#everyone I want to direct your attention to the background

[moonstruckme]

hiiii mae if you’re up for it would you pretty please write spencer and intern reader when she gets hurt? holding her hand while she gets patched up or comforting her when she’s concussed or something of the like. i love your writing so much xoxoxo

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, concussion, vague mention of a murder case but it's really just background

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 946 words

“Look this way, please.” 

When you don’t move, Spencer gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “Hey. Can you look over there?” 

You turn your face from Spencer’s jacket, and the paramedic gives you a kind smile. She knows you weren’t ignoring her; you only hadn’t been paying attention. “Follow my finger,” she tells you. 

Spencer watches as you do, her pen light gliding over your bloody face. There are tear tracks diluting the red. 

Staying with witnesses is supposed to be a safe part of the job. That’s why Hotch assigned it to you. But when Morgan walked the handcuffed unsub through the station, one victim’s husband lost it completely, and when you got into his warpath he shoved you so hard Spencer heard your head knock against the precinct’s tile floor. Blood puddled around your left temple before anyone could even make it to you. 

You started crying nearly as soon as you woke up. It was more than understandable, given the blood all around you and the confusion you must have been feeling after a head injury like that, but what scared the team was when you wouldn’t stop. JJ tried talking to you, even Morgan softened his teasing and offered you a hug, but to everyone’s surprise all you wanted was Spencer. You calmed some once he sat down in front of you. Tears still dribbled from your chin, but you didn’t seem quite so distraught, and you let the paramedics look at you so long as Spencer stayed. Eventually he wound up in the back of an ambulance, an arm around your shoulders while you sniffled miserably into his windbreaker and a paramedic applied butterfly bandages to the cut on your head. 

Your eyes water as the paramedic clicks off her pen light and begins asking you questions. It takes a few moments for your gaze to settle on her. 

“It’s…it’s Wednesday.” You turn to Spencer. “Is it Wednesday?” 

His heart throbs at the vulnerability in your tone. “Focus on her,” he says, softening the directive with a stroke of his thumb over your shoulder. 

You turn back to the paramedic, answering her questions with varying degrees of uncertainty. Your fingers curl in the material of Spencer’s jacket. He has the urge to tuck your head underneath his chin. 

The paramedic informs you (or informs Spencer, really, you’re not paying much attention) that they’re going to take you to the hospital for a CT scan. They’ll let him ride there with you if he wants to. Spencer says yes without a thought. 

While she goes to pack up her supplies, he takes your fingers and unbunches them, warming your palm between his. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks you. 

You make a soft, stymied sound, bringing the unhurt side of your head to Spencer’s shoulder for a rest. “I don’t like this.” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask which part you mean. He imagines none of it is pleasant. The light and sound of an ambulance in general has to be torment for your head. 

“Try closing your eyes,” he suggests. 

“I’m worried that will make me dizzier.” 

“Do you feel sick?” 

“Not really.” 

“Just try. It helped last time.” 

You sigh but do. You turn your head so your forehead is pressing into the bump of his shoulder, and Spencer reaches up to stop you before you can get close to rubbing against the bandages keeping your cut closed. 

Your voice is a watery consistency. “I really don’t feel right.” 

Spencer feels a painful tug in his middle. “I know. I’m sure it’s scary, but it won’t be forever. We’re going to the hospital, and the doctors are going to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I just don’t like this.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Spencer?” 

“Hm?” 

“I really feel like I messed things up.” 

He has to remind himself not to move. In his surprise, his instinct is to pull back, to search your face for answers, but you’re pointed where he can’t see you with your voice trailing down his arm. 

“You didn’t. What makes you think that?” 

“It just…it feels like…” 

The words take a while to come. Spencer forces himself to set aside his curiosity. 

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to think about that right now. Just rest. You didn’t mess anything up.” 

“It feels like I’m…” you forge on, determined. “I’m always either not helping or in the way.” 

Again, Spencer’s first thought is to ask what you mean by that. But he doesn’t want to force you to overexercise your injured brain, so he tries to go along without elaboration. He fills in the gaps. 

“You’ve never been in the way,” he assures you, meaning it. “And you help us a lot. We wouldn’t be nearly as efficient without you, especially on this last case.” 

“I’m just an intern.” 

“Exactly. So it’s even more impressive how valuable you’ve been to our team.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments. Spencer starts rubbing slow circles into your shoulder with his thumb. Your forehead warms his arm through the jacket. 

“Thank you for staying with me. You’re always so nice.” 

“It’s no problem. I like hanging out with you.” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

“Are your eyes still closed?” 

A pause. “Were they supposed to be closed?” 

Spencer smiles at the top of your head. Even confused as you are, there’s a familiar note of inquisitiveness to your tone. Like all you ever really want is to be sure you’re doing the right thing. Spencer is warmed that you trust him to tell you what that is. 

“Try closing them.” 

“Oh. This is better, thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.”

[thephoenixcave]

“Uhh can I HELP you?”

“Yes you certainly can, my lady” ❤️

I'm gonna call this one "Edgar Wants Attention" haha

Find out what happens next in the sequel "Edgar Steals a Book" (link)

More comics ’n’ stuff here (link)

[chuluoyi]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.

[neos127]

park sunghoon x idol!fem!reader | stuck by the glue onto you

wc. 1.2k genre. strangers to lovers(??), pining + clingy hoon cw. none!! notes. idk what this is but this was todays daydream! so i had to write it into a fic (kinda messy bc it’s a brain dump but!)

you were laid out in your bed after a long day of practice, taking time to admire the view out your window while also scrolling through tiktok. you wanted to see if fans had watched your group’s new variety show with enhypen yet, knowing how excited both fandoms were after seeing the teaser.

when you scrolled onto a particularly interesting video, you sat up, your heart rate increasing as your eyes narrowed on the text.

‘sunghoon realizing that he’s in love with y/n’ was the caption in the middle of the screen along with ‘glue song’ playing in the background. you took a deep breath before allowing the video to play, already feeling butterflies invade your stomach.

CLIP #1

you were very nervous while being interviewed considering that your group had only recently debuted. it was your first week doing promotions and due to being a foreigner, you weren’t very confident with your korean yet.

as your shaky hands held the microphone close to your face, you began to stumble over your words. the dialogue on the script you were supposed to repeat suddenly blurring together. panic crossed your face for a split second, and mc sunghoon noticed that. he quickly mumbled the word you forgot into his microphone and you shot him a grateful smile before repeating and continuing with your small speech.

CLIP #2

you had remembered seeing this clip about a year ago, trying to brush it off even though the moment had never left your mind. apparently sunghoon couldn’t divert his gaze from you at an award show, his eyes practically sparkling as he observed you in your gorgeous dress. sunghoon rarely looked at any other female idols, so fans seemed to single out the moments when sunghoon’s attention was only directed onto you. when the two of you crossed paths, he smiled and politely bowed which caused you to do the same.

CLIP #3

your group was meeting enhypen for the variety show you had recently filmed with their group. everyone was shy and timid even though you had met each other many different times due to being under the same company. fans seemed to mostly focus on you and sunghoon though, who were very giggly and flustered. sunghoon’s ears turned a light pink as he shook your hand, his palms already sweaty due to the small encounter.

CLIP #4

sunghoon tried his best to be nonchalant about the fact that you had both been paired together for the field day activities, which was hard considering his long time crush on you. once the two of you started playing the games, you became more comfortable with each other. it seemed as if you two had been lifelong friends as you laughed and joked with each other.

the members teased him about being your shadow while completing missions, noticing how sunghoon never left your side even for a second.

CLIP #5

during your lunch break, sunghoon still seemed to follow you like a lost puppy. he timidly walked up to you, watching as you served yourself from the mini buffet the company set up.

“what are you eating?” he asked softly, causing to quickly look up at him with wide eyes. he scared you a bit, but the momentary surprise was soon replaced by comfort due to his presence.

“oh um…i was just combing some stuff. i came up with this really good combination, want to try it?” you asked, your tone becoming more light once you got over the initial shock of sunghoon being so close. sunghoon nodded his head in agreement, allowing you to take his plate and serve him.

when you had expected sunghoon to walk away and join the boys at a smaller round table to eat, he didn’t, keeping close as you looked around for an empty seat. since you concluded that sunghoon wanted to eat with you, you led him to a picnic table for two, smiling at the boy as he sat across from you.

the boys all gave him curious looks, the editors making small question marks appear above their heads as they observed you two. sunghoon didn’t seem to care— or maybe he simply didn’t notice, too focused on your pretty smile and the way your cheeks puffed up as you shoved rice into your mouth.

CLIP #6

while walking up a trail to find your next mission, you had nearly stepped into a deep mud puddle that would have definitely ruined your favorite pair of sneakers. sunghoon stopped you quickly, placing a strong arm in front of your torso to stop you from moving. you looked at up him with a raised brow before realizing that you had nearly stepped into the mess.

“ah, thank you.” you giggled nervously, feeling grateful that the gentleman next to you had been looking out for your safety. the boy mumbled a small ‘your welcome’ before grabbing onto your sweater and gently tugging you around the puddle. the action made your insides melt.

CLIP #7

when everyone had finished their respective missions and mini games, you were all called back to the picnic area where you had first started. sunghoon and a few other members were already there, waiting for the rest to arrive. the boy was about to sit down on the plush grass until he saw you and a couple of your group mates walk into the area. you sat down behind jay and a member of your group, causing sunghoon to look longingly at you. before he could even warn himself about being too obvious about his crush, he walked over and sat down next to you, a small smile on his face as your gazes met.

you looked at him for a second too long, causing you both to quickly look away in a flustered frenzy. you bit your lip to suppress a giggle, trying to focus on jungwon who was congratulating both groups for finishing the tasks.

CLIP #8

the clip was zoomed in, and you hadn’t even noticed that the camera had still been recording your actions. you and sunghoon walked away from the picnic area with the rest of your groups back to the car, playfully bumping shoulders as you trekked up a hill. it wasn’t much compared to the rest of the clips, but it was enough considering the compilation you had just watched.

you breathed out a shaky sigh before opening the comments, noticing how everyone cooed over the interactions and gushed over how sunghoon seemed to be enamored of you. people described how his eyes lit up whenever you smiled and how he had been attached to you like glue throughout the whole video.

you were a bit surprised that you hadn’t noticed how clingy sunghoon had been that day, only focusing on how you finally had time to get to know the boy more.

you smiled upon playing the video a second time, your finger hovering over the ‘share’ button before finally copying the link and sending it to sunghoon on a whim.

you waited all night for a response, barely being able to stomach down your dinner and constantly darting your eyes over to your phone that only seemed to light up from company emails and your group’s chat.

suddenly as you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a notification from sunghoon. you quickly grabbed the device, toothbrush dangling out of your mouth as you read over the text message multiple times. a squeal threatened to emerge from the back of your throat once you had finally had processed his words.

[sunghoon: ah, i guess they caught me…it’s been hard to take my eyes off such a pretty girl ~]

[bruhstories]

Bet V

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.4 here

mandatory mdni. you were not tagged in this because you are not over 18.

summary: in his attempt to break you, in-ho breaks himself pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, veeeery slow burn, reader’s dad is dead w/c: 2k

a/n: this is my half-assed attempt at writing a game lol. if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can’t find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

Neolttwigi had been another success. The seesaw game eliminated 91 people, and with 97 remaining players, In-ho proceeded with tuho. He paid close attention to the masked soldiers who directed the survivors to the same place where they had previously played Red Light, Green Light, only the floor was divided by a bright blue line in the middle. The ceiling was open, letting players experience natural light for a second time in a row.

The game was awfully simple —  throwing arrows into the neck of a jar. In-ho remembered reading about that game in school, how it was played by royal families and the upper class before becoming a game for everyone, and the jar had a narrow neck, making it easy to miss the mark. He had rarely played it as a child, preferring juldarigi or squid, games he taught his younger brother.

It became a habit for him to check the cameras in his penthouse whenever you were there. It brought him a strange peace of mind knowing that Eunjoo was safe in your hands, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop looking at the selfie you sent the day before. In-ho knew that walking into a lamppost was bullshit, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him the truth. He needed you to trust him, to tell him willingly. 

Still, he examined the picture —  your cheek in particular — and concluded that you lied to him. In-ho took it as a triumph. He didn't win the bet just yet, there was still time for you to mess up, but the fact that you chose to not tell the truth only solidified his belief that you were the same as everyone else. In four days he would return to Seoul and win. The prize? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps just the satisfaction that he was above you.

