter that scattered gold fairy dust all over me and the bed. Some got into my nose which I accidentally inhaled, sending me into a painful coughing fit. At some point I made the mistake of licking my lips; it tasted disgusting and bitter.

Once my cough settled down, I stared at her in disbelief, trying to figure out what or who she was. I hadn't noticed yet that I was dreaming, a concept still far out of reach, nor was I privy to the fact that she was after my teeth. I just felt groggy, still two sheets to the wind with my head feeling thick and fragile, so my mind wandered trying to remember why I would be hung over and where I had gone that night dressed in a tuxedo. In real life I knew I had stayed home, but my attire and the state of my health told another story.

During my internal debate of truth, facts, and misconceptions, the tooth fairy was flipping through some notebook mumbling to herself. All I could understand were random numbers she rattled off in no obvious sequence before she slammed the book shut.

"Right-ee-o then. You are Thomas William Hiddleston, correct?" She smiled with a very business-like receptionist's smile that was as superficial as her gold leaf lipstick.

"Yes." I had no idea what else to say since she wasn't wrong.

"Good. Now open wide please so I can take inventory."

I hadn't realized how little she was. Her face was so close to mine when she spoke that I could barely focus. Otherwise, she hovered beside the bed, slightly floating up and down and still far enough away to skew with my depth perception. Without my glasses or contacts in she was little more than a white blur that far away, appearing to float like an apparition or some energy being. I thought maybe she was an angel, since she wore white and her skin had a gold shine to it, as though she was her own nightlight.

When her hands grabbed my lips and pulled my mouth open, I was shocked that her hands were no bigger than a raccoon or maybe a tiny monkey. Her face came closer to look directly into my mouth. I just laid there and let her do whatever she wanted. I wasn't scared yet, just super weirded out and hoping the examination would be over soon.

She reached in and moved my tongue from one side to the other as she counted to herself, and mumbled things like:

"Yep."

"I knew it."

"Oh, that's no good."

"Yep. That one too."

"Well, that one can wait."

Leaning back she wrote some more things into her little notebook and shook her head. She scratched her chin furiously before writing more, then shook her head again.

"They are not going to be happy about this," she muttered to herself, but her voice was loud enough for me to hear.

In an attempt to lighten the mood as well as distract myself, I couldn't resist the urge to say anything to fill the silence. It didn't matter what I said, as long as I said something. This was unfortunate since what spilled out of my mouth was moronic.

"Well Doc, am I going to live or not? Just give it to me straight, Doc." I used some weird American accent that I couldn't identify, let alone tell you why I used it. I just felt stupid after I spoke out loud. The only other sound in the room was the low whir of her wings beating as fast as a hummingbird. Besides that, the silence was deafening, an assassin to any performer's ego. She completely ignored me as though I hadn't said a word. I'll admit that this wasn't a shock, since my comedic delivery needed a lot of work.

Without even acknowledging me, she put away her notebook somewhere and took a surgical mask out of her pocket. A little metal arm swung down from atop her head that had a huge magnifying glass attached to the end. The lens covered half of her face and from my view her eye was enlarged just as big as the lens.

"Okey dokey Tommy my dear. There is nothing to be afraid of. This will just take a few minutes and it won't hurt a bit. You'll only feel a tiny little bee sting."

"Bee sting?!" I jumped up and scrambled back across the bed. "WHAT isn't going to hurt? Because a bee sting DOES hurt! How do you know I'm not allergic to bee stings?"

“Tommy boy. Stay still." She advanced on my position until I fell off the bed.

I did a backflip, or more accurately a clumsy back roll and belly flop off the bed landing flat onto my face. Keeping my body low to the ground, I tried to crawl away from the bed toward the door. I didn't want to spook her since she seemed unpredictable.

Her advance was steady until I started to crawl, then she whipped around to block my path to the door and flew at me like a bat out of Hel. Knocking me back, the little demon planted herself on my chest trapping my knees still bent underneath me. This left me in an awkward and uncomfortable position with my arms pinned to my sides under her thighs. She may have been tiny, but no amount of wiggling and pushing would budge her. The laws of physics did not apply to this creature. Though she was tiny, she was fierce and weighed a ton.

The comedy of the scene was surreal; I, a very fit six foot two inch man, just got taken down and completely incapacitated by some little pixie devil the size of a large raccoon with wings.

She studied my eyes; she didn't look into them but AT them, first one and then the other, studying them as though she was reading a story we couldn't see, or listening to music we couldn't hear. I watched her facial expressions intensely, trying to interpret something, anything that she might give away.

"Can you hear me Tommy?"

I nodded. I thought I could hear her. My eyes were as big as saucers, so maybe I just saw her talk while my brain made assumptions about what she said. I rapidly blinked a few times to verify that my eyes were indeed open, but I couldn't figure out how to verify that my ears were turned on.

"OK. Good. I'm going to take three teeth, and then you can go back to sleep."

THREE? .... THREE TEETH!!

I shook my head violently, partially to make sure I was hearing things correctly, partially to rattle some things lose in case I was going crazy, and partially because I was really hoping this was a dream. I continued to shake my head plus as much of my upper body that I could, because there was no way in Hel I would let her near my mouth. I held my lips pursed so tight she would have needed a crowbar to get inside. She tried to grab the sides of my head to steady me, but I just thrashed harder.

"You need to settle down Mr. Hiddleston. Just open your mouth and you'll never even miss them. I promise! But I'm not leaving here tonight without them."

Anger and contempt formed in her eyes. Her hand pulled back and she swung. She slapped me so hard that I heard a bell ring.

In that stunned moment my mouth fell open and those tiny little monkey hands of hers dove into my mouth. She grabbed ahold of one of my molars and started yanking at it. I've never before felt anything so bizarre or disturbing.

If that little angel hadn't fallen from heaven already, she surely would soon. The anger in her eyes glowed like the flames of Hel as she glared at me; she looked scary. Those tiny little hands pushed down on my windpipe at just the right spot. With the creepiest smile flashing large bright white perfectly straight teeth, she watched me struggle and gasp for air. I slammed my knees into her back several times, but she didn't budge.

"Well my dear sweet Tommy-Boy, looks like we'll have to anesthetize you in order to retrieve what we are due. Now just close your eyes. That's it. Go to sleep."

The lack of oxygen to my brain started to take its toll. I stared up and the world slowly was swallowed by a black cloud encircling her so she became this golden flame still visible inside my rapidly diminishing vision; she was the only light within a vast darkness. The irises of her eyes spiraled with green and gold as everything grew darker and darker until all I could see were those eyes and hear her saying "Tommy-Boy" over and over again.

It was terrifying! I thought I was going to die.

With my last ounce of strength before I completely succumbed to an unconscious void, with one last abdominal crunch to literally save my life, my knees hit her back with enough force to push her off me.

I sat up, coughing and drawing as much air into my lungs as I could, but no sooner had I caught my breath that she knocked it right out of me again. I heard this shrill scream behind me seconds before I felt the impact. She flew full throttle into my back and sent me rolling across the floor.

With my adrenaline pumping overtime by this point, I felt like Kong as I stood up and reached for her as she flew around me just outside of my grasp. Swooping in and out, stabbing me repeatedly with something sharp, she hissed in response to my roars.

Then I got her!

My giant gorilla hand wrapped around her ankle and threw her to the ground. Dust plumed up from the carpet like a cloud, leaving a small crater on my bedroom floor.

Finally I had knocked the wind out of her giving me the upper hand for a mere moment, but that was plenty of time. I roared into her face with the fury of a wild animal before grabbing her feet. Lifting her up into the air like a rag doll, I slammed her body back down to the ground again and again and again.