Players entered the field, and the voice in the speaker instructed them to split into teams of two in less than thirty minutes, which was unfair to player 002, since there was an odd number of people. 002 was taken away by a guard, and the remaining 96 players grouped into pairs. While the objective was indeed simple — throw the arrows in the jar — it came with a twist. It always did. Each player was given four arrows, but one of them was blindfolded and threw the arrows while their teammate picked the jar up and tried to catch the arrow in it. Once all four arrows were thrown, the teammates switched places. If at least six out of eight arrows hit the mark, both players passed, but if one player threw four arrows and the other only two, they both died. 

The game took out fewer people than In-ho had hoped — 19 to be precise. Player 002 was alive and well, and the remaining 77 survivors returned to their chamber, where more and more beds had been removed, exposing the remaining three games on the walls — Hide and Seek, Yutnori and Ssireum. He remembered his time as a player, how he was the only one who paid attention to his surroundings and anticipated the following games. In-ho used all of his skills and knowledge as a detective and emerged as the sole survivor and winner. Did it bring his wife back? No, but it did make him feel so good when proved he earned his right to live.

Players were receiving less and less food, and from the comfort and safety of the control room, In-ho watched them slowly lose all traces of their humanity. He wondered how you would've performed in the games. Participants would have abused your kindness, and your good intentions would've gotten you killed. To make it worse, he was certain you would've sacrificed yourself to save someone else, someone you deemed worthy of winning. But in his eyes, only you deserved to live.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and In-ho took it out to read the text from you. He knew it had to be you. Who else would text him at that time?

Hellooo, I took a look in the fridge and noticed the eggs and milk will go bad before you come back. I was wondering if I could give it to someone who needs it.

Damn it, you did it again. In-ho couldn't be sure that you actually gave the food to someone else — he had to take your word for it for now.

Of course. May I ask who you're giving it to?

Remember the family I told you about? The one I teach Korean to? The wife is pregnant and can't work. I think she's due to give birth soon, actually, and they could use all the help. Besides, it would be a shame to throw away perfectly good food :)

Don't you want it, miss? When we first met, you told me you didn't have a good financial situation.

Oh, no, no. I'll be fine. They need it more.

Very well, please give it to them.

Ah, I also remembered you left some money on your nightstand. With all due respect, Mr. Hwang, that's very irresponsible. Anyone could take it.

Were you lecturing him? Him? Cute. In-ho even chuckled at your reprimand, finding it adorably amusing. If only you knew the things he did, the people he killed. How would you react? That question was beginning to take over his mind like a maggot wriggling inside of his brain. Would you be disgusted? Would you go to the police? Would you agree with his ways of cleaning the world of its impurities? It was no different than how you cleaned his penthouse — you both got rid of trash.

You're right, miss. There is a safe hidden in my wardrobe. Please put the money there. The code is 1321.

Surely you would crack at the sight of so much money and try to take some. No one sane would miss such an opportunity. But then again, maybe you weren't sane. Maybe you just needed a little push, a little encouragement. In-ho poured himself a glass of whisky and thought about the wound on your cheek, and the night you were crying on his kitchen floor. Someone had hurt you, and he needed to find out who so he could exploit that. And then, you would break. 

He was, however, slightly conflicted, because he didn’t want to ruin you. In-ho merely wanted to make you see things eye to eye. Just like him, life had been unfair to you. And just like him, you needed to survive. Kindness wouldn't take you very far — you had to witness the cruelty of the world somehow, and the only possible way to do that was to play the game and survive it, something In-ho knew you would never do due to your values and morals. And he couldn't wait one more year to push you past your limits. He needed to think of something else, and he needed to do it fast — time was ticking and you were a project he refused to let slip through his fingers.

In-ho checked the cameras at the time you normally arrived at the penthouse, patiently waiting for you. He was pleased to see that you were in a better mood, cheerfully greeting Eunjoo as you went about with your tasks, but something was different. You appeared to be texting someone, and he never received any notifications on his phone, yet you were quite busy chatting back and forth. His stomach churned, an amalgamation of feelings bubbling and boiling in his core. Anxiety? Anger? Jealousy? 

Jealousy.

You always sent him a text upon your arrival. You always let him know that you were there, so who occupied your mind if not him? The sudden lack of the very little control he had over you made him trip in his room and lose balance, and he forcefully ripped the mask off and tossed it on the floor. 

In-ho was losing the bet he made with himself, and not in the way he had imagined.

It wasn't him who lived in your mind, but you who invaded his, and it infuriated him, because after his wife died, he refused to get attached, refused to fall in love. Luckily for him, it wasn't love that he felt for you, but an unhealthy obsession to watch you, to know your every move, to find out who hurt you and make you hurt them back. 

You performed your tasks with utmost perfection, and placed the money in his safe while ignoring the riches inside it, but you were distracted, constantly looking at your phone and half-smiling whenever it lit up. In-ho couldn't have that. 

How's Eunjoo?

Since you were so busy talking to someone, he expected you to frown at his text, to scoff and ignore it. But you did worse. You stopped folding his clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, beaming at the message on the screen.

She's alright! We had dinner and a cuddle, and now she's playing next to me. I'll send you a picture!

In-ho watched you struggle to take a photo of the cat — each time you took out your phone, Eunjoo stopped playing, so you swapped to the front camera, trying to sneak a picture. You even smoothed your hair and made yourself look presentable, and he found it quite adorable that you tried to look presentable for him.

I'm sorry you have to see my face, but she wouldn't sit still for a photo!

You were stunning. It was all In-ho could think about when he opened the photo. Your bright eyes were like a drug to him, instantly hooking him, forcing him to regain a shred of humanity.

Don't apologise, miss. You're beautiful.

There it was, the crack he so desperately sought for. You were practically hyperventilating in his bedroom, struggling to breathe, constantly rereading the words on your phone. And then he heard you talk to Eunjoo, heard you question your own sanity. But no, In-ho didn't like you. He was simply interested in breaking you, oblivious to how you were breaking him.

"Damn it. I promised Donghyun I'd go for a coffee after work tomorrow. I'm so confused now." Your distorted voice crackled through his speaker, and In-ho clenched his jaw, barely stopping himself from breaking his phone.

Who the fuck was Donghyun? And more importantly, why did he care? 

He didn't care, or at least that was what he told himself for the past few days. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about you. He didn't-

The familiar words of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon stopped him dead in his tracks. In-ho turned the volume up, still in disbelief that you knew the song, that you sung it in his bedroom like no one was watching you. It was impossible how similar you were to him, to how he was before life took a turn. But a song and a kind heart weren't enough to change him. It was far too late for that. The only possible outcome was for you to become like him, and he wouldn't accept anything else.

For the first time, In-ho didn't offer you privacy when you stepped into his bathroom. For the first time, he watched as you peeled off each layer of clothing, and for the first time, he saw every scar and scratch, every burn and bruise on your body, new and old, and he understood. You had already faced the realities of this cruel world, and you chose not to become vengeful. Your father died, your uncle abused you, and yet, you shined.

The unforeseen urge to protect you seeped through his veins, but not before you got your revenge. You deserved to get revenge more than anyone in the world. And if you didn't want that, he'd make you want it one way or another.

"Fuck." In-ho whispered when his cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of your bare body. So vulnerable. So weak. So perfect. 

He sat down, phone in one hand and his eyes only on you. It was pure instinct when he fisted his cock, pure instinct when your name spilled from his lips, pure instinct when he imagined you under him, wriggling and writhing, pure instinct when he came on his fingers, disgusted with himself.

Pure instinct. Nothing more.

tagging: @ri1liane  @anmert1  @syraxnyra  @frshluvcats  @lanyia  @mettreads  @nightdark-dreamdark  @bridge-always  @lovekm  @audrey223  @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry  @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf��@nellabear  @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesblog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @warlabels @xcinnamonmalfoyx @rickgrimesismydaddy1 @jasonpetertoddismygod @marihoneywk @llghtsnoww @torkorpse @salivasupplier @okqur @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @certifiedlevisimp @kiss-themoongoodbye @bluehourss @alexa554 @sinful-tawtute @ithoughtthinks @nacatna-blog @riri53 @alexisabirdie @houta-habtet-houta

[lovingjingyuan]

I wonder: How would hsr boys react to someone trying to take pics up ur skirt? This is an unhinged thought that I’ve thought to long, please cure this weird thinking.

Characters: Avneturine, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, Boothill

Aventurine

When Aventurine caught sight of a creepy man attempting to take inappropriate photos under your skirt while you were dress shopping for clothes, he was appalled and disgusted. 

“Check this green dress out. It’s like the color of an aventurine. I think it would look dashing on you” He threw in a little wink with his words, while deliberately trying to divert your attention away from the unsettling situation. 

With a reassuring smile he added, “this one's on me, spend freely.” He presented you with the beautiful dress on a hanger, while planning on taking you to the evening ball hosted by the IPC for the executives. 

Oh but he makes sure in the background he discreetly makes sure to contact someone from the IPC technology department to delete every piece of data, wiping everything off that creepy man’s phone. He also arranged a few of his IPC bodyguards, instructing them to follow that man so he can deal with him ‘personally’ later.

Jing Yuan

(Husband♡) Jing Yuan is a gentleman. He doesn’t want to concern you with these, wanting to save you the embarrassment and tainting your mind of peace. What truly astonishes him is the fact one of his very own staff members working at the Seat of Divine Foresight is involved in such despicable behavior. Towards his lover too!

“Ahem ahem,” he clears her throat, catching your attention. “Love, could you spare a moment and help me sort out these files?”

As you approach him he slickly wraps an arm around your waist pulling you into his embrace. He just can’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in such a vulnerable way. Anyone that’s not him :( he loves his darling too much for anyone to be ogling at you. 

Without any sort of explanation he sat you down on his chair and covered your lap in a blanket. You’re confused and puzzled by his random action but he’s fuming in anger under his facade smile. 

He’s determined to address this issue in the most “legal” way possible. If he could.

Bladie!!!

He would either glare intensely at the point to the point the creepy man would delete the picture out of sheer intimidation. Orrrrr, Blade might just go over and greet them with his sword. As simple as that 🤷‍♀️

His glare alone is a death sentence, especially when he’s protecting his beloved. He loves you very much; just has a hard time expressing it!

Sunday

How could anyone commit such sinful and absurd acts, escapilly towards his beloved! He frowns upon any lewd or disrespectful behavior. Sunday would be absolutely speechless and consumed by fuming rage and disgust, staring at your offender. 

Regaining his composer, he approaches you with a mask smile hiding the intense emotions he felt, “Just a moment,” he says, glancing at you. “We mustn’t  be late for our outing my dear,” He extends one hand out for your hand. Despite his calm demeanor, his other hand clenched tightly behind his back. 

He averts his gaze directed towards the man behind you. “Please report to the BloodHound they will like to meet with you,” he says, his voice with strained restraints. 

Sunday hurriedly leads you away. Although Sunday may be a forgiving priest he had limits which that man crossed. He;s immensely disappointed that something like this would occur in Penacony’s dreamscape where everyone is supposed to be and feel relaxed in the hands of The Family. And he’s more upset it occurred to his beloved. 

Boothill

he will confront and make a scene cause you're his darling.

Boothill wants to spit out the most profound language but his system won't let him. seeing a man taking pictures of his darling? Fudge no! unacceptable!

"Muddle Fuger, what are you doing?" he tries cussing out the creepy man startling the man with their phone under your skirt.

"Son of a nice lady! What the heck are you doing to my girl?!" He makes a big scene, causing the man to panic because everyone turns their attention to this scene.

he's ready to whip out his revolver and protect his darling. Maybe after this he would take off his hat and put it behind your bum to cover you up as you two walk back from the embarrassing situation.

------------------

I finally finished exams! blah blah blah. I'm bored af summer and I've been play wuwa! I love PGR Roland so I played cause it's from Kuro games. And omg Geshu Lin!!! He looks like Jing Yuan thats why I like him.

Avneturine Rant: Also I can't help this but I'm becoming obssed with Avneturine. I showed my friend an edit of him. she said he's so fine cause she like white blonde men. I'm starting to fall so inlove with him now! Same level of love with Jing Yuan. I can't Aveneturine is too charming. Didn't like him much at first but god his backstory and that mini anaimation how could I be so Blind! Same situtaion with Jing Yuan.

Also gonna update now

[klausysworld]

Hi could you write some angst about a deeply insecure reader who hates her appearance and is sort of friends with Elena and everyone(pushed to the side kind of relationship)but when klaus comes around it’s clear that she has a crush but believes he’s out of her league then klaus uses it to his advantage by showing an interest in her for information and helps her with her self worth.klaus then starts to develop feelings for her but then it’s revealed that he was just manipulating her and reader is devastated and utterly humiliated and it sets her back to how she was before him.(sorry if that was a really long explanation,you can decide the ending)thanks I love your writing btw

Real

Growing up in Mystic Falls is a bizarre experience.

There were town events almost every month where you had to dress up and act better than everyone, parents basically had a competition over who had the prettiest daughters or the most handsome sons.

Not my parents.

They didn't think I was good enough to even pretend that I could compete. I was told my worth from a young age and became more aware of it with time. When your own parents don't think you're good enough it's sort of an eye-opener if you will.

It didn't help that everyone in this town seemed to be born into modelling.

Somehow I was lucky enough to wind up 'friends' with people like Elena, Caroline and Bonnie but I knew I didn't belong with them. Somehow they were gorgeous enough to get whatever they wanted.

Sometimes I wondered if everyone else at the age of 17 looked like them and I was behind or if somewhere, I was above average. I doubted it. A lot.

Occasionally I would look at a mirror and think that I wasn't even that bad to look at. There was nothing particularly ugly about me, there just wasn't anything special. I looked plain in a way, bland and forgettable.

I was very forgettable actually. My 'friends' made that abundantly clear throughout the years when they would go out without me or forget to ask if I also wanted something or liked something.

Somehow I was of no value to them. Perhaps I was simply there to amplify their beauty. Like a DUFF. I was definitely the DUFF.

Damon actually told me that I was once, after Tyler had made the joke and Damon asked what it meant. Even though I already knew it to be true, to be told it was much worse.

You could sort of tell everyone else was thinking it, especially when I was stood beside Caroline.

Stefan was the only one who was nice but I wasn't sure if it was out of pity or just because that was who he was. Then again, I'd rather just not know.

So I tried my best to keep in the background, avoid attention and stay out the way.

Even with all the vampire and werewolf drama that took course, I kept myself quiet and to the side. Strangely it was Katherine who was kind to me, whether she had an ulterior motif I'm not so sure anymore but she never hurt me in the time she was there. Neither did Elijah when he came to town, he was polite to everyone but it was obvious that my presence was irrelevant to him.

And then of course, Klaus arrived.

I didn't officially meet him until the senior prank night, he sort of just threw to the side and told me to keep my mouth closed and not to bother running because he'd just kill me. Part of me thought about running anyway so he would just end it but I didn't.

Klaus dragged me by my wrist into his car, told me to keep quiet while he drove Elena to the hospital. For whatever reason he brought me along and left me in the car as he went to drain her of blood for his hybrids. I did as told: sat silently and waited.

He came back out and spoke to Damon for a moment, I saw them glance over in my direction only for Damon to laugh and smirk. I sighed to myself and got out the car. It was clear that Klaus thought I could be a good pawn but was surly mistaken and Damon told him to do whatever he wanted to me. In response I walked home, neither noticed so it was fine.

A week or so later he came back, crashed homecoming or something? I dunno, I wasn't there but I was told about it the next day via a stroppy Caroline.

It was that same day that he came and sat beside me at the grill. I ignored him for the most part, confused by his attempt at what I could only guess was flirting? I wasn't really sure. I think he could tell.

"Not easily impressed are you love?" he questioned as he leant forward, uncomfortably close. I sort of just looked at him, still unsure to what he wanted. A smirk pulled at the end of his lips and his hand lifted, his fingers wrapping around a piece of my hair making frown and pull away abruptly. Without hesitation I stood up and spun on my heel, going to leave. His laugh followed me and a hand grabbed my waits, it was stange.

"Calm down love, It's not like I was going to rip it out, I just wondered what it felt like" he chuckled, pulling my back flush against his front making me tense and squirm.

"It feels like hair" I stated simply "Now get off" I grunted, shoving my elbow into his side to make him let go. I kept walking, keeping my eyes on the ground.

The next time I saw him he apologised for the previous encounter which again, i didn't understand but there was no point in questioning and arguing so I just accepted it and tried to leave but he asked if I'd stay for one drink, he asked so nicely and he smiled. I was stupid enough to think it was genuine and accepted.

Looking back it was pretty obvious that this was a game for him or a trap, whatever you want to label it but in the moment I ignored what was right in my face. Deep down I knew it was all a joke of sorts really.

But no boy, let alone a man had shown me this sort of attention and the soft fluttering it made me feel had me staying for far too long. I listened to his little stories and asked a range of questions as the drinks kept coming. He asked a couple about me but i gave relatively vague answers. There wasn't much I had to give him on me, I wasn't up for a pity party about friends and I didn't really fancy talking about my shitty parents either. I think Klaus picked up on the fact that I didn't really want to talk about me and eventually gave up with it.

It was late when I realised I needed to get home and he offered to take me which I admit made me wary. I didn't want him to kidnap me and think I'd be any good as leverage again, though I guess Damon made that pretty clear already. I decided to just walk home which he eventually accepted and got into his car.

Walking by myself probably wasn't my best option after drinking so much in one go but I made it home with minimal stumbling. My mother shook her head when she saw me and asked what was wrong with me. When she realised I had been drinking her mind jumped to two very different conclusions. The first being that I was being a slut which was ironic as in the past she'd made it clear that no guy would want to sleep with me, and the second being that I had taken pills to kill myself.

Listening to her drastic thinking made me wonder what kind of pills she was on but I didn't question it and waited for my father to come and take her to bed, telling her to just ignore me. Then I proceeded to make my way to the bathroom, getting changed and washing my face before going to my bed.

My phone dinged making me sigh, thinking it was Elena asking me to help her with something dumb and life threatening however much to my surprise it was Klaus. A smile involuntarily spread across my face and we messaged back and forth before he told me to rest.

The following few days he would just check in. Not too much but he also made it clear that he hadn't forgotten me which was all I had ever truly wanted from someone. To be acknowledged at the very least.

Of course I didn't tell the others that he had been talking to me, besides they didn't ask so I didn't see why I should. I guess I just wanted something for myself.

I wasn't completely stupid. I always had the feeling that he was using me, especially towards the start...but he was just so wonderful with his words and his ways.

When he began to make and buy sweet gifts and claim they were tokens of his affection, I couldn't help the blush on my face. When he would find a way to have his skin against mine, or how he would pick up my hand and gently tug my along. Somehow we always seemed to end up somewhere for food, and he would always refuse to let me pay.

Something about him was so enticing, addictive if you will.

He began to make me feel a certain way. He made me warm and happy. His touch was so soft, it made me feel like I was buzzing. i was stupid for thinking he could feel the same way about me.

I had been so scared to admit my feelings.

He had assured me that he would never push me to.

He told me that he liked me, that he didn't want me to be frightened of him or nervous around him. "Not unless it's the sort of nervous that puts butterflies in your stomach sweetheart" he had teased and my cheeks had glowed red.

Over the space of months his presence never lessoned. He always made time to see me, and speak with me. I found myself longing for his voice, his touch.

On days where he was too busy at home, he would urge me to come over. I would spend as long as I possibly could with him, a few times I even stayed over but he had slept on top of the duvet so that I would feel comfortable.

This had gone on for a small while until he actually said the words 'I love you'.

Perhaps I was just so happy to actually hear those words. Maybe I believed them to be true, real. Or I just saw what I wanted to see, heard what I wanted to hear and ignored the rest.

The time I gave myself to him used to make my smile and blush. Now it just makes me feel dirty, humiliated and embarrassed.

Knowing that he could and has had his hands all over my body, his lips and eyes. In the moment I felt like a goddess, probably because that’s what he told me I was. The memory of him inside me haunts me. I had thought it to be such a beautiful experience, romantic and personal.

I wish I could say that I had slept with him only once but as the months went by we would share intimacy often.

I had even told him that I loved him, so many times and I meant it for all of them.

So you should understand why it was so hard to accidentally hear him tell his sister that he had been compelling me for any information on the others.

It had felt as though my heart had stopped when the words hit my ears and tears already made my eyes burn. I heard a weak laugh and turned my head to see Damon, strung up by chains whilst bleeding all over, looking straight back at me.

“Y/n…” I heard Klaus’s voice, his tone one of panic or maybe it was just surprise. He probably didn’t want me to know of his routine. Damon only rolled his eyes and gave me look,

“You didn’t…think it was real, right?” He coughed, a cruel smile on his face.

His words just made me quieter. They made me think. Why did I think it was real?

My eyes slowly lifted to meet Klaus’s. I could see and feel Rebekah looking at me, everyone was silent. Even Damon shut up for a second. I think maybe he was expecting me to say something but I didn’t really have anything to tell him.

As awful as it all made me feel, and even with the amount of emotions swallowing me, I felt more disappointed in myself than I did him.

My right hand went to my left arm, pinching my skin through my jumper in some sort of hope that I’d wake up from some stupid nightmare but it didn’t work.

The first tear fell from my eye and I sniffed to keep the other ones from coming.

Klaus just looked at me, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I didn’t want to know either. I could just guess anyway.

So without a word I just turned around and left, walking quickly back out the door before breaking into a sprint in the direction of my house. I could feel the mascara running down my face, ruining the foundation I had only recently started wearing, for Klaus’s benefit.

My hands wiped at the tears as I pushed my from door shut behind me and went upstairs, blocking out the annoyed voices of my parents and locking myself in my room.

It was only once I was in the shower that I was flooded with memories. That I remembered all the things I had done with him. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom my skin was scrubbed raw in an attempt to wash his touch away. Even the slightest touch made me feel as though my body was burning, stinging with pain but I would have rather felt that every day than have to realise Klaus had been using me for over a year now.

I was curled in my bed, hidden under the blankets and surrounded by the dark as I let every comment not matter how small or petty play back through my mind.

I wasn’t even sure who to be upset with. I chose myself.

Klaus must’ve known I was an easy target. Desperate. I wonder how much he’s had me tell him. To be fair I knew more than you’d expect about what was going on. I had gotten good at observing and overhearing so I still knew what was going on, even when spending so much time with Klaus himself.

I also wondered what else he had compelled me to do. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything other than ask questions but I couldn’t help that fear creep inside me. It made me sick to my stomach, and then I wondered if he would just wait to compel me again so that I could continue to be his information feeder.

The idea made my fingers dig into my arm, bruising the skin purple but I wouldn’t stop. I only did so that I could go get some vervain that I kept downstairs in one of the cupboards at the back. I was reaching for the little glass bottle when I heard a door close. I spun around quickly to see Klaus in the doorway of my kitchen. My hand clutched onto the vervain tightly and I noticed his eyes glance at it briefly. His hands went up as if to show no harm but there was no way I would believe that meant a thing.

“Sweetheart- listen to me..” he began and I let out a breathless laugh

“Get out” I whispered making him sigh and frown as though he had the audacity to be upset or annoyed.

“Y/n..”

“No Klaus. I’m fucking serious, get out.” I told him, my eyes watering again. I let out an involuntary whimper when he stepped forward making him stop and stand still.

“I never meant for you to know that” he whispered and I frowned, swiping a tear away.

“Sorry I ruined your plan” I mumble, exhausted.

“No- no I didn’t mean it like that- I meant that-“

“Klaus it’s fine” I murmur, avoiding his eye, “It’s fine, I get it. You needed to know what was happening, you got to be two steps ahead. I’d appreciate if you just found someone else now please”

I could feel his stare on me, it make my skin itch and I just needed him to go. I could feel my hand getting clammy as I held onto the bottle.

“I haven’t compelled you in such a long time” he muttered, as though maybe that made it better. “I used to, but I truly have fallen for you Y/n. I love-“

“Please get out” I cut him off, my spare hand resting on my forehead to cover my eyes.

“I love you”

“No you don’t” I cry, “you wouldn’t do this to someone you love. I know you don’t love me. You never have and you never could. You’re just pretending again so I’ll let you control me, I don’t like it” I whimper, tears streaming again. I could hear him getting closer but I was already against the counter and I couldn’t out run him. There was no point in trying.

“Sweetheart, I’ll never use you again-“ he tried to argue but I couldn’t listen to it.

“I really, really need you to leave. Please Klaus just get out, I can’t stand you” I tell him honestly and for a second as I look up at him, he looks almost sad but I have to assume it’s still apart of his act.

“You- you’re not going to do anything…anything harmful are you? To yourself, I mean.” He asked and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I should never have told him that I’d had those thoughts or feelings once. I shouldn’t have ever said a word to him.