Eventually she just disappeared out of my hands in a sparkling puff of smoke, leaving me standing alone and bewildered. I sat back down on the edge of the bed staring at the state of my room wondering how I would ever explain the damage to the floor, especially considering that every surface of my room was covered with a sparkling gold glitter.

Looking at my hands and legs, I was covered with the same glowing gold dust. I couldn't rub it off no matter how hard I tried. Finally I just gave up and flung myself back onto the bed absolutely exhausted.

'What the fuck just happened to me?` was all I could think as I drifted back to sleep.

"Tom! Tom!"

I felt something kicking at my leg still dangling off the bed, and I heard myself grunting with each kick to the shin. That sensation was real, very real. My shin would surely develop a huge bruise quickly.

"Ouch!" I finally moaned almost intelligibly.

"Thomas William Hiddleston! Wake up you asshole!"

I'm just tagging a handful of people off the top of my head who might have a good laugh or remember the first time I posted this. @nildespirandum @ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @redfoxwritesstuff @myoxisbroken @imanuglywombat @jtargaryen18 @so-easy-to-love-me @acidcasualties @americasass81 @muddyorbs @lokisgoodgirl @frostbitten-written @talklokitome @latent-thoughts @mooncat163 @fictive-sl0th @mastreworld @gigglingtiggerv2 @deceitfuldevout @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @alexakeyloveloki @devikafernando @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[epicsteddieficrecs]

Epic Steddie Fic Rec (February 5th-March 5th 2023)

Damn, has it already been a month? Time flies! I've had a few busy weekends, I've been away from home for a few of them, so that's why the momentary absence. I hope you enjoy this!

I just want to take a moment to mention that I'm selling some "fandom" bookmarks that I've made! If you like the Avengers, Captain Marvel, The Madalorian, Baby Yoda, or Star Wars, I have some fabrics for you! You can find the info here!

Complete

🖤 it's brutal out here by ithinkicouldloveher (Modern AU, Teacher Steve, Soulmates | 16K | Explicit): or, steve harrington hasn’t yet found his soulmate, but between his best girl eleven jane, the whirlwind that is robin buckley, and a wily group of third graders, he’s got plenty enough on his plate. that is, until another single father by the name of eddie munson stumbles into (the wrong) class.

In Cabin D by blueeyesandpie (Post-S4, Trans Male Eddie, Cabin fic | 6K | Explicit): Steve and Eddie take the party camping...and end up with a cabin to themselves. They've been together a while, but this is their first chance to do anything; they take full advantage.

sun down, you’re up by tkhwh (PWP, Trans Male Eddie | 1,6K | Explicit): Eddie wakes up with Steve plastered against his back while he’s still inside of him after a long, long night. Looks like he has a long, long morning ahead of him too.

All Day Event by Lynn1998 (PWP, Trans Male Eddie | 7K | Explicit): Steve and Eddie are meeting up with Robin and Nancy at the fair. It’s impossible for them to go anywhere without putting their hands on each other.

🖤 we can love each other (i've been told it's okay) by deadratz (Post-S4, Friends to Lovers | 15K | Explicit): Eddie has wondered for a while if Steve knows what kind of signals he sends. He’s wondered if Steve realizes what kinds of things he implies while talking about his failed dates. Eddie ignores it because that’s safer than addressing it. Until it’s clear ignoring it isn’t doing anyone any favors. (Alternatively: Is it gay to sit in your boy best friend's lap while you talk about how bored you are with heterosexual sex? Depends on who you ask.)

Reach Out by VenusDoom3 (No Upside Down AU, Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): “I didn’t know how much I’d miss you until you were gone. Right before you left, I kinda… figured some things out about myself, but I didn’t know if you’d… but I missed my chance to find out.” Without knowing he intended to speak, Eddie opened his mouth, vaguely surprised at the dusty rasp of his voice. “You didn’t know if I’d what?” “Y’know.” His face flushing even more deeply red, Steve smiled awkwardly. “Be interested.”

"You ever been in love?" by HairMetal666/ @hairmetal666 (Canon Divergent, Post-S2 | 12K | Teen): It's fall 1984 and Eddie starts passing notes with an anonymous classmate. It changes his life

🖤pulling your strings by Thorinoakentwig/ @thorinoakentwig (Time Loop AU | 14K | Teen): He wakes up to the melody of Kate Bush and the sound of Dustin and Lucas arguing about what sounds like who would win in a fight between Batman and Superman. It’s like ice water dripping down his spine and Steve jerks up wide eyed and horrified as the kids look over at him in confusion. (Or: Steve lives the same day over and over again trying to save his friends)

Let's Be More Than Strangers by DrowningByDegrees/ @drowningbydegrees (Canon Divergent, Season 3, Fake Relationship | 19K | Teen): It’s meant to be a one-off favor to Robin, Eddie passing himself off as her boyfriend. Robin gets to hang onto the secret of why she never so much as bats an eyelash at the guys who come into Scoops Ahoy. Eddie gets more ice cream than he knows what to do with and the opportunity to pull one over on the former King of Hawkins High. Unfortunately, it all works just a little too well, and Eddie finds himself continuing to come back. Before any of them know it, Eddie is annoyed to find he’s pining over a straight boy, Steve is drowning in guilt as he falls just a little bit in love with his friend’s boyfriend, and Robin would really like them to figure out their nonsense before she dies of secondhand embarrassment.

🖤 Ahoy, Big Boy by ChronicRabbit/ @chronicrabbit (Canon Divergent, Season 3 | 80K | Explicit): Scoops Ahoy. America’s favorite place to cool down, and quite possibly the lamest summer job under the blazing Indiana sun. Especially if you were former High School royalty, brutally rejected by each and every university you’d applied to and promptly cut off by your shitty parents in an effort to teach: “some goddamned responsibility.” Between accidentally intercepted secret Russian communications, a meddling preteen matchmaker with no collarbones, and increased proximity with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, a measly $3 an hour plus tips is nowhere near enough to deal.

WIP

Burning Love by FluffyChicken (Modern AU, Firefighter Steve | 9/12 | 39K | Explicit): Firefighter Steve Harrington meets one Eddie Munson and their lives change forever.

🖤 better by you, better than me by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Canon Divergent, Season 1-2 | 20/? | 106K | Mature | Warning: Violence): November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realizes. / or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.

🖤 here be dragons by pukner/ @pukner (Canon Divergent, Autistic Steve & Eddie | 3/? | 19K | Explicit): Eddie Munson has kissed a boy, and now he has to handle the fallout. He’s got to grapple with the fact that he likes boys, likes a boy, and the harrowing fact that he may have inadvertently broken said boy’s heart. (Part 3 of off-script)

Reboot by plutosrose/ @plutosrose (Modern AU, Actor Steve & Eddie | 3/10 | 10K | Explicit): In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3. By early 2013, they aren’t speaking anymore. In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update–his character gets together with Eddie’s.

🖤 Steve Harrington’s Radical Fun Time Babysitting Service by Humanities_Handbag/ @humanityinahandbag, Invader_Sam (No Upside Down AU, 90’s | 23/? | 88K | Mature): Alternatively: Steve accidentally starts a babysitting service, falls in love, panics [in bisexual], and gets himself a boyfriend. (Part 1 of 90’s Music Store AU)

[mercy-burning]

She’s An Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k

***EDITED: 7/23/2021***

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!

Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!

***

He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.

It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.

Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.

Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.

Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.

So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?

He was a goner.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.

Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?

God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...

Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.

Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.

That wasn't what was different, though.

Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.

At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.

The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.

He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)

Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.

He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.

"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.

He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."

With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."

Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"

There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.

Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.

"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.

She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."

She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.

What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?

Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.

And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.

"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."

Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."

Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.

"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.

"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"

"Sometimes."

Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"

She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."

By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.

He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.

The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"

"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."

Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.

He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"

***

Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.

Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?

Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.

Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?

He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.

And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.

He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.

She was an angel.

An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.