“No…now go away” I whisper, my hands trembling as I stared at the ground, listening to his footsteps eventually get further away.

I knew there was no way I could sleep, he was probably still outside my house. Waiting.

I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for but I could him there.

I had no idea what I was going to do.

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[sahisan]

— curiousity killed the cat.

featuring . pm!dazai osamu.

tags . suggestive, so slight nsfw. civilian!gn!reader. dazai's a bit sick. just pmzai things yk (he's scary). weapons described (he has a gun). blood mentioned. gunplay mentioned (brief suggestive description). wc 1.8k.

author note . this is so random i don't even know if the paragraphs do well together bc i just poured my most random thoughts into it and i was sleepy and barely managed to proofread it. yep. i imagined mostly 20-22!pmzai here. continuation kinda here.

dazai hid many things. he hid them well; years of being on constant standby, awaiting, on guard about anything enemy or not related. he hid in the shadows no matter day or night, but the shadows didn't always necessarily mean him only scrambling around in narrow alleyways or in the safety of the headquarters—in reality, he spent little time in the latter, nor did he 'lurk in the shadows' often, unless on a mission.

he hid everything from everyone, including you; of course including you. and the thing that bothered him the most was you finding out about what he does. did. has done. keeps on doing every day. not only does he not want the port mafia's countless enemies to know about you, but dazai also dreads the thought of you getting even a little bit closer to the truth of what he does for a living. he thinks of how he might slip one day and just reveal his true nature, intentionally or not, and either let you be disgusted and scared or kill you immediately because you might report to the police; it bothers him in both ways.

dazai avoids the area of your home when out at work. he makes sure to put on some casual clothes before visiting your place. when things are bad, work routine and you colliding together closer to night, he makes sure to hold a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his inner pocket to quickly wash away the stains of blood from his clothes. he keeps a bit of cologne there as well, to hide the stench of blood he usually reeks of during the day—he doesn't even use cologne daily. if you need him right after work, he disposes of his weapons, giving them away to the underlings that follow his word.

everything is always under control.

like tonight. he'd had a "kill and dispose" assignment, after which he'd had to go to yours and spoil you with a movie night he promised you. ah, the long-awaited respite from everyday bloodshed.

yet he was still on guard; he always has been, but today was busy and rough and all he needed was your embrace and a movie as a background noise while he showered you with kisses and cuddled you with neverending hugs.

and dazai forgot.

already at your doorstep, already having ringed the bell by your front door when dazai looked down at himself and—

fuck.

there was a small but clear blood stain right next to his tie. ah. how great. he definitely won't have time to remove it, but he might try to win some time to divert your attention from it if you notice—and you will, if he doesn't do anything about it.

with the door opening, dazai threw himself at you, literally waltzing into your apartment, hip to hip, your left hand in his right and his left hand at your waist, he led you through the corridor in an almost hasty improvisation of a dance, causing his tie to sway just in the right direction and have you giving him a look that screamed "you and your antics again?". good.

"ah, you look especially divine tonight," he mused, nuzzling your neck and making you place your chin on his shoulder; very good, the stain was out of your sight at least for now, and he couldn't be happier about that. "i haven't had dinner yet but i already know what i want for dessert."

distract. distract and avert and keep away—best tactic of dazai's that rarely failed, and he was used to putting it to use everywhere he could, including you. you could be perceptive or gullible, didn't matter—it worked wonders on anyone and will continue working for as long as he wanted to.

dazai swayed you around a few more times, dancing his way into your living room while humming a nauseatingly sweet, random tune he made up in his head a second ago. hip against yours again, he let a content smirk wash over his lips.

a clank. soft, quiet sound of metal clanking once echoed through the room, and it was almost eerie silence aside from his barely audible humming just as his hipbone met yours.

that didn't sound good, considering the only thing on his hip was—

ah. dazai forgot two things tonight.

in reverie about cursing himself head to toe in his mind, he lost the sensation of your touch until it felt too suspicious and he was too late, you reaching for the side hem of his coat and tugging it away from his side to reveal it to the light. you were always so curious, and he couldn't tell whether it was bad or good for him in general.

the soft clink echoed once more as your fingers grazed the object, and his eyes narrowed. the gun. shit. in his distracted state, he'd forgotten to dispose of it along with wiping away the blood.

dazai's hand shot out from beneath the coat, and he knew he wasn't doing himself a favor by raising his hand to grab yours, only revealing the holster further, but he didn't necessarily give a shit right now. he ought to do more than care about the gun right now, like a proper boyfriend, first being calming you down and assuring you it's not loaded and isn't as scary as it looks and that you shouldn't be afraid and the second being change of course of the conversation so seamlessly that you forget about the weapon for the rest of the night at least (unfortunately, the last sentence never crossed his mind).

but when did dazai ever go according to an adequate plan?

his hand held yours in the air, palm gliding up and down your inner forearm, trying to, first, soothe every negative emotion that might come up on the surface of your face, as well as keeping your curious hand away.

"ah-ah-ah, how naughty," dazai purred, voice dripping with false sweetness even as his eyes glinted with dangerous amusement; what he was supposed to be doing absolutely slipped from his thoughts the second he sensed the quickening of your heartbeat and breath and the cautious halting and tensing of your body against his, and he was already getting hard just from this. sick. "what did i tell you about wandering hands, hmm?"

he ground his hips against yours once after that, letting you feel the growing hardness in his pants. distraction. that was the key. keep you focused on his body, on the pleasure he could give you, and you'd forget all about that pesky gun in no time.

“careful there, baby. wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself,” he said with a twisted, growing grin. his other hand, previously holding your left one, slid away from it to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your jawline in a mockery of tenderness, visible eye looking down at your mouth.

"i'd hate to see those pretty lips marred by blood."

and yet, once he'd lifted his eyes up to yours, dazai could feel you tense under his touch, heart racing beneath your skin. he knew that look in your eyes, that widening of your pupils; he was all too familiar with it. fear. he had been so focused on the thrilling, twisted satisfaction the situation brought him momentarily, that he hadn't noticed how his actions were affecting you. his grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your inner wrist.

dazai sighed, deciding it was time to stop scaring you with both his demeanor and the weapon, even if it wasn't what he wanted right now at all; he had a switch to pull off, an appearance to keep up in front of you. ah, but how he'd love to prolong that moment for just a little longer: your fear palpable in the air, that scared glance you cast at him once, the trembling of your hands, hitch in your breathing and increase of your heartbeat.

maybe later.

"easy, easy," he murmured, voice low and soothing even as his mind raced. he tapped the holster twice. "it's not loaded, see?" a lie. "just a little souvenir," a lie. the gun was always loaded, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice, but you surely didn't need to know that. he'd already subjected you to more horror than a civilian would need to witness.

dazai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "you know i'd never be involved with these types of things and would never hurt you, right?" honey-sweet, dripping with false sincerity words. what he was absolutely best at was lying and manipulating, and he couldn't even control it anymore; if he needed you to believe, he will make you believe, one way or another.

"but you also shouldn't go poking around where you don't belong," he purred lowly with an audible dangerous lilt to his tone, lips now moving lower and ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "who knows what kind of trouble you might find yourself in. curiosity killed the cat, you know. you never know when you'll be the cat. and I'm not sure i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dazai could try to keep you away from his sicko tendencies and mind and thoughts that were all over the place and mingled together; the thoughts of protecting you from all of this meeting the ones of putting that gun to better use that just shooting people. and right now, he was barely holding it all in.

think of it this way: the thoughts of keeping his precious favourite civilian away from the corrupted knowledge and pain and feeling you tremble in fear underneath him, with the barrel of his gun tracing over your bare skin and getting dangerously close to where you'd need him most? oh, did the latter make dazai's stomach contort with desire and hips buckle up into yours. he would have to think more clearly about this later when his head wasn't a wreck of everything at once, but now...

"you want to play with something hard, baby?" dazai murmured in the end, all sultry and beaming with desire. "i'll give you something much better than a piece of metal to wrap your pretty fingers around."

dazai was sick and his mind twisted and he didn't get how he could ever keep someone like you by his side, but he supposed it was fate; and for as long as fate was merciful to him, he would make good use of it.

"but behave, hmm?"

[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part two.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader Fandom: attack on titan (modern au) Word Count: 3.5k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @/saradika-graphics / gif by pankago

part one. / part three. | masterlist

There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours—

A noisy bar quickly becomes background white noise.

—if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.

And within a breath, the world ceases to exist.

You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say, but it sure as hell isn’t that.

(He gets paid to be a smooth talker, but holy shit, it is catastrophically different when you’re saddled with the reality that you can walk — run — straight to the man inviting you to his home.)

Before you can even think, your voice blurts out of your parted lips:

“I don’t mind.”

Not.

At.

All.

Annie will forgive you.

Hell, you bet everyone crowding that tiny high-top table will forgive you come Monday morning when you’re back in the office.

Half of them won’t even remember that you were there in the first place. It’s a win-win situation.

There is no hesitation in the way you pick up your purse from the countertop and rush towards the front entrance of the bar, your eyes zeroed in on a patient Levi.

It takes some serpentining, but eventually you burst through the doors.

Levi turns towards you, his cell phone still held to his ear. 

There’s a little pink in his cheeks — from the nipping bite of the cold evening weather or his quick-witted pick-up line, you aren’t sure.

“Sorry,” you exhale like you’ve run a marathon in such a short distance. “I should’ve said bye or something before running out here, but I figured—”

The fringe of his hair shakes in his eyes as he holds up a finger to his lips.

Silence.

A stern expression replaces the debonair, and for a moment, you wonder if something is wrong.

But then—

“Yeah, no, I’m calling out for the evening,” he states. “Will you relay, Petra?”

Petra.

You know that woman’s name.

(The hotline receptionist responsible for connecting you to him.)

“Not an emergency, no,” he reassures, brows briefly knitting together. “Just taking some time off.” A pause. “Why are you laughing?” Another pause. “Forward them to Erwin. I trust him not to run my damn clients off. Thanks.”

Oh.

He’s—

“Sorry about that.”

Pocketing his phone, he squares his shoulders and waits expectantly. 

A suspicious crawl of embarrassment runs through your veins, like somehow being spontaneous — selfish — inconvenienced him.

“You had a shift tonight?” you ask belatedly.

“I did,” Levi admits, that buttery-smooth voice curving with a lift of amusement. “And now I don’t.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to mess up your—”

“I have over a hundred hours of time accrued,” he interrupts in the very tone he’s used in your sessions before when you chalk up your existence as being a nuisance to him: stop. “If anything, it’ll get them off of my ass for never using it.”

Your brows raise. “A hundred?”

“Over,” Levi corrects, “so you’re doing me a favor — if you’re still in the mood for tea, of course.”

There’s a pause. A taxi flies by to fill the anticipating void.

I’m well past the mood for tea — is what you would say if you were a psychopath.

Instead you clamp your mouth shut and nod. 

Levi nods with you, seemingly exhaling a breath he may have been holding. As he steps forward, one foot in front of the other.

His attention drops from your face, searching your form in a way that makes you feel exposed.

Wanted.

Then he clears his throat and raises a stiff elbow — a polite gesture.

Take it.

The sheer idea of touching him is so fucking daunting.

Until now, you haven’t done anything but fantasize about him, but he’s flesh and blood and right in front of you — if you’re willing to simply take.

So you do.

Slowly you glide your hand over the crease of his elbow, tucking it against his side until your bodies are looped. The sheer cut of his bicep in his 90-degree angle threatens to make you lose your composure.

Jesus, it’s so solid.

(It’ll be a miracle if you even make it back to his apartment in one piece, let alone your own after everything is said and done.)

He walks. You follow until you match his pace.

For most of the journey, the two of you step in silent tandem. 

While he stares ahead, stopping you both whenever you reach a crosswalk, you can’t help but look over his profile. His cheekbones are even higher than you imagined, chiseled from the Gods, with dark hair that fades in an undercut at the nape of his neck.

Levi is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life, and you live in a pretty damn busy city, so you’ve seen a lot of men.

“Stairs or elevator?” he asks once he breaks the rhythm of your feet to move two paces ahead, grabbing the door with his fist. He detaches from you to pull open the door, offering you to walk through first. 

You’re so giddy over the chivalry you nearly miss the question. 

“Wait, what?”

“Stairs.” He nods his head, the stark black fringe waving with it. “Or elevator.”

“You live on the sixteenth floor.” 

“Yeah.”

“Wait — Levi, do you walk the fucking stairs?”

Levi blinks like he has to remember that isn’t normal before clearing his throat.

“Sometimes.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t want to get complacent after losing my job at the gym,” he states, changing his trajectory as he heads for the elevator instead.

You’re grateful that, for once, you’re not trying to act brave — or stupid.

Your big mouth doesn’t try to say that sixteen flights of stairs is totally fine just to impress him.

(This man has already heard what you sound like when you orgasm on more than one occasion. In some twisted way, the two of you are way past the surface stages of courting, but it doesn’t make this any less daunting.)

Once more he tracks ahead to hold the elevator door for you. Waiting until you’re comfortably inside, he presses the grayed ‘16’ button on the panel. It illuminates in an outdated hazy yellow — forcing your attention to the grayed ‘10’ just below it.

Six fucking floors, all this time.

Once the doors close, Levi Ackerman leans his back against the metal wall, his arms crossed and forearms barred from his rolled-up sleeves. 

You stay put in the dead center of the lift, watching him stare at the elevator panel until he lifts his chin to look back at you.

Neither of you look away.

The prolonged eye contact feels like an acknowledgement of a solved mystery between two people.

He knows you better than most people. You’d wager you may know him just as well.

“You okay?” he asks, softer this time. 

The intensity of his gaze doesn’t waver.

You find yourself nodding before you realize it. 

“Are you?”

Levi takes a moment to drop his attention an indiscernible amount, mulling over your question, before meeting your eyes once again.

“Yeah. Better than.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nothing can stop the smile growing on your face, not even by pressing your lips together.

“Never told me your preference,” he states casually, shaking some of his black fringe from his eyes. “In tea, I mean.”

“I’m happy to have whatever you have,” you promise. “I’m not picky.”

“You can be,” he promises right back. “Trust me, I have every type of tea you could think of.”

“Hoarding?”

“Hopelessly addicted, more like.”

The elevator pauses and gives way to the sixteenth floor’s hallway. When the door opens, Levi unfurls his arms to hold his hand out for you to take — only to seem to think better of it and fish for his keys instead as he takes the lead.

Instinctually your hand flexes at the ready to accept, but it falls limp to your side with the decision to simply follow behind.

(Yeah — you’re not used to the proximity yet, either.)

After passing a few apartments, Levi pauses at a door identical to yours and fiddles with the lock until it gives. 

He pushes it open, gesturing for you to walk in first.

A part of you wants to hesitate.

The rest of you refuses.

His apartment is clean to a degree you’ve never seen before — for a person who had no idea he was going to end up coming home with a stranger, you’re impressed by the lack of clothes lying about or…

Really anything.

Everything appears pristine. 

Taken care of.

So meticulously in order that you quickly toe each shoe off before stepping inside to leave the dirt and grime of the city at his doorstep. 

Levi follows suit, removing his shoes and closing the door behind him.

As you stand awkwardly by the door, he shuffles around you to the kitchenette mirroring yours a few apartments below. 

He reaches up into the cupboards to take out two mugs, preparing a kettle on the stove.

“Make yourself at home,” he offers, glancing over his shoulder towards you.

Right.

At home.

At home in the apartment where you got your shit verbally rocked for a week straight.

Afraid of offending him, you begin a slow mosey around the perimeter.

To the right is a cluster of framed photographs hanging on a wall — one portrays a tall, handsome blonde wearing dog tags around his neck and an all-smiles brunette with glasses cinching a less-than-enthused Levi between them. 

The proximity suggests they could be his friends, though the keys each person holds in the photo makes you realize a second later: 

In the background is a boxing ring, barely unpacked.

The co-owners of the old gym, maybe?

Considering the one person has dog tags, you can only assume they all met in the army and found themselves in the same city after deployment.

Another framed photograph has Levi in a similar annoyed disposition, arms crossed and unenthusiastic in contrast to the surrounding smiling young adults. They crowd him in various poses of muscle flexing, proudly sporting Survey Gym tees.

So his gym was called Survey Gym, huh?

The name rings a bell, if only in passing.

The young faces surrounding him must have been his trainees. His fighters.

(The people he held dear before the gym went under and he had to find a new path.)

“Trying to find dirt on me already?”

His voice makes you jump out of your damn skin.

“Oh — shit, sorry,” you sputter, stepping away from the wall. “I was just—”

“That was a joke,” he interrupts, the corner of his lip twitching. 

Levi takes the initiative to walk over to you with both mugs in hand, steaming from freshly brewed tea.

He holds out a no-frills emerald mug to you, and the scent finally catches your nose:

Lavender.

“Those are my friends, if you’re too polite to ask.”

“I was relying on context clues,” you confess, mindful of the heat when taking the mug from his hand. You sip until a familiar warmth spreads through your body. “Co-owners?”

“Used to be,” he answers after his own gulp. His free hand gestures to the photo with two people. “Hange’s probably clinically insane and Erwin’s not much better.”

“The guy you mentioned over the phone to Petra?”

Levi nods, taking another long sip of his tea. You follow suit, enjoying the taste.

“Same guy who got me into the hotline, yeah.” He switches focus to the other photo. “Some of my fighters. They’re busy training with other coaches and shit now.”

“Would you ever go back to training fighters if you could?”

“Probably,” Levi replies, “but I’m not exactly the easiest to work with. If I’m training anyone, it’s alongside Erwin. No exceptions.”

Silence settles between your bodies.

As you continue to stand there, allowing the aroma of the tea to calm your senses, you know — the longer you stand here, the more what ifs begin to plague your mind.

What if you met his friends, became a part of his life?

What if you don’t measure up to his expectations?

What if you just said what was on your mind without holding back — would it scare him?

When you feel your mug suddenly grow light, your instinct is to clench your hand around the ceramic handle.

However, you come back down to Earth to realize the person maneuvering the cup is Levi, who has in turn moved closer to you —

So close you can smell the faint scent of a woody, musky cologne.

Angled towards your body, he pauses in removing the mug from your hands when he feels your muscles tense. “You’re disappearing on me.”

So he noticed, even in person.

Say it.

Say it, idiot.

“Just…” 

Trailing off, you find yourself trusting him; letting go of the mug freely so that he can take it back. Levi sets both mugs down on a slender table situated just under the photographs, placing them on swirling marble coasters.

“Just?” he repeats, a mere murmur this time.

“This doesn’t feel real yet,” you confess. “Being here with you. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I wanted this but in my own apartment. Hell, it feels like this is my apartment because we have the same fucking layout — but yours is so much cleaner, I won’t even lie to you.”

It brings you both to laugh under your breath, octaves intertwining. 

When he shakes his head, you find yourself gravitating to his orbit.

“Doubt it’s bad.”

“Oh, it’s a pigsty compared to this place,” you nervously giggle, moving even closer. “Like, I should go home to clean it – but later.”

“Definitely later.”

“Like tomorrow kind of later," you accidentally joke.

“Agreed.”

Oh.

Before the realization hits you, your breath tickles his cheek. Levi is practically toe-to-toe and warm, so very warm, to the degree of dizzying every reservation you had.

You don’t have the confidence to stare anywhere but his lips, parted with little puffs mirroring yours.

“And what is that you want now?” he adds quietly — a question that shoots straight to your core, twisting it with an intense desire that it nearly takes your breath away.

You know.

And if you were a gambling woman, then you suspect that he knows, too.

Three words exit your mouth, straight from your very soul:

“To be selfish.”

It’s all it takes.

As if released from a leash holding you both to your leads, you meet Levi in a passionate, suffocating kiss. 

His hands reach for your face the same time you reach for his, mangling your limbs in a race to touch, to hold — to feel.

Manners are left behind as you press your lips to his, kissing him like you’ll die without. Your own hands bury themselves in the softness of his hair, dragging through the freshly-buzzed undercut and earning yourself a groan.

Shit.

He sounds even better in person.

“Levi—”

You part your lips with a shuddered breath when his tongue leisurely slides across it. All coherent thought ceases to exist.

It’s just him pushing closer — guiding you backwards — until your back hits something solid.

A surprised grunt melts into another groan as he moves one hand to cradle your head, mindful that the back of your skull doesn’t slam against the wall.

Levi tastes like the pineapple seltzer you abandoned back at the bar.

You want this.

Him.

Never in your wildest dreams have you considered sleeping over a man’s apartment before the third date, let alone the first, yet the heat of him — the taste of him — opens brand-new possibilities that mostly focus on the rest of that body underneath his gray long-sleeved shirt.

You're already grabbing the hem of your shirt. The fabric feels too tight against your blazing skin.

Off.

Everything needs to be off.

“Hey,” he exhales in-between kisses, catching your lower lip in his teeth to tug at it. Instantly you whine into his mouth, an involuntary (and fucking embarrassing) noise. “Hey—”

If he asks, you’ll say yes. 

To hell with the unwritten rules.

You’re consenting adults, it’s clear you both want this, and when push comes to shove —

A hand shoots out, covering yours before your shirt can lift over your bra.

“Baby—”

All motor functions effectively freeze when you realize Levi is pulling away, forcefully creating some distance between your panting bodies.

“Baby, listen to me.”

As if in pain, he grits his teeth and pulls away from the kiss, eyes damn near black. 

You’re left watching, stunned and disheveled and painfully aroused.

Worries go from nonexistent to overdrive in a matter of seconds.

“What’s wrong?” you quietly ask despite your budding panic. “Fuck. Sorry, did I do something wro—”

“No. Shit, are you kidding?”

Those stormy eyes catch yours, and you feel another sharp wave of desire flow through your body.

“You’re perfect,” Levi continues, struggling to catch his breath. “You’re fucking perfect, it’s just—”

Just.

One word acts like a splash of cold water.

You’re perfect, but something is imperfect about this. 

You’re perfect, but he still wants to stop.

Levi scowls, voice rough. “Oi. I can hear you thinking a mile a minute.”

Heat rises to your face. “Me?”

“Yeah, you — so don’t.”

For good measure of reassurance, Levi leans back in to gently peck your lips. It’s less heated but by no means less passionate.

You belatedly press your lips back to his before watching him pull away. 

His lips are slick with saliva and exertion. 

There’s a deeper flush on his face that wasn’t there earlier.

“It’s just that I don’t want to rush this,” he states as calmly and evenly as he can.

Objectively, you get it.

Objectively, Levi is making a whole lot of sense. Rushing into things could end up with a lot of heartbreak and confusion. Taking it slow hurts way less than speedrunning the firsts of a new dating-situation-whatever this is.

Subjectively, you’ve heard him moan in your actual face and you would very much like to hear it again and again until it’s burned into the back of your brain like a core memory.

“And I’m not trying to say that we can’t — trust me, I want to — but you’re not some one-night stand to me in any capacity of the damn phrase.”

Unable to help yourself, you nervously roll your eyes and shrug a shoulder. 

“Technically we’re kind of way past one night stands considering we’ve had, like, six.”

A wicked smirk flickers across his face. 

“Yeah, no fucking kidding — but that isn’t what I mean.”

Taking yet another slow, even inhale, the dark-haired man runs his thumb affectionately over your cheek.

“Let me do right by you. By this. Even if it’s corny as shit, I’ll try it.”

Pausing, he drops the hand on your face to gently take your hand.

“I want to take you out on a date. A nice date. Something proper — starting with finishing our tea, then walking you home so I know you got to your apartment safe.”

“I’m six floors away, Levi,” you tease.

“I’ll settle on taking the elevator with you,” he retorts, teasing right back. "Still: let me prove I can be good to you. That I can earn you."

He pauses, jaw clenched.

"Earn us."

Reluctantly you both detach, the taste shared on your lips. He wastes no time to take your hand in his, squeezing it for emphasis, before giving you back your cup of tea.

Although the room is charged with tension, you both behave.

Sipping tea.

Holding hands.

Staring.

As much as you want to act on your desires, you’re flattered he’s so adamant to take this slow.

It only grounds this fantasy further into the woven fabric of reality — of what’s to come in your life.

Levi is good on his word: he walks you to the elevator, through the corridor and to your apartment.

And when you’ve managed to wriggle your keys into the door, he gently calls your name.

Just as you turn, he places that warm hand on your cheek and presses his lips back to yours.

This time it’s chaste, sweet — lingering.

They brush yours methodically, as if committing your body to memory, before reluctantly pulling away.

“Goodnight, formerly Scarlet,” he states under his breath for only you to hear.

“Goodnight, still Levi,” you return, mirroring his intimacy in tone.