And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.

Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?

"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.

He blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."

Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.

But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.

And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.

So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.

For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.

The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.

Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.

He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?

"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."

He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."

When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.

And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."

Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."

So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?

It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.

Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."

She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.

***

In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.

It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.

It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.

Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.

On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)

Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder. 

His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.

With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.

As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.

Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.

If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.

Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.

And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.

Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?

He had to know what she was doing.

So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.

And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.

Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."

He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."

"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.

As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?

She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."

"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames. 

By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."

Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."

But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."

He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.

"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"

His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.

"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor.  From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."

He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...

So that's what he was going to do.

Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.

"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"

Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."

Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this? 

Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.

As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.

He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin. 

The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.

Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.

Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.

Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.

Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.

But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.

So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.

He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.

His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.

And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.

The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.

No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.

"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.

He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.

If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.

"I miss you already, Doctor..."

***

He missed her, too.

The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.

It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.

Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.

...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.

And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.

But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.

The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.

The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.

And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.

And there she was.

Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.

Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.

So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.

Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.

The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.

"Did you get my note, Doctor?"

Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.

She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.

"Y—Yeah, I got them."

"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."

They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."

Well, he tried to ask, anyway.

Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"

"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."

She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.

Angel.

As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."

Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.

Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.

As she undid his belt, looking up at him  with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?

But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"

Oh...

His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."

That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.

Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.

The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.

So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.

And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.

"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.

Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.

He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.

***

No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.

Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.

How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.

Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.

"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.

He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."

"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.

"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.

She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."

"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."

He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.

So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."

He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"

With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."

She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"

"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."

Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.

But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.

Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.

Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.

"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"

***

She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.

It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.

Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.

Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.

He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.

It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.

"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."

"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.

"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."

Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.

He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.

And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.

The sound he made was inhuman.

She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.

But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."

He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"

"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.

Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."

"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.

He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.

"Always ready for you, angel..."

The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.

"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."

Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.

But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.

And, as always, she could tell.

Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"

All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.

"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"

"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.

"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."

Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.

She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...

If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.

He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.

"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"

It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.

"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."

With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.

And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.

***

Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.

A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.

A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.

A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.

A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.

And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.

It was her.

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[starryhyuck]

pride. (m)

pairing: sugardaddy!xiaojun x reader

words: 4.7k+

summary: stacked with two jobs, tuition bills and rent payments, an opportunity falls into your lap that leaves you wanting more.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, oral sex, degradation, overstimulation

It all started before you hit rock bottom.

When you enrolled in college and decided to study music, your parents refused to pay for your tuition as they had hoped you would pursue law instead. You’ve been passionate about music since you were younger, and financial burdens were not going to hold you back from pursuing your dreams.

You spend most school nights working a low wage job, and switch to a different low wage job on the weekends. You hardly had time to balance studies and work, but in order to make ends meet, you fill your body with caffeine and call it a day.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the counter of the campus’s local ice cream parlor, ignoring the email you received from your landlord minutes ago. It was yet another warning notice to pay last month’s rent, a task you’ve been putting off for weeks.

There’s barely anyone who comes into the shop this late at night on a weekday, only a few who have a midnight craving they have to fulfill. You’re surprised when Doyeon comes barging into the shop at half past midnight, dressed to the nines in her custom Versace gown.

She sighs and throws herself down on one of the parlor chairs. “I feel sick to my stomach. Is it possible for your intestines to hurt so much from champagne?”

You laugh at her. Doyeon was your first friend when you came to campus, and you were blissfully unaware of how wealthy she was until three months into your friendship. Her mother recently remarried and Doyeon despised her stepdad, but she never had any complaints about the money he carried with him. Doyeon’s offered to pay off some of your loans so that you wouldn’t have to work two jobs, but you always turned down her offer. You couldn’t take money from her — you had to have a little bit of pride.

“What happened now? More sleazy old men hitting on you?” You question, leaning over the counter to ask her.

“You know me so well,” she sighs, her curled hair styled perfectly down her shoulders. She removes her heels for a bit so she can breathe. “And Doyoung was complaining the entire time, pissing off my mom. You know how my brother is.”

You’ve met Doyoung once or twice, and he was very similar to Doyeon — confident, smart and not afraid to speak what’s on his mind. Doyoung had a very difficult time adjusting to their mother’s new beau.

“You know what would be nice?” Doyeon asks, eyelashes fluttering at you. “If you come with me next time.”

“You know I can’t,” you decline, moving to check on the tubs of ice cream. “I’m too busy with work and school. Can’t leave for a night of luxury.”

“But you can,” she whines loudly. “Just let me pay your rent for last month and we’ll call it even!”

You roll your eyes. “I hardly call that even, Doyeon.”

She huffs. “Please? I can’t stand to go to another one of these things and listen to those snotty people tell me how lucky I am that my mom found that douchebag. You would make it so much more fun, and save me from a night of torture.”

For the first time, you’re contemplating Doyeon’s offer. You’ve known for a long time now that you’re running low on funds, and you’re scared that if you don’t find a way to pay your landlord, he’ll end up evicting you. Your eyes glance up to meet Doyeon’s, who has her puppy dog gaze turned on.

You sigh. “Just one event. That’s it.”

She squeals, and almost jumps over the counter to hug you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, thank you!”

You awkwardly pat her back. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Doyeon failed to tell you that the event she was dragging you to would actually take place within a week.

You scrambled to find a dress and how to style your hair, knowing that if you showed up in an off-brand name, you would immediately look like an outcast. Doyeon saved you from the humiliation, shoving you into a Valentino dress that had your eyes rolling out of your head at the price tag. She also hired a hairstylist on the day of to come over and fix you up, which you clearly disagreed on until Doyeon told you it wasn’t up for debate.

And now, here you were, standing in the middle of the most luxurious place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Doyeon leans over to whisper to you while you’re eyeing the waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne.

“Just smile and act like you only care about money.”

She tugs you forward and you try your best to match her pace. A girl approaches you two first, nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. She’s wearing one of the most beautiful gowns you’ve ever seen, a Chanel piece her mother imported for the event.

“Hyojung, you’re way too young to be drinking anything,” Doyeon scolds.

“Calm down, mom. No one’s snitching except you. Who have you brought?”

Doyeon beams and loops her arm through yours. “This is my friend from college.” She gives Hyojung your name and you offer your best smile.

Hyojung returns your grin. “Nice to meet you. Where do your parents work?”

Doyeon opens her mouth to tell Hyojung the truth, but you stop her.

“They own a few chain businesses in our hometown. Nothing too grand,” you inform. Hyojung nods in agreement, eyes darting somewhere else.

“Well, Chanwoo is here. I’m going to get the gossip that he owes me from last time.”

When Hyojung leaves, Doyeon frowns at you. “Why did you lie?” She questions.

You shrug. “I would rather not be a fish out of water here more than I already am. It’s better if people think I’m at least middle class.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

You giggle and pat her cheek. “Of course I know.”

“Finally!” You hear someone exclaim, and you turn to see Doyoung rushing over to the two of you. “Where the hell have you been? Mom’s going to murder you for showing up so late.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Relax. We took a long time getting ready.”

Doyoung smiles gently at you before tugging his sister away. You feel even more awkward, hands folding together as you sway in the middle of the room. The people around you are talking animatedly and you can faintly hear the sound of the violin in the back of the room. You wonder if you should pretend to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to sit-

“Never seen you here before.”

You turn to see a guy your age, dressed in a full Armani suit and Rolex watch shining under the sparkling chandelier. You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Uh, yeah. My friend brought me. Do I look that weird?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “You look beautiful. I’ve just been to plenty of these galas before and I’ve pretty much memorized the guest list.”

Your heart lingers on his compliment and you avert your gaze.

“My first one. Are they always like this?”

“Boring, you mean?”

You laugh and he joins in. You swear you feel butterflies frantically flying in your stomach.