Satisfied, he kisses you one final time before pulling away. 

You watch as he walks backwards towards the stairwell of the apartment complex, a certain glow about him as he asks:

“Will I see you at the gym in the morning?”

As if you’d ever skip a leg day now.

.

Author's Note:

First of all, much love and appreciation for your patience as I finally found the mental capacity to write this chapter. Naturally it was easier to write in the summer, and fall has been A Time (TM). I have a lot of big life events coming up in the next few weeks, but I will keep the dash posted on when they should expect part three.

Thank you for any likes, replies, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[dxxdhood]

Okayyyyyy your sub!Wade Wilson fic literally destroyed me and I need like a million more consider yourself my new dealer

(If reqs are open can I get uhhhhh Wade Wilson where he's needy but has no idea what he wants so reader has to shut his brain off and figure it out for him pls and thanks)

hi anon, i love this idea so much omg! i may have played around with it a bit but i think i still kept the same core idea. i went with fem! reader on this, but if you want a similar request with gn! or male! reader, let me know! pls enjoy!!!

rough night

pairing: wade wilson x fem!reader

summary: wade needs your love and attention, and luckily, you're always there to help him out.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, dirty talk, praise kink, light bondage, grinding, clothed sex, oral (f receiving), exhibitionism, car sex

wc: 2.0k

“Okay, babe, hear me out: the ending to the stage version of Little Shop is leagues better than whatever deus ex machina crap they had to throw into the last two minutes of the movie. Cowardly movie-goer audiences can not handle true stage-level tragedy–”

“Wade!” You shout, nearly swerving the car as you double check the directions. Past midnight on the freeway after a long day, you barely had the concentration to drive in silence– much less in a car with your partner in it. “Can you help me get us home first before we start arguing over musical movies again. Please?”

Wade hums, tapping his scarred hand against the console, “That’s a big ask, I’m not so sure I can, to tell you the truth. You wanna talk about musical movies? Can we talk about how big The Greatest Showman got when the score is nothing but pop songs? Look, I get the lead actor looks like my crazy-hot new best friend, but the 2010s had way better stuff coming out.”

Turning his head so you could see the shit-eating grin plastered on his face, he whistles a note before speaking. “You missed our exit, by the way.”

“What?” You double check the GPS to make sure he’s not lying. Sure enough, he’s right. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Oh, you know. Typical Deadpool, just pissing off everyone around him all the time for no reason,” he chimes in again, and something about his tone sets you off. You speed across the next available ramp, and after the few seconds it takes for you to end up on a deserted road, you stop the car.

Taking a deep inhale, you make sure to hit the inside light so he can see you properly, and you grab the arm still fidgeting next to you. “Wade, what’s up with you?”

His eyes go large, and his expression loses all the mischief immediately. Shaking his head a little, he purses his lips. “Nothing. Nothing’s up.”

“Let’s just get home,” he says after an empty moment, almost like he’s booting up again. “You can yell at me the entire way back, okay? I was being a pain in the ass. I’ll take it lying down, promise.”

Seeing him in the dim, yellow lighting, he’s trying to retreat into his hoodie. He’s pulling away from you even as he speaks, and it makes your stomach turn.

“Let’s–” you start, unbuckling your seatbelt before gripping the door handle.  “Let’s just take a second first.”

You catch a wash of confusion on his face, but you exit the car and walk over to his side before he voices his thoughts out loud. Opening his door, you quickly envelope him in a hug before he can try to pull away again.

You swear you heard a whimper, but it was so quiet, you nearly missed it. Almost instantly, Wade buries his head in your neck, and his arms wrap around your middle tight. 

The two of you stay there, alone, with the gentle sound of crickets chirping in the background for what feels like a small eternity. You know it must have only been a few minutes, because shortly, your thighs burn from the angle you’re bending at, so you gently pull away. You decide not to mention the wetness left on your shirt.

“What do you need?” You ask.

He shakes his head again, but faster this time. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t even know why I was trying to piss you off.”

“Today was fine, right? I thought so, but all of sudden everything felt like it was going to shit. In my head, I just started going around in circles, going over all the little ways I kept fucking up, and – I don’t know – it got to me.” Wade brings a palm to his forehead. “It’s just one of those hate-yourself days, I guess.” 

You nod, taking one of his hands in yours as you stand on the dying grass surrounding the road. Rubbing his palm with your thumb, trying to transfer some of your warmth to him, you’re suddenly met with an idea so good, you can keep inside the chuckle. 

“Sorry, sorry!” You choke. “Not laughing at you, I just– I just think it’s funny where my brain goes.”

“What do you mean?” He looks up at you with pupils so big, you just want to go back to squeezing him. 

“Well, we’re all alone out here.”

You can almost see the loading screen in Wade’s mind when he breaks out in a laugh. “No way, I finally found someone worse than me.”

“Would you want to?”

He’s nodding before he can even process, but after a second a frown sets in. “You know I’m always down to clown around, but I’d just be a burden right now. I’m all sad and icky and touchy-feely. I don’t even know what I–”

“You want me to handle it?” you interrupt. “I’ll just do stuff we’ve liked doing in the past. You don’t have to worry about a thing, I’ll make it all good for you.”

Wade turns his head away, and for a terrifying moment, you believe you’ve made him uncomfortable. But a part of him wins whatever fight is going on eternally, and when he faces you again, a blush coats his cheeks.“You’d do that?”

“You think I’m offering ‘cause I like hearing myself talk?”

“You have the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard,” he smiles, and not having learned anything, you bend down again to kiss him. He responds fast, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek as he pulls you in closer. No matter how much of you he gets, he always finds himself needing more.

You push his hood down and you carefully run your hands across his scalp, cradling his head, as you deepen the kiss. Licking inside his mouth, you feel more than hear a rumble build in his chest.

Breaking away, you pull your sweater off before laying it on the ground in front of the passenger seat. Stepping to the side, you give Wade a second to process before you order him.

“Kneel.”

He definitely mumbles a soft “holy shit” as he slips out of the car and drops to his knees. Briefly, you run your hands across his shoulders, kneading at the intersection between his shoulders and neck, feeling the tense muscle there. Typical Wade to cause problems instead of talking about his own. Just how long was he carrying around all of this tension? Maybe when you’re both home later, at what will probably be the crack of dawn, you can run him a warm bath or give him a better massage.

For right now, you slip past him and sit in the car seat above him. Angled so your legs dangle out the car door opening, you place a hand around the back of Wade’s neck and urge him closer.

“You ready?” You whisper. “You want to eat me out, Wade?”

He buries his head into your thigh at your words as he lets out a groan, “Yes, please, oh my god.”

Grabbing both of your legs, he lifts them onto his shoulder and he already starts to move his head closer in between them.

“Hold on,” you grab one of his hands, interlocking your fingers. “Here, help me move one of my legs off your shoulder and against your dick.”

To his credit, he does, even as he shivers at your words. As he scooches around, trying to get comfortable or maybe just hungry for more sensation already, you feel his cock half hard.

“You’ve been wanting this, huh? Wanting me to boss you around a little,” you whisper, inching your head closer to his so you can whisper in his ear. “Wanting to hear dirty things in my voice?”

“Yes!’ he shouts. “Yes, please! Can I eat you out, babe? I’ll be good!”

“”Course you will be,” you smile. “You’re always so good for me.”

With a little maneuvering around your legs, you manage to slip your shorts and underwear off, accidentally tossing them into the darkness.

Wade frowns, his brow creasing, “No, I haven’t been very good lately–”

On command, you grab his chin and tilt it so his gaze rests on yours. There’s no hiding from your words now. “Don’t say that. Stop talking.”

“You don’t feel good?” you smirk. “Then prove to me right now how good you can really be.”

He needs no further encouragement as he buries his face between your thighs, already licking across you, teasing you even now. His pace is quick, desperate, but he’s still careful to avoid where you need him most.

With one hand perched at the top of his head, you scratch the other down his neck as a warning, but all it does is draw a moan from him. You can feel the vibrations through you, and it causes you to grind across his mouth.

Panting heavily, you decide to even the score. You press your calf up against his hard cock, inching it backwards and forwards, bit by bit, and that’s all it takes for Wade to remember his own needs. Wanting  you already, he slowly grinds against your leg, and though it feels harsh through his pants, from past experience as well as the wet groans filling the air, you’re sure Wade enjoys it.

Suddenly, he decides to circle your clit in earnest, and it draws a loud moan from you. You begin to grind yourself against his tongue, still somehow working you with coordinated movements despite how out-of-control he humps your leg.

His whimpers slip out of him, as if he’s been completely fucked dumb just by getting off on your leg. The power is heady, and you move your hands to his, wrapping them around his wrists and bringing them in front of him to settle right in front of his stomach. Once you’re sure you’ve got a secure grasp, you bring one of your hands away to tilt his face up to yours so you can kiss him again.

You taste yourself warm on his lips, and the thought causes even more heat to pool at your core. All too soon, you pull away from him and shove his head back between your thighs. 

“Fuck, Wade, so good. You’re so good for me.”

He’s whimpering right into your core and involuntarily, the hand restraining his wrists clenches. The harshness only turns him on further, and he continues rubbing himself along your leg so quick, you’re sure it must be starting to sting.

“Yeah? You like fucking my leg, Wade? I love seeing you grind on me, sweetheart, you’re so pretty.”

His pace increases, and he starts letting out frequent moans in between the warm breaths he exhales onto you. Your thighs are shaking – his speed for you has never faltered – and you shove his face towards you with the palm against his head.

“I’m gonna come. You wanna be my good boy and come with me, huh?”

At that, he releases a loud groan into your pussy, and you feel yourself coming, dripping onto his already soaked face. At your wetness, his grinding only increases, and after only a few more seconds, Wade finishes, cum seeping from his pants onto your leg. 

The two of you stay silent with only your breaths slowly returning to normal to fill the air. Wade’s eyes are large, gazing at you like you’re all he could ever want, and it’s almost too overwhelming for you to return.

Shakily, he pushes off the ground and makes it to his feet before he stumbles to the side. On instinct, you jump from the seat outside to catch him, your arms wrapped around his waist. You’re still afraid that he’ll fall, but Wade lets out a light giggle.

“If you couldn’t drive us home before, I’ve got no clue how we’re making it back now.”

You lightly slap his arm, “You could be nicer to me after I made you come, bitch.”

He lets out a groan that would sound exaggerated if it came from anyone else, “Shit, call me that next time!”

“Next time I wreck you in the middle of nowhere?” you smirk.

“Just name a time and place.”

[alisonwritesimagines]

Wonderful Christmas Time ~BatFam Imagine~

Summary: The kids think of a present for you for the Christmas holiday.

Author’s Note: Happy holidays everyone!

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff

Do not repost this anywhere!

When you adopted your children, you assumed that they didn't have a nice Christmas given their background. So you made it a mission to make sure that they would have the best Christmas every year.

But because you always made their Christmas special, it was your turn to make it special. The kids had asked Alfred to take you and Martha out of the manor while they planned on what to get you.

"We need to one up mom's Christmas gift this year," Dick says.

"What should we get her? Bruce gets her whatever she wants anyway," Cassandra points out.

"Well, I don't know if you guys would be down. But I remember my mom loving everything I made for her for Christmas," Duke mentioned.

"But would mom love it though?" Jason asked.

"Ummi loves the art projects I make from school," Damien says.

"I got it!" Stephanie says out loud, making everyone looking at her. "Let's make mom a scrapbook! Put in all the memories we have with her and put them in a book for her."

"How should we make it then?" Tim asked.

"We each make a page for her and put them in the book," Stephanie said.

"That's a great idea! Let's go get the supplies!" Cassandra says to her as they headed out.

To make sure you didn't see any of the pages, the kids would make their pages when you were either out or when you were asleep. Luckily, Martha was a handful so your focus was with her.

When Christmas finally came around, you and Alfred prepared for your Christmas dinner while the kids got your scrapbook ready and wrapped.

"She's going to love this," Cassandra says.

"Kids! Where are you! Time for presents," you say into the manor coms.

"We're coming!"

"You better be wearing the matching pajamas!" You yelled.

You sat on the couch with Martha as Bruce grabbed some presents for you and Martha. The kids came down with the present and handed it out to you.

"For you ummi," Damien says. Your eyes widen a little as you looked at the present and your kids.

"What's this?" You asked.

"We didn't know what the perfect gift for you would be but we have this for you," Dick says. Bruce sat down next to you and took Martha.