“So, what’s your story? Also have rich parents?” You ask.

He nods. “My mother owns half of the city’s major businesses. I’m Xiaojun, by the way.” You give him your name and he smiles, motioning to the back of the room. “Want to talk where it’s a little less loud?”

You agree, smiling and taking his arm as he leads you to the less chatty part of the room. You both sit on a luxurious velvet couch, a piece of furniture that most likely costs more than your entire apartment. Xiaojun hands you a glass of champagne, his smile taking your breath away.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he muses, eyeing you carefully.

You laugh. “Is this a job interview?”

He shrugs. “Could be.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his answer, but you figure rich people were always weird and vague like that. “I go to the same college as Doyeon, and I’m studying music. Not really much to say, I spend most of my time working.”

He nods, and you can’t place what the look in his eye is for.

“Music, that’s interesting. What made you decide to take on such a daunting major?”

“Daunting as in it’s not law or business?” You counter, giving him a look.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here. In my world, I haven’t met anyone who isn’t a law or business major. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”

He challenges your gaze, and you feel a warmth in your stomach you haven’t felt in months. You jump when you hear the shriek of your name and Doyeon comes charging towards the two of you.

“There you are! Jesus, I had to hear Doyoung fight with my stepdad for almost ten minutes.” Her exasperation turns into surprise when she sees Xiaojun seated next to you. “Oh! Hey, Dejun. Didn’t see you there.”

He offers a smile. “Hi, Doyeon.”

“Do you mind if I pull her away for a bit?” Doyeon asks, but she’s already looped your arm through hers. You slightly protest when she tugs you away from Xiaojun, but you’re immediately distracted by her next question. “What the hell were you doing talking to him? You know what Xiaojun is famous for, right?”

You frown, looking over your shoulder again to see him, watching as his line of sight carefully follows you and Doyeon.

“No, I don’t. He seemed nice. What’s the issue?”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “He’s a sugar daddy. Always looking for new sugar babies to satisfy him. He’s been blowing through girls like the wind for the past year. He’s not good, and I don’t want you in his company without me.”

You try to process that the man you were just talking to was, in fact, scoping you out to get a potential new sugar baby. You can’t wrap your mind around it, even when Doyeon drags you to the corner of the room, where Doyoung and her stepdad are still fighting.

Your eyes linger on Xiaojun’s table, but he’s already long gone.

—

“Nice shop you got here.”

You practically jump out of your shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, almost spilling a cup of ice cream down your front. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you spin around, eyes widening at the sight of Xiaojun standing in the middle of the ice cream shop. Your manager, Seojeong, raises an eyebrow at your skittish nature.

“Is there a problem here?” She questions, but you immediately brush her off.

“No, no problem!” You squeak. You immediately rush over the counter and push Xiaojun out of the shop. “Seojeong, I’m taking my 15!”

“Um, okay?”

Once you’ve got Xiaojun on the street, you take notice of what he’s wearing - another dark Armani suit, same Rolex watch, and hair styled in a way that’s meant to make your panties drop. You push back your thoughts and whisper harshly to him.

“I know why you’re here.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you now?”

“Yes, I do,” you state confidently, tilting your chin up. “Doyeon told me about your little sugar daddy scheme.”

He laughs. “Ah, is that what they’re calling it now? Didn’t realize I was such a bad guy for wanting to help out girls in bad situations.”

You scoff. “Do you get off on this? Lowering yourself to the underprivileged lives of the poor? Pretending to be the hero that saves the damsel in distress?”

He snickers at your line of questioning, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing you. He leans down so that you’re face to face, and you falter as he becomes closer to you.

“And if I do? What if I like giving you money so you don’t have to work two jobs?”

“How do you know I have two jobs?” You inquire.

“You looked so lost at that gala. I told you I’ve memorized the guest list — you’ve never been on it. It became relatively easy to discover the rest of the details. It must be exhausting doing this everyday, haven’t you ever wanted a break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and take a step away from him. “What’s in it for you?”

He grins. “The pleasure of your company.”

“What kind of company?” You ask, doubting him. You won’t lie and say the offer isn’t intriguing to you. You still have pride, definitely, but the weight of two jobs has really taken a toll on you lately. Plus, Doyeon said Xiaojun breezes through girls anyways. You could get a break from paying your rent for a few months and before you know it, he’ll move onto the next charity case he wants to help out.

There’s no harm in that, right?

Your thoughts are blown through the window, however, when his smirk grows wider. You’re sure there’s a large damp spot in your underwear right now.

“Whatever company you like, little one.”

You’re fucked.

—

You keep the relationship with Xiaojun quiet and under wraps. You know Doyeon would have many thoughts about your choice, and she would probably convince you to let her pay your bills instead of Xiaojun. You couldn’t place that burden on her shoulders.

Surprisingly, Xiaojun doesn’t ask for much. He swings by the ice cream parlor once a week, drops off a $1000 check, stays to chat for a little, and leaves. Seojeong doesn’t raise any questions, albeit you’ve seen her glance at the envelope you leave in the back room. You would’ve thought that Xiaojun is the type of guy who invites you over to his penthouse apartment to get to know him, but he’s been quite reserved. He never crosses the line with you, and his questioning stays on the topic of your classes and work. You continuously wonder how to captivate his attention and if the other girls before you failed to do so.

About a month into the deal, your patience wears thin. You’re not even really sure why you’re frustrated in the first place. Anyone would love a no strings attached deal like this, getting $1000 every week with barely any commitment. You quit your other job because you don’t need both paychecks now and you’ve been able to keep up on rent. However, a part of you expected to be close with Xiaojun in some way at this point, especially considering the way he was flirting with you when he first propositioned this.

You’re fully prepared to confront him on Friday night, the same day he usually drops off the check and chats with you for a bit. You practically throw yourself over the counter when he takes a step inside the shop, yelling over your shoulder to Seojeong that you’re taking your break.

Xiaojun laughs at your eagerness, allowing you to tug on his suit as you pull him outside.

“Someone’s excited today. Need the check that badly?”

You frown at the accusation and exhale. “No, as a matter of fact, the money you’ve given me so far could probably cover me for a year.”

���Then what’s with the frowny face?”

“There’s a catch here, Xiaojun, I know there is. You’ve been too nice,” you say, waving a finger at him.

He smirks. “Have I been? I told you, little one, all I need is your company. You’ve given that to me every week, haven’t you?”

You scoff. “Barely. We talk for a few minutes while I’m making orders for other customers and then you leave. I would hardly call that company.”

He gets even cockier, if that was humanly possible. Xiaojun has to know what he’s doing to you — the mystery of his true personality starting to make you curious.

Similar to your first meeting, he leans down until he’s a few inches from your face, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t mean to neglect you, little one. Did you want more from me?”

You shift awkwardly, tension building in your stomach from his words. He was clearly teasing you and his patience was stronger than you previously believed. He waited a month just to have you desperate like this, wanting something more than a few minutes of his time. You’re so wet at this point that you’re definitive Xiaojun knows.

To prove your point, his smirk grows wider. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“U-Um, I have some homework to finish-“

“Great, I’ll pick you up after work and you can finish it at my apartment.” He doesn’t give you any time to protest, moving closer to you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Next time, little one, just tell me you need more attention. Daddy will gladly give it to you.”

—

You’re a nervous wreck when Xiaojun’s expensive Rolls-Royce pulls up to the curb after your shift has ended. His car looks terribly out of place on the streets of your dirty campus, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You quickly get in and ask him to go before anyone can recognize you.

The ride to his apartment in the upper part of town is filled with silence, making you even more jittery. Xiaojun, on the other hand, is calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the console. You try to swallow your nerves and reason with yourself.

This is just Xiaojun — son of a multimillionaire, heir to many respective companies within the city. This is just Xiaojun — the man who’s been giving you $1000 every week with no strings attached, the man who’s clouded your dreams for the past month on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on your thoughts when Xiaojun pulls up to the parking garage of his complex. The both of you exit the car and he hands the keys to one of the valet drivers. His fingers fall to the small of your back as he guides you inside.

You try to avoid the blatant stares from other residents. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans, but you couldn’t look more like a fish out of water. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to mind, walking into the elevator and pressing the top floor button. You ride the elevator in silence, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you reach the penthouse.

The apartment is straight out of the movies. The decor is extravagant, and you’re afraid if you touch anything, you’ll have to pay a fine. Xiaojun leads you to the dining room, pulling out a chair for you, despite your confusion.

“You can finish your homework here. I’ll be in the study upstairs.”

“Wait wait wait,” you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re leaving?”

He grins. “Did you want me to stay?”

He was really going to make you beg for it. Your eyes narrow and you feel a burst of confidence run through you. You tilt your head up until you’re a few centimeters from his mouth.

“You said Daddy would give me more attention if I asked for it.”

He growls, eyes darkening. Before you know it, he has you pinned to the grand table, staring at you as if you’re his last meal. It’s your turn to smirk as his control snaps, fingers digging into your hips roughly.

“Think it’s fun to test me? The other girls before you were more behaved,” he hisses, eyes wandering to the valley of your breasts.

“But you don’t like that, do you? You like it when they disobey,” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “You like giving them their punishment.”

Xiaojun’s lips are pressed to yours before you can even fully register what’s going on, his body locking you against the wood. You whimper, hands gripping his forearm to keep steady. It’s messy and frantic, and you can see all of the built up tension starting to show.

“What would Doyeon think of you whoring yourself out for money?” He snickers, making you feel small under his gaze. “I bet she would be so ashamed. Little one gave up her pride for a few thousand dollars?”

You whine. “It’s not like that.”

“But isn’t it?” He questions you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. You wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties today but Xiaojun seems satisfied nonetheless, snapping the elastic against your skin. “Can’t wait to get a taste of this cunt. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, little one?”

You probably look pathetic like this — half of your body sprawled across Xiaojun’s dining table, pants around your ankles, and a large wet spot ruining the fabric of your underwear. You pitifully nod in response to his question, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his expensive trousers. He chuckles when he follows your line of sight.

“Hungry?”

You fall into the role so easily. “Yes, Daddy.”

He directs you on your knees, the cold marble floor sending a shiver up your spine. You eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt and exposing his leaking cock for you. The tip is red and angry, demanding to be touched.

“Go ahead, little one. Make Daddy feel good.”

You wrap your mouth around the tip, nearly moaning at the taste of him. You haven’t been intimate with someone in so long and his cock has your mouth watering.

“Good girl,” he soothes, pushing his cock further down your throat. Tears immediately spring into your eyes when he ignores your gag reflex, hands gripping the back of your head as he guided you. “Shh, doing so well for me, little one.”

You allow him to fuck your mouth, trying to brush aside the tears falling down your face and saliva pooling at the sides of your mouth. It’s filthy and you love it — you haven’t been used like this in months and you never realized how much you missed it.

“Your mouth is so perfect, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll pay for anything you want if you stay on your knees like this, all pretty for me.”

You gasp when he lets you breathe, pulling his cock away. He chuckles at you, fingers returning to stroke himself as he watches you regain yourself. He tugs you back on your feet, overlooking your wobbly legs and pushing you into the living room. You’re about to question him on what he’s doing until he’s shoving you up against his glass window. You gaze downwards, seeing a plethora of people passing by on the street and cars honking to one another. It’s a view you only see in the movies, and you know Xiaojun’s eager to fuck you into the fantasy.

His fingers slide into your underwear, breath hot against your neck. “Look at all of them down there, little one. Bet they want to be just like you, fucked so good for everyone to see. Even better when I cum inside you, hm?”

You freeze. “D-Daddy,” you whisper frantically. “I’m not on the pill.”

He’s silent behind your figure before you feel him playing with your folds, your wetness coating his hand.

“Isn’t that nice? What do you think of getting knocked up, little one? This entire place could be yours, you would never have to step foot in that ice cream shop again. All the wealth you never imagined, you could spend all day in bed with me while I stuff you full. You would look so pretty on Daddy’s arm. I wonder how many times we could sneak away from the crowd so I could fuck my cock into you. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

You gasp, growing wetter by the second. He easily slides a finger into your heat and all common sense is thrown out of the window.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg. “Please please please. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

He laughs at your desperation, pushing another digit inside. “Even though you’re not on the pill? How filthy of you, little one.”

It’s sick. You barely know this man but all you want is his cum inside you. You can imagine the headlines now — Millionaire’s Son Gets Poor Girl Pregnant. But you want it. You want it so badly.

You hear the tearing of your panties but you couldn’t give a fuck what happens to them, pushing yourself further into him. He laughs again at you, tip lining up to your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

You cry. “Please, Daddy! I want it, I’ve been so good for you! I’ll let you cum inside me and everyone can watch. I want them to see who I belong to.”

“Fuck,” he growls at your submission. You nearly scream when he pushes into you, his girth bigger and thicker than you’ve ever taken before. On top of that, you haven’t had sex in months and the stretch is almost unbearable. Your head rolls back but Xiaojun grips your chin and forces you to look outside the window. “Look at all those people, little one. They’re about to get a nice show.”

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you like he wants to break you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls roughly, causing you to yelp at the pain. You’re past the point of coherent thinking, Xiaojun’s cock fucking you so good you can barely talk.

“Good, little one?”

“Mmf,” you gurgle, gasping at the force of his movements. You can feel him in your throat, and it’s as if he’s waited all these weeks just to spill his seed into you.

You tumble over the edge when he pinches your clit, whispering the dirtiest confessions into your ear. “Needy whore,” he laughed sinisterly. “Probably can’t go a day without my cock after this. Going to be begging me for it, wanting me all the time now. I can’t wait to take you everywhere and anywhere I please. I’ll buy you so many cute outfits, little one. So many skirts that make it easy for me to slide right inside and fuck you until you’re crying for me.”

You clench around his cock and fall over the edge, your wetness spilling down your thighs.

“Daddy,” you breathlessly hiss, body going limp in his arms.

“You came so much for me, little one. Your slutty cunt is so good for me, isn’t it?”

“Please, Daddy,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. I want to feel your cum.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, the sound of his balls repeatedly slapping against your pussy echoes around the room. “You wanna get pregnant? All baby wants is a big fat cock to stuff her full of cum, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, not even caring how pitiful you look at this point. “Want it so badly.”

Your desperation snaps the cord inside of him and he spills every last drop into you. You whimper at the warm feeling, some of his cum starting to drip out and coat the inside of your thighs. You both attempt to catch your breaths, your legs feeling like jelly.

You’re about to move away from him until Xiaojun keeps you pinned to the window, stopping you from leaving.

“W-What are y-you doing?” You ask, still out of breath from the fucking you just received.

“I don’t think that was the one,” he muses, eyes locked on where you two are intertwined. He offers an experimental thrust that has you scrambling.

“No, no,” you sniffle, trying to move away from him again. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“I think you can,” he chuckles, enjoying the way your cunt wraps so nicely around his cock. “And you will. Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet, little one.”

You spend hours fucking like bunnies with Xiaojun taking you on almost every surface of his apartment. You don’t even care that you’re impregnated, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases while the sun falls under the skyline.

Your pride didn’t matter that much anyways.

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried. 

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[nolpat0]

something like this | s. crosby

summary: sidney has always wanted someone like her and confess as much to her

wc: 1,573

warnings: mentions of hospital/injury, one sexual innuendo

The low, metronomic beeping of the monitor keeps a steady, consistent beat to the familiar, dulcet hum of a female voice. In his drugged, cloud nine-like haze, Sidney does his best imitation of a grin, the gloriously soothing tone of her words easing him out of his concern.