You took the present and unwrapped it. You stared down at the scrapbook before opening it up. You began to tear up as you looked through the pages.

"You guys made this for me?" You asked them as you looked through them.

"Yeah. Bruce always gets you everything you ask for so we decided to make you something instead," Jason says.

"I came up with the idea," Stephanie mentioned.

"I love it," you say, crying from joy.

"You always make Christmas here feel special. The least we can do for you is to make something from the heart," Tim says.

"Don't let Martha see me cry. She's gonna cry as well," you say, hiding your face.

"Aw mom," Cassandra says, hugging you. The kids hugged you making you smile at them.

"I love it. Now, you kids open your gift!" You tell them.

The kids got what they had asked for which they all loved. Bruce had given you new jewelry as well as some new clothes.

"Let's do some pictures before we eat!" You say as you took out the camera.

The kids sat in front of the tree as you, Bruce, and Alfred got Martha's attention to look over at your direction. You quickly took the pictures before Martha finally began to cry.

"And she's hungry. Let's eat now," you say as you picked her up.

Bruce smiled around as the kids talked to each other and to you and Alfred. You sat across from him as you fed Martha. You smiled over at Bruce as he made eye contact with you. Bruce got up from his chair and walked over to you.

"It's your turn to eat. I'll take her," Bruce tells you.

"You sure?"

"Go ahead," Bruce says, kissing your head.

"Thank you."

After eating dinner and having dessert, everyone sat around the living room for a Christmas movie. You lied next to Bruce as Damien handed a blanket over to you.

"What movie should we watch mom?" Jason asked.

"Let's watch the Muppet's Christmas Carol," you tell them.

"Got it," Tim said, putting on Disney+. You got under the blanket with Bruce while the kids took turns in holding Martha.

"Merry Christmas my love," Bruce tells you as he kissed your head.

"Merry Christmas," you say, smiling softly up at him.

[okwonyo]

receiving a peck on the cheek while with the members.

ᙏ̤̫ 엔하이픈 ♡ femreader & requested! fluff established relationship warning not-proofread kissing skinship 0.5k | ( bookshelf )

heeseung would, an hundred percent, give you the same energy. he is the type that would press his cheek on your mouth to make the peck last longer, with a satisfied forming on his lips. that the members are there or not, he wouldn't even care— you'd be the only person he sees and acknowledge, the others falling blurry in the background.

jongseong would be taken aback, he'd wipe his face to your direction with slightly baffled expression. he'd stare at you and wonder if you, his beautiful and shy girlfriend, just kissed him in front of his friends. after a long reflection, which consisted to look at you for a second and thinking about your lips on his cheek, he'd give you a peck on yours aswell.

jaeyun would feel as if a arrow shot through his heart, with a random wave of wind blowing right in his face— he'd stop in the middle of his sentence and his pretty mouth would fall agape, matching perfectly with his widened eyes. the giggle that would escape from your lips alongside the laughter of the group would wake him up after a while. then, as he usually does when he gets shy, he'd hide his face in your shoulder; he'd even whine, “stop.”

sunghoon would smile at this attention, genuinely and softly. i do not think he'd be any kind of awkward because of that, although he is not the biggest fan of public display of attention; he'd always appreciates it when you'd things of the sort (peck on his cheek, side hugs...). and, in my humble opinion, the fact that the members are here wouldn't change anything, he likes to show you off.

seonwoo would start getting a bit red, shade of the color of love and shyness appearing on his face alongside a smile curving his lips. he'd wear that cute smile on his that reveals his kissable cheeks perfectly, you'd want to kiss them more and the fact that he'd cutely lean his head on your shoulder, still feeling the warm of your lips on his skin, would not help.

jungwon would totally take that occasion to tease you, totally acknowledging who you are with— knowing that you get shy easily, he'd whisper into your head to give him another peck again, then he'd turn his head and your lips would land on his. then he'd laugh when he sees your shocked face and it'd be when you start pouting that he'd completely forget about the others. he'd kiss you again and again and again until you stop.

riki would probably get shy, not knowing if it's because all his members' eyes are on him or just because the thought only of you giving him the littlest peck makes butterflies appear in his stomach. he'd try to play it cool as he sees that everyone has moved on and got back to talking; ‘yeah, she kissed me and my heart jumped.. so what?’ then, he'd lock eyes with you and a given moment and he wouldn't be able to stop smiling after.

...

taglist open! @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @nwjws @lilriswife4life @alaezasmystery235 @teddywonss @tyussday @cholexc @flickqr @yuviqik @wvnrqs @strawberrywonz @y-ves @isawritesss @filmofhybe @ikeucakes @gweoriz @yunabi436 @ashtxrie @soul-is-a-strange-kid @jaelaxies @jwonsluvr @lynniebearrr-blog @bobabunhee @sunghoonsarmpit networks @k-films @kflixnet @/k-labels

[rhiannonsknife]

https://x.com/femmeflix/status/1852896350481825792?s=46&t=PsXAfTCJv59FchQIdn66aA

I’ve been obsessed with Jackie/your Jackie fics and thoughts lately.

This with Jackie in the wilderness though..? Maybe an AU where she never died and find excuses to keep you “warm at night” in winter? You’re in the farthest corner of the cabin when she starts grinding against you softly. The others are asleep but you still have to be quiet, silently sighing into the other’s mouth as you get each other off…

-🪩

thank you 🪩 anon!! i probably added way too much background lore, but i hope this is what you had in mind <3 nsfw below so: mdni!

i feel like, unlike shauna, jackie would not be so in denial about how touch starved she is. i think she’s well aware that she needs somebody’s comfort, yet ever since doomcoming, she and shauna have not spoken properly and she won’t even look in travis’ direction.

it wasn’t just the betrayal itself, you think, without ever saying it out loud, it was the audacity of it. now, every time jackie glanced at shauna, all she could see was the life she used to have, the life she had taken away piece by piece: her boyfriend, her best friend, her sense of control. nobody is ever calling it by name in spite of the elephant (shauna’s bump) in the room.

jackie hadn’t acknowledged the pregnancy out loud, yet the unspoken tension hangs in the air whenever they are forced to share space, impacting all of you.

the more time passes, the colder everyone gets.

except for tai and van, the rest of the team has sort of neglected the need for physical touch and closeness. without anyone around that you’d be comfortable enough with to ask for a simple hug, you try to do the same as everyone else. only at night, with the others fast asleep, you ever dare to wrap your arms around yourself, picturing it’s someone else holding you.

you won’t let it show to the others, though, not wanting to be the first to break under the current circumstances.

turns out you don’t have to wait too long for someone else to be in a similar position: jackie had been the one to lose it from the start. sure, you’d all been terrified, but out of all the girls, jackie had been the most stubborn when it came to her chores out here.

she’d always been the one least likely to adapt to any of this: to the wilderness, to the cold, to the isolation that gnawed at all of you. she wasn’t built for this life, and everyone knew it, including her. but jackie wasn’t one to let people see her break easily: the same jackie who once thrived on attention now barely spoke, her haughty attitude replaced by something more brittle.

it had only been a matter of time before this facade cracked.

you’d seen her unraveling slowly. the way she avoided shauna, the way she avoided everyone, really. how she snapped at taissa for trying to delegate chores or rolled her eyes at nat’s attempts to hunt. she’s so desperate to seem untouchable, but it is clear to you that jackie’s just lost. and hurt.

and then came the nightmares, too.

you start to wake at night to the sound of her gasping, a sharp cry muffled into the blanket she clutches around her. she must’ve shot up, her breaths coming fast and shallow, and for a moment, you think she might wake everyone else. but the others keep sleeping, too used to the sounds of restless nights to stir. that’s how it starts because you -unsure of what else to do- only reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. jackie flinches, not expecting anyone else to be up at this time. you two never talk about it afterwards but you feel the way she instantly melts into your touch.

that small gesture is what makes you realize how much you’ve missed being close to another person.

after this, it is like a switch has been flipped: jackie is fixated on always lingering in your presence, eager for any kind of touch she can get, whether it’s a brush of hands, her palm to your back, or sitting shoulder to shoulder. she even picks up certain chores just to be near you. whether it is a desperate attempt for proximity and closeness or a real crush that’ll keep on growing beyond this place where you’re stuck, it feels nice to be wanted like this.

one of these nights, with the cabin quiet and the air heavy with the sound of soft snores and the occasional crackle of the dying fire, jackie takes things one step further.

everyone else is huddled together for warmth, but in the farthest corner of the room, it’s just you. or at least it was, until jackie had slipped down beside you, her breath visible in the freezing air as she sits close -closer than she needs to.

she whispers, careful not to wake the others, “it’s freezing. you’re practically an icicle over here,“ she hesitates, her hands tugging at her blanket as if trying to decide what to say next. after another moment, she ventures, “i don’t know how you’re even handling it. i feel like my fingers might fall off any second”

her eyes flicker to yours, searching for something. permission, maybe, to come even closer than she already is. “you know,” she says lightly, almost offhand, “it’d probably be warmer if we shared. not that anyone would care… or even notice.”

she doesn’t press it further, leaving the idea hanging between you. sure, the two of you have shared your moments before, but you certainly hadn’t spent the night cuddling yet.

the silence stretches out, her gaze darting to yours again, waiting for any sign. and then you shift, just a little, leaning closer, not quite touching but enough to give her what she needs. the corner of her mouth twitches, and without a word, she slides her blanket open, wrapping it around the both of you as she settles closer.

jackie voice is barely above a whisper, the words brushing against your ear. “this is okay…right?”

you nod, softly, knowing she’ll see from where she’s curled up against you from behind. like this, the two of you lie in silence for a good while. you know jackie is awake still: you can feel the way she occasionally shifts, or how her breathing won’t still in a way that it would if she was asleep.

it’s strange, how natural this feels: being this close to someone, so comfortably tangled together after such a long time. a part of you had forgotten how it would feel. another part, the one that’s been falling in love with jackie taylor long before your plane crashed, longs to have her even closer and tries its very hardest not to allow your mind to wander…

jackie, on the other hand, hasn’t felt this close to any of the other girls either. without thinking, her hand moves of its own accord, around you to rest on your stomach. her fingers are cold, even through your layers of clothing. she brushes them lightly over your skin, the touch gentle. you audibly gulp, but let her.

after another moment, you are finally brave enough to shift. you lift yourself up and adjust until you’re facing her. jackie’s hand remains on the dip of your waist underneath the blanket.

your bodies are flush against each other, your breaths mingling in the sliver of air between you. jackie’s eyes widen a fraction as you turn, her hand instinctively tightening its grip on your waist. the shift in your position has brought you even closer together.

her hand slides further, fingertips tracing over the shape of your hip. “you’re still cold,” she murmurs, her voice low and hushed in the quiet cabin. her eyes rake over you, her gaze lingering over the curve of your lips.

“it is cold in here” you point out, shivering at the realization of her wandering eyes. jackie isn’t exactly subtle about it either. after all, there’s not much she’s ever wanted that she didn’t get.

her touch is moving from your hip down to the curve of your thigh. her fingers dance over the fabric of your pants underneath the blanket. she’s still fixated on your mouth, her breath hitching as she sees the way you shiver under her gaze.

jackie leans in a little closer when she feels the way your legs fall open under her hands, her lips nearly brushing against your ear as she whispers, “you know, i think i’ve got a few more ways i could help warm you up…” her hand moves again, sliding further up your thigh.

it’s pathetic, really. it’s a desperate attempt to cling to normality. to feel wanted in spite of everything. it’s a short moment in the terrors of the wilderness that she won’t speak about in the morning. but, fuck it, you’re willing to take it.

your breath hitches in your throat when jackie’s hand inches up your leg, a small noise slipping from your lips. immediately, jackie hushes you.