"Sid?" her whisper is followed by the warm press of her fingers against the skin of his upper arm, a sweet reminder of her unwavering support. "Are you awake?"

He is; but the boy fights the grin that is sure to give him away in order to keep the easy flow of her rambles going, enjoying her vivid stories and the giggle at the end of her words as she confesses the minuscule details of her day to him. She believes him to be fast asleep, for her words to be nothing but a useless hum, and he enjoys the unexpected imtimacy of the affectionate gesture.

"I see what you're doing," she speaks again, the edge of her words exploding into the melodic tumble of her soft laughter. However, she doesn't cease her talking. "I'll just keep talking and making a fool out of myself so you can pretend you're asleep."

Sidney can't help the glimmer of love that warms his hospital blanket-clad body, a small, tender smile tugging at the edges of his full lips, revealing himself. Her fingertips trail over the carved outline of his cheekbones and brush against his hair as he finally opens his coffee-colored eyes. He gives her a earnest smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his dark eyes travel over her face, his full, pink lips splitting open into a wide grin to reveal shining teeth. She mumbles a soft, calming greeting and caressed his cheek a second time with the tips of her fingertips.

“So you gonna fall asleep again so I can tell you what Mat did next?” She asks, the edges of her lips curled into a playful smirk as she teases him, fingers still running agaisnt the midnight strands of his short hair in a loving manner.

Sidney can’t help the gentle, genuine laugh that rumbles from his chest, his grip on the pale blue hospital blanket loosening as he lets his palm fall flat on the curve of her knee. He nods quickly, eager to keep hearing her soft speech and tease her back, “Yes of course. My bad.”

He doesn’t catch the small smile that lights up her face because his dark lashes are already falling flat agaisnt his faintly flushed cheeks. She doesn’t waste another second launching into a detailed discription of her colleague, Mat’s experience with a particularly awkward run in with their boss. As she gently lulled him farther into the comforting clutches of sleep, Sidney tried his very best to keep his facial expressions netural but failed quite badly, which propelled her further into making him laugh. As the tall hockey player felt sleep finally take him, he felt overwhelmed with the buzzing, delicious feeling of love. He was consumed by the complete love he held in his heart for the girl still talking and running her fingers through his hair. He was too deeply in love to even think properly. And Sidney loved every minute of it.

———

Sidney couldn’t feel the light press of her palm agaisnt his as the white lab coat clad doctor filled the couple in on his prognosis and what the steps leading them forward would look like, a detailed, and frankly terrifying process that would have Sidney recovering and ready to return on the ice in a month or so. His breath was strained through his lungs, his jaw dancing with a clenched muscle as he tried to reign in his fears and desire to lace up his skates without a practical thought about the nasty consequences. Sidney just wanted to return to the locker room and resume being captain, and knew the only way to that was through the plan the doctor was currently laying out. Which scared Sidney to his bones if he was allowed to be completely honest.

“Sid,” she called, eyes watching her boyfriend closely as the hospital room door clicked closed in the wake of the doctors exit. Nerves clung to her limbs but she shook them off in order to ease Sid and his tense posture. She tried again, more forcefully. “Sidney.”

His chin dips and he finally slides his cinnamon coloured eyes to lock onto hers, trying to mask his evident fears. But she knows him far too well to skip the flicker of fear shining in his irises or the slight quiver of nerves that shook his large hands. Instinctively, her palms slide over his, fingers knitting tightly with his in a subconscious attempt to ease his shaking.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she nods, refusing to break eye contact in order to get her confidence across. She could tell he was scared, as was she, but she understood that in the end, all would work out. And they would be ok.

“I know.” Sidney tries again, blatantly deflecting.

Her lips quirk into a soft, knowing smile, her eyes flickering up distractedly as she brushes his hair back from his forehead. She smiles deeper absentmindedly, a smile that Sidney adores with all his heart. He felt a tiny fraction of his terror fading away like ice thawing in his veins.

“You don’t have to act like you’re not worried, Sid.” her eyes dropped to hold his loving gaze, her lips set in a firm line. “You don’t have to always be the strong one. That’s what I’m here for.”

A tight breath eases from his lips as his eyes close lightly, his heart settling back into its former steady pace of calm at her carefully chosen words. He was grateful, for her presence and the pressure of her fingers in his and the weight of her words. He’d never experienced a love like hers, where she loved him wholly and unconditionally, allowing him to remove all his amored layers and bravado. He revealed his true self to her and she had only kissed him passionately and grinned like he’d given her the best gift she could receive, repeating her daily mantra of how much she loved him. Sidney had never felt more loved than he did at that moment. His heart swelled fondly at the memory, the edges of his lips turning up in a doting smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, a little unsure of what exactly he was thanking her for, but the statement was truthful.

She responded with a light, fleeting kiss pressed to his temple, her palms reaching up to softly cup the sharp curve of his jaw. He waits with baited breath, but soon relaxes fully under her loving gaze content with just staring at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, the syllables falling softly from his chapped lips in a unintentional audible confession.

She blinks at the unguarded, genuine compliment she knows he must mean, when she’s been curled up in the uncomfortable hospital chair beside his bed for the past two days, sleepless nights smudged under her eyes and dressed in his old clothes. She feels the burn of her cheeks under his gaze and the compliment. Sidney catches the slight embarrassment and reaches out to brush his thumbs under her eyes. “You’re cute when you get flustered.”

She rolls her eyes in response, mouth curving into a mirthful grin.

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you fall back asleep?”

Sidney reaches out and hooks his fingers the the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her closer and onto the narrow mattress, shifting his own body to accommodate hers. “Only if you sleep with me.” he replied, coffee coloured eyes gleaming with flirtatious mischief. His fingers don’t loosen their hold, instead going to grip her hips and pull her flush to his side, savouring the warmth radiating from her smaller figure now dwarfed by his size. She curls tightly to his side, fingers digging into the material of his shirt and leg falling over his as his palm cups the underside of her thigh before it gave away to her knee. She hums with a soft laughter, commenting that she’ll think about his desirous proposal, ignoring the fact they both knew she’d already complied. Sidney settled in with a long, adoration filled kiss to her hair that didn’t hold a drop of lust. He grins at the tired lilt to her voice as she mumbles softly into his thin shirt, the reverberations flowing through his chest. His fingertips smoothed over her hair as he breathed deeply, catching her familiar scent. “I love you so much.” Sidney whispered into the layers of her hair as she promptly fell asleep to the barley audible confession, meaning every syllable with his whole heart.

When her breathing has evened out, a soft almost imperceptible whistle of her breath as she falls into a deep, dream-less sleep upon his chest, fingers tightly curled in the material of his thin shirt, as if she can’t fathom letting him go, even in sleep, Sidney reveals his truest confession.

“I’ve always wanted to be loved by someone like you.” his words are hot and hit the top of her forehead before he kisses her skin. Sidney is quick to brush a stray eyelash from her cheek. “And now I have you. And I’m not letting you go.”

[cursed-domain]

Dazed

Stoner!Geto Suguru x Reader 

(and implied Geto x Gojo hhehe)

WC ~3.2k

You get higher than intended, and Geto gets more hands-on than expected. Even with his friend (?) sleeping just a few feet away.

Contains: NSFW and DC - dubcon and manipulation. Drug use, degradation, oral sex (both male and female receiving), unprotected sex, and potentially voyeurism 

Gojo is already too high to be of any use by the time you arrive. You see him sprawled across a couch as Geto opens the door for you, eyes lidded over, an unusually tranquil smile gracing his lips. He does still manage to grin when he sees you, waving a lazy hand in your direction.

“He was more fun half an hour ago,” says Geto, sitting you down on the other, smaller sofa as he pulls his lighter from the low table in front of you. “Always gets all giggly for a while before he calms down.”

“Nuh-uh,” Gojo contributes. “Been fine this whooole time.”

“Mhm.” Geto smiles patronizingly at his friend as he hands you the lighter.

You giggle quietly and clumsily flick the silver wheel at the top. It does nothing.

“Have you not used one of those before?”

Embarrassed, you shake your head. “Nope. I’ve only smoked a couple times. Someone’s always done it for me.”

“You’re cute.” Geto holds out his hand, and you place the small black box in his palm. “It’s like this.” He holds it straight up and quickly strokes his thumb across the sparkwheel. A small flame ignites, dancing brightly in the dim, pungent room. “Your turn.”

He extinguishes the flame and hands it back to you. You nod silently, still a little flushed. “And… um…”

“You haven’t used a bong before either, have you?” The condescending smile is trained on you, now. And you don’t mind nearly as much as you should.

“Maybe not… I think I get it, though.” You point to the top of the glass tube in front of you. “My mouth goes there.” You point to the bowl. “And the lighter goes there. And then I inhale.”

“Smart girl,” he purrs. “You figured it out all by yourself.” He leans over you, pulling the implement closer, brushing your thigh as he withdraws his hand. “Want me to go first? Show you how it’s done?”

“Nope,” you say, with much more confidence than you feel. “You already had some before I got here. ‘S my turn now.”

He shrugs lazily, squeezing your shoulder in what you take as a gesture of encouragement. “If you say so.”

You lean forward eagerly. Gojo sits up to watch, laughing as you curl your lips tight around the outside of the tube. “Oy, Geto,” he laughs. “She kinda looks like you did earlier -”

“Shh.” Geto grins crookedly in his friend’s direction, pulling your head back before you can process what’s just passed between them. “Lips on the inside, sweetheart. Not over the rim.”

You nod, heart beating fast in a mixture of embarrassment and excitement and who-knows-what as you try again. You’re proud of how much you manage to inhale, although the feeling of self-satisfaction is diminished by the unsupressable coughs which erupt from your lips as soon as you separate them from the glass.

“Not too bad.” Gojo claps slowly for you, so seemingly sincere that your pride starts to return. “The coughs get better. You’ll learn.”

“We’ll teach you,” Geto elaborates, rubbing your back as you’re wracked by a second, smaller wave of coughs. “You’re gonna be a real stoner pretty soon.”

“Am not,” you protest. “Not gonna smoke all the time like you idiots.”

“Hm?” Gojo’s eyes seem a little brighter now, glinting sapphire as a beam of sunlight catches them through the window. “Nah. I mean - maybe I’m kind of an idiot right now. But Geto’s not. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you say, already slightly dazed. “I know. He just taught me.” You’re vaguely aware of his hand sliding from your back down your waist. It’s warm and soft, and you can’t seem to make yourself care as it brushes your hip bone.

“Yeah.” Gojo’s eyes train on Geto’s movements. They widen briefly, then narrow as the bright light fades, overshadowed by a passing cloud. “Mhm. Man knows how to hold his smoke.” He falls back down onto the couch, folding his hands behind his head. “You don’t, though.”

You giggle as he closes his eyes, a smirk small but plain on his handsome face. “Yup. ‘M already feeling kinda. Hm.” You’re not quite sure how to describe the feeling. And it’s so hard to think at all, with Geto’s long fingers slowly crawling up your thigh. 

“‘m sleepy. You guys - have fun, okay?” You lean your head against Geto’s shoulder. A few minutes later, Gojo’s head drops off to the side, his breathing slowed to a slow and peaceful rhythm.

“He won’t be up for a while,” says Geto. “Just us, okay?

You nod. He’s so warm, and - he seems so much more alert than you. It comes from experience, you suppose. You nod again, absently, shivering a bit as his fingertips slide along your hips. 

“Sensitive, hm?”

“Huh?” 

“I’m barely even touching you, sweetheart. And you’re already getting all… hm.” He exhales gently as you turn your eyes towards his. He’s close enough for you to pick out each individual eyelash, thick and dark, blinking slowly as you lean closer. 

“I smoked too much, I think.” You giggle, high and soft, laying your hand over his as it works at the silver button fastening your jeans. You can practically taste the tang of his breath. “Don’t do this much.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d come. I thought you might be a little… straight laced. A good girl, you know?”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause I am.” You lower your face to cough again and then bring it back up, grinning sheepishly, biting your lip. “Maybe not right now, though.”

“Absolutely not.” He takes the back of your head, surprising you - you’d almost forgotten, in your haze, that he had another hand. “And that’s alright. In fact, I want to keep you just like this.” He presses you forward, and suddenly you really can taste him - his breath, his lips, his tongue, almost sloppy against your face as he drags down the zipper of your jeans. “Not too loud, now.”

You glance over at his friend, sleeping soundly just feet away. “I talk quiet. I’ll be good.”

Geto smiles, baring his front teeth. “I wasn’t referring to your talking.”

You suppress a gasp as two of his fingers slide over you, pressed tight against your panties by the denim seams above them. 

“Bad girl. Didn’t I just tell you to be quiet?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from making another, louder noise as he nudges your panties aside. “‘m sorry…”

“But I know you just couldn’t help yourself. So I’ll have to help you, instead.” His hand wraps around your shoulder and slaps over your mouth, suppressing your whines as the other set of fingers spreads you open. “You are a bad girl, aren’t you? All wet when I’ve barely touched you.”

You squirm, letting out a whimper behind his hand. The movement guides your cunt over his fingers, and you moan again as his fingertips brush up against your clit.

“Don’t wake him up, sweetheart. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, but - I want you all to myself.” With one last slow, gentle stroke, he pulls his hand from between your thighs, moving the other from your mouth so he can wipe the mess you’ve made on your cheek. “And you want all my attention, too, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Mhm.” You feel almost dizzy, now, struggling to speak even now that he’s allowing it. 

“You wanna be good for me?”

Good, bad. You don’t really know which one he thinks you are, or which one would describe how you’re acting right now. But you want to agree so badly. Just to see him smile at you again. “Yes. Yesyesyes. Wanna be good for you, Geto.”

“Of course you do.” You feel warm all over again as his white-toothed smile makes another appearance, just for you. Especially when he touches you. Right under your shirt, working his slow way up your stomach. “How about you be really good and take this off for me, hm?”

“Yessir.” You open and close your mouth slowly as you pull your shirt over your head. It feels cottony, full and dry. You stick your tongue out and look down, cross-eyed, at your own finger as you run it over your tongue, testing whether it’s really somehow dried up. “Hahh-”

Geto catches your wrist, looking at you with an intensity that almost frightens you. “What’re you doing now, sweetheart?”

“Um…” you cock your head to the side, suddenly confused. His eyes are pretty, his face not nearly as flushed as your own feels. “I don’t know,” you giggle. “Do you know?”

“Not exactly. But I wouldn’t say I mind.” You squeak in surprise as he lifts you from the couch, depositing you on the floor in front of him. “It did get me thinking about some things, though.”

You look up at him, leaning forward, eyes wide. “Whatchu mean?”

“Mm…” He shrugs, rolling his shoulders back into the cushion of the couch behind him. “Take your tits out right now and I’ll tell you.” 

“Oh.” You don’t think he’s joking. Not even a little. So you nod seriously, immediately reaching back to fumble over the clasp of your bra.

He brings his arms forward, latching his hands over yours and deftly separating the hooks from their loops.

“Thank youuuu.” You smile as the cups fall from your breasts, leaving you naked above the waist. “Okay. Now, you have to tell me.”

“Mhmm.” He cups your breasts, running his thumbs over your hard nipples as he squeezes gently underneath. “I was thinking about using your mouth properly. It looked so empty with just a finger inside.” 

You shake your head side to side, trying to clear it of whatever fuzz is inhibiting your comprehension. “What…”

He glances down at your jeans, already undone, their high waist bunched low on your hips, then to his, fastened and peaked noticeably under the zipper. “I want your mouth on my cock.” 

“Oh…” you blink up at him, setting a wary hand on his thigh.

He reaches forward and grabs the back of your head. “Now. You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Uhuh. I do. Mhm.” You place your chin on the couch between his legs, looking up as his palm urges you forward. You open your mouth, sucking at him through the fabric dividing you. 

“Take it out yourself. You’re clumsy right now, and I want to watch you try.”

“No ‘m not…” Your words are undercut by the way you fumble with the metal disk. In a second, though, you manage it, pushing the button and zipper aside. He lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his pants and underwear down his legs, laughing indulgently when you get distracted by the way his cock slaps against his navel. Eager to prove yourself, you lean forward, licking a thick stripe up his cock before swirling your tongue around the tip.

“You can do better than that.” 

You look up, pulling your mouth away with a small pop. “Oh… I really am trying  -“

“I know.” He laces a hand in your hair, ruffling it, letting a few strands fall over your face. “You’re really having a hard time right now, aren’t you? I can tell.” A corner of his mouth twitches at your innocently saddened expression. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” His face lights up - he’s making it do that, maybe, or maybe it’s just happening on its own. You can’t tell. “Make it nice and easy for you, okay?” 

“Ah-huh.” You sit back on your heels. “Gonna help me.”

“Mhm.” He stands up in front of you, keeping his grip tight on your hair the whole time. “Just get up on your knees and open your mouth, okay?” 

You quickly pick up your thighs from your heels, lolling your tongue out as your eyes flick up and down, taking in the way he towers over you, the way his hair, half down, frames his face even from this low angle. “All done. ‘M waiting.”

“Good girl.” You beam, wide-mouthed, and stick your tongue out even farther as he closes the distance between you. “Don’t pull back, okay?”

“Ah -ah!” He jerks you forward, shoving into your mouth before you can say anything in response. You’re vaguely aware of his mouth, still - he’s sighing, almost humming with approval, but you don’t really notice. You just try not to gag as he uses you, holding your head still and fucking your mouth, thrusting harder each time you moan around him, each time he sees drool trail from your lips. Finally, it’s too much. You wretch around his cock and tug your head away. “I’m - I’m sorry -” you pant, screwing your mouth up in an expression of disappointment. “Just - need a break.”

“Hm?” Some of the bright glow fades from his eyes as he leans over, replaced by a darker gleam. “Too much for you already?” He grasps your jaw tight in one hand as the other tugs on your hair. “I thought you wanted to give me what I wanted. Are you so dazed and stupid right now that you forgot?”

“No - no, I’m not. I remember.” You want to withdraw into yourself, frightened by his sudden change in tone, but you can’t look away. The nail of his index finger strokes across your lips, willing them to part. “Just - need a second. Please.” 

“Hm.” He presses harder on your mouth, forcing his finger inside. “You’re not feeling bad, are you? You decided to come here today. Right? You decided to get yourself into trouble. Decided to smoke more than you could handle like the stupid little stoner bitch you are.” 

You try to talk around his finger, blinking back tears as your response comes out muffled. “Mm-mmm. ‘M not like that.” What does he mean by trouble? you wonder. Why’s he being so, sooo mean? 

He makes eye contact with you as he sees the confusion rising in your face. You breathe a sigh of relief as his gaze softens, smiling back at him as he wipes his drool-covered finger across your face. “Nevermind, sweetheart. I say things like that sometimes, but I don’t mean anything by it. You know that, right?”

“Oh.” You giggle, suddenly feeling very foolish. “Right. I know.” You lean forward again. “I don’t need more of a break. I’m okay.”

“Good.” He lets go of your hair, letting it fall in strands against your neck. “Isn’t your mouth tired, though? I think it must be. I think you’re ready to try something else.” You open and close your mouth again. It still feels full and dry, stuffed with puffy clouds. “How about you take these off -” he points, guiding your eyes to your half-fallen jeans “- and then we’ll do something new, okay?”

“Yeah…” You get on your back, right between the table and the couch, knocking your foot into a table leg as you do. “Oops…” You glance in Gojo’s direction, but he doesn’t move.

“Shh.” Geto shakes his head as you grin up at him, taking a moment to watch you struggle before lowering himself to the floor with you. “I don’t want to have to share you, do I?”

“Mmm…” It’s hard for you to think as he lifts your hips, pulling your panties down past your knees. “Nope. No. You don’t.”

He wraps each hand around one of your thighs, spreading them wide. “You’re such a smart little thing.”

“Thank - Tha -” You stutter to a stop as he nips at your inner thigh. “Ooo.” He bites again, higher and harder, and you tighten your legs around his head.

“What were you saying?” He looks up, narrowing his eyes as you fumble over your own tongue. “Are you really having that much trouble? I’m only asking you to say a few words.”

“I was - was saying-” You gasp softly as he drags his tongue over your cunt, and lose your train of thought all over again.

“I’ll help you,” he says. He laps at you, long and slow, drawing another soft noise from your lips. “I’m going to do that again. And you’re going to say what you were trying to say a moment ago. Gonna be a good, polite girl and thank me.”

You sit up and nod quickly, letting your head fall back as he follows through on his words. “Mm - mhmm. Thank you, Geto. Ahh -” Your hips chase after him as he pulls away, suddenly grinding against empty air. “Nononono. Please come back.”

“You’re cute.” He circles two fingers around your clit before pushing them inside you, curling back and making you squirm as he continues to talk, his voice slow and calming and steady. “I could give you more than my tongue, if you wanted.”

“More?” You’re staring so intently at his hand that you have to force yourself to blink. “You - ahhh - you wanna give me even more?”

“Mhm.” His two fingers split inside you, stretching you open. “I’m being very generous, aren’t I? Letting you take my cock even when you’re acting like this.”

“How I’m acting? Oh...” You really don’t know how you’re acting. And at this moment, you feel like it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s really going to let you -

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

You push your hips forward, forcing his fingers inside of you to the hilt. “Uh-huh. You’re gonna give me your cock. Gonna feel sooo nice.” You look up, remembering something as he tilts his head. Remembering what he likes to hear. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He squeezes your thighs harder as he lifts them, pushing them back as he swells forward, splitting you open in a single stroke that leaves you feeling even more dazed than before. “Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me.”

“Ah - ah -” He doesn’t need to tell you. You can’t look away. Your eyes are too wide, too big, overwhelmed by the sight of his face above you as your body is overwhelmed by the jolts and shivers he sends through you. You’re moaning, you think, or maybe just gasping for breath. He might be, too, but you’re not focused on what you can hear. Only what you can feel, vibrating through your core and your legs, flowing through your entire body, its warm intensity at odds with the static of your mind. You let go, let it flow through you, only slightly aware of the way Geto’s cock pulses inside you, letting go in just the same way. 

A moment later, he lets your legs lower to the floor, falling over you and meeting your mouth with his own. “Such a good girl. So good.”

“You’re good,” you whisper, quiet and flushed.

You’re confused when he laughs to himself. “You think so, huh?” he mutters. 

“Yea. Mhm.” As he eases off of you, you sit up and reach for your jeans, still crumpled carelessly around your ankles.

“Whatever you say.”

You bend forward, trying to catch his gaze as he turns from you. As you’re trying, you see Gojo’s face in the corner of your eye, looking just suspicious enough to make you turn completely in his direction.

The blue eye closest to you winks shut. Half a second after you notice it staring.

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”