“sh” she says, eyes darting to where the others are fast asleep. “we have to be quiet” and with that, your last restraints are gone. it only confirms what jackie is up to right now -if it hadn’t been clear yet, it certainly is now. and while you know, rationally, that this is a bad idea, the need to feel someone’s touch is too strong for you to neglect it any longer: awkward attempts of trying to get off under the covers whilst everyone else sleeps are clearly not doing enough for you.

at least jackie seems to be on the same page.

you both shift and adjust against each other. it’s a little clumsy, and it takes a moment to find a good position, but it’s driven by the need for something you’ve both been craving, so you make it work. before you know it, jackie lingers above you in a way that has her center pressing against your own under the sheets.

she exhales a shuddered breath and your hands jump up to hold her hips. your eyes are wide as you stare up at her, partly in disbelief that this is happening, mostly because you can’t believe that jackie wants you like this.

jackie leans in, not kissing you yet, but with her arms bracing her weight on either side of your head, caging you in. her eyes are dark, her gaze flickering over your features in a way that makes your stomach flip.

beneath the covers, her legs shift, her body pushing further into yours, grinding against you for the first time, in a way that is deliberate and calculated. her breath stutters, her voice hoarse as she speaks, “you’ve gotta be-” she gasps, and bites her lip, resisting the moan that threatens to escape. “quiet”

oh, how you wish you could’ve met her under different circumstances. how you wish jackie could’ve wanted you like this all the way back home, so you could’ve heard the way she sounds when she’s moving on top of you.

when you finally come back to your senses, you decide to make the most of this opportunity. holding her hips a little tighter, you lift your own from the ground to meet her halfway.

jackie, who’s only ever known sex to be something merely mediocre, is surprised that grinding against you (fully clothed, and in a room full of sleeping people that prevent you from going all the way) is already better than anything she’s ever had.

she shivers as you take the initiative, matching her movements with a gasp that she barely manages to bite back. she arches into you, her body moving steadily now.

her hands slide up your sides, fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the warm skin of your stomach. she leans in, her breath a shaky, quiet: “god, yes…just like that…”

you can feel your own underwear, clinging to your arousal which is growing exponentially at this rate. there’s no way you’ll last long like this, not when you’re embarrassingly close to creaming your pants just from watching her. each of your movements is mirrored by one of hers, until you’ve found a good rhythm to grind against the other. at some point, jackie’s body goes slack and she drops forward. you instantly hold her to your chest as she keeps rutting against you, moaning the faintest little “ah, ah, ah” sounds into your ear.

the friction between you spikes, both of you desperate and greedy for more connection. your hips keep meeting in a slow, steady rhythm, both pushing and pulling each other into deeper contact.

her hands are still wandering over your body, exploring every inch of your skin she can reach through the clothing that’s supposed to keep you warm but is severely restricting right now.

she draws you closer, her mouth by your ear, her voice a low, husky whisper, “i want you…i want you so badly…” she whispers. whether jackie means it or not, it works on you.

“don’t stop” you tell her, rocking into her equally desperately. at this point you can only pray that no one will hear the creaking floor boards. the sheets are a tangled mess around the two of you, the covers having slipped down to her waist as the heat between you escalates.

“jackie” you whisper, hoping the urgency to your tone will get the message across. judging by the way she nods erratically, that seems to be the case.

“yeah” she says, bobbing her head still. “yeah, me too”

you, embarrassed as you are, cum first. it’s quiet, your lips parted in a silent scream as jackie’s constant rocking sends you stumbling over the edge you’ve been toeing since she began straddling you. she watches you fall apart beneath her, not once slowing down or stopping altogether, determined to make herself cum too.

her eyes flutter and she struggles to keep her breathing steady as her hold on you tightens. “don’t- don’t you dare stop-“ she hisses, your pleasure not yet ebbing by the time she follows. jackie is beautiful, obviously, but you’ve never seen something that could ever compare to her when she makes herself come against you: her head falls back and her eyes close tightly. she’s biting her lower lip so harshly she could be drawing blood for the sake of not being too loud.

finally, after her body has gone tense for a couple of seconds, jackie slumps against you. she’s panting right into your ear, unable to speak as her orgasm washes over her. you can feel her thighs trembling around yours as she recovers.

for a few moments, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of the two of you as the silence hangs heavy in the air. the cabin is quiet, the rest of the team blissfully unaware of what just happened a few feet away.

“holy shit” you finally breathe, unsure of what else to do or say. thankfully, jackie doesn’t move away like a part of you had anticipated. she stays right there, on top of you, giving you the courage to hesitantly wrap your arms around her and hold her to your chest.

if you don't move, you'll fall asleep like this and the others will have plenty of questions in the morning. still, neither of you has got the strength to get up, to move away from the heat you're providing. your eyes grow heavy before you know it. it's the first night of good sleep in a long time.

[cimmanonrowl]

Don’t Blame Me pt.1

Part Two | Masterlist

The moment you laid eyes on SSA Aaron Hotchner, you just know that man will be yours one way or another— no matter what it takes. And if Penelope Garcia was on your trail trying to track you down, no one would blame you for crossing all the lines just to get a split second of Aaron Hotchner’s undivided attention.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x stalker!reader

Theme: spicy hotshot

Contents: age gap, implied female masturbation, unsolicited nudes & sexual videos, powerplay: boss/subordinate relationship, stalking, obsessive behaviour.

He didn’t even look at you.

Not with a polite glance, not even a quick peek.

Aaron Hotchner just didn’t fucking care.

When you woke up this morning, you had such high hopes for your first official internship day at the BAU Headquarters. You woke up early to prepare everything. You put on your best outfit: a soft pink blouse paired with a tailored pencil skirt; a calculated attempt to catch Aaron’s eye. You even did your make-up prettily and sprayed your best perfume from Paris— all in the hopes of getting his attention.

Nothing.

And hell be damned if that doesn’t make you furious.

Earlier, as Aaron stepped inside the elevator just when it was about to close, you caught almost instantly how his presence commanded the small space. The two other agents standing behind you greeted him politely, which he only acknowledged with a quick nod.

You watched him in keen interest through his reflection on the elevator wall. Aaron looked so fucking good in his dark suit; the sharp lines of his coat emphasizing his broad shoulders. In the early morning hours, his eyebrows are already tugged to a frown. And you thought to yourself, if only you could kiss that frown away, you’d be on your knees to make sure he stays in a good mood the entire day.

You quietly leaned to one side, moving a bit in an attempt to get him to look your way. Your sleek pencil skirt was fairly fitting, hugging your figure tightly. You even fuss with the collar of your blouse, tossing your hair and showing the faint outline of the delicate necklace you have on. But Aaron Hotchner never once acknowledged your presence, not even a simple glance at where you are standing.

His attention was absorbed completely by his phone conversation, his deep voice a quiet mumble while the elevator purred gently in the background.

“Yes, Reid. We need to have those reports by Friday,” He said, his tone firm but patient. “No, no exceptions. I expect a fair amount of paperwork from each one of you.”

“Of course I know you’ve been taking in some of their loads,” He continued. “They can handle it, Reid. Just take the day off.”

You felt a tug of frustration at the pit of your stomach. How could he not notice you? You cleared your throat softly, a rather desperate shot to get him to look at you, hoping to divert his attention to something else other than his sick colleague on the phone.

But Aaron’s focus didn’t waver.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow. Get well soon, Reid,” he said softly, ending the call with a quick press of his thumb.

The silence in the elevator was deafening. You could feel the wild beating of your heart against your chest, a bitter mix of anticipation and frustration. Aaron’s presence was too overwhelming; all you wanted to do was be as close to him as possible and get his attention as fast as you could.

From the very start, you knew that he was a very busy man. You suspected that when you started doing research about him... but what you didn’t expect was to become another blurry figure seen in the periphery of his busy life.

After being checked in as a new intern by the office security, you were directed to a conference room where several other interns and new recruits were already gathered. The room thrummed with nervous energy, everyone chattering amongst themselves about the prospects of finally working with the Bureau.

“Hi, everyone. Good morning,” A tall, blonde woman with gentle features and a clipboard stepped to the front of the room. “I’m Agent Seavers. Welcome to the Behavioral Analysis Unit Headquarters. Today, we’ll be covering the rules and expectations for your time here.”

As Agent Seavers led the orientation, outlined the protocols, discussed confidentiality agreements, and the importance of teamwork, you found your thoughts drifting to Aaron. Your eyes occasionally flickered to the glass door, expecting him to walk in at any moment, to give a welcome speech or even to take a look at the new interns.

He never appeared.

Hours crawled excruciatingly slow as several agents took turns addressing the group. They discussed the history of the BAU, the structure of the team, and the critical nature of their work— as if everyone was stupid not to do their own research. You had envisioned today differently; a chance to catch Aaron’s attention, to impress and charm him on your very first day.

You couldn’t shake your bitterness because none of it happened.

When lunchtime came, the orientation showed no signs of ending. The agents gathered in small groups to discuss case studies and get to know each other a little. All the while, you kept glancing at the clock and the cafeteria door, hoping to catch a glimpse of SSA Aaron Hotchner.

Still nothing.

And it wasn’t until late afternoon that Agent Seavers answered a question from another intern that jolted you out of your raging thoughts.

“I know most of you are expecting to meet SSA Hotchner’s team but unfortunately they were called out this morning for an urgent case out of town,” She explained with a friendly smile. “They’ll be gone for a few days, but don’t worry, your work here is needed for our ongoing cases.”

This brought a swell of anger and resentment to your body. Aaron had left without a word— not that he’s obliged to inform you… yet. He hadn’t even spared you a glance today or given the impression that he knows you exist at all!

Fucking hell, you feel angry and bitter. You waited patiently for this internship for months and crafted your plan for so long. The man of your desires had been so close today, yet he never felt so distant as he did before.

Four days had passed in a blur of reports, briefings, and training sessions. You threw yourself into your initial tasks, trying to prove your skills and take your mind off your growing frustration with Aaron Hotchner. Each day you’d expect to see him in his office, but the BAU team had not yet returned from their out-of-town case. And truthfully, your impatience was mounting.

What’s the point of going through all the troubles to get into the Bureau if Aaron Hotchner won’t be around, right?

Right.

It was Friday when you finally received a message to report to his office. Your heart was hammering against your ribs as you made your way down the hall, rehearsing everything you might say to him. You spent a good fifteen minutes in the ladies’ room earlier, reapplying your make-up, brushing your hair, and making sure the first button of your blouse was undone and that you subtly pushed your boobs to be available just for him.

Finally.

You knocked on the door with eagerness. And after a few seconds, you heard his deep, authoritative voice call from inside his office.

“Yes, come in.”

You stifled a giggle as you felt a tingly sensation at your core. You spent countless nights fantasizing about hearing that voice in bed- breathless and hoarse as he rammed his big cock in and out of your tight cunt.

“Good morning, sir. You asked for me?” You said, feigning confusion and innocence as you pushed the door open.

Aaron stood behind his desk with his dark eyes focused intently on a stack of files. He looked up as you entered, his expression turning polite, but didn’t carry any hint of recognition whatsoever.

You kindly offered a handshake after introducing yourself. “Lovely to see you again, Agent Hotchner.”

“Are you by chance related to Chancellor Valdez?” He asked curiously, shaking your hand with a firm grip.

“Yes, sir. He’s my stepfather,” You smiled through gritted teeth. How can he remember your stepdad but not recognize your face? “I attended your two-day seminar at our University last year. I was in the front row.”

“Hmm…” He nodded simply with a smile, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

You sat down obediently, trying to calm the thrill rushing through your veins. The room was silent for a moment as he continued to look through a file. After a few moments, he set the folder aside and met your gaze.

“I understand that you’ve been here for a week now,” Aaron began, his tone professional and too cold for your liking. “I hope your orientation has been thorough.”

“Yes, sir,” You replied without hesitation, very eager to please him in every way. “I’ve been looking forward to working with you… and the team since your seminar.”

Aaron nodded, leaning back in his chair. “That’s actually what I wanted to discuss with you today. You will be transferred to Anderson’s team effective immediately after a change in the staffing plan.”

Wait. What?

What?

You blinked as you absorbed his news, feeling as though you’d been slapped in the face. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“I understand that you wanted to work with our team, but this decision is final. Agent Anderson’s team needs additional support, mainly analytical, and your skills will be valuable there.”

“But I wanted to be under Miss Garcia’s guidance,” You argued quickly. “I- I admire her work as an analyst. I want to know- I mean, learn- what exactly she’s doing. I want to be part of your team.”

Aaron’s expression remained calm, nodding in understanding. “I understand that was the initial staffing plan, but the analyst on Agent Anderson’s team will be transferred to a different organization. You will be trained by him on his 30 days of rendering.”

“But Aar— Agent, sir,” You corrected yourself quickly, stumbling over your own words. You even leaned forward to his desk as panic rose in your system. “I can contribute here. I know I can, sir. Just give me a chance to prove myself.”

“This isn’t about your abilities, trust me...” He sighed, rubbing his temples briefly before responding. “It’s about the needs of the unit. Anderson’s team is handling several critical cases that require immediate attention. Analysts are vital members for us.”

With how desperate you are to convince him, you almost missed the way his curious eyes flickered down the unbuttoned part of your shirt and the red, lacy strap of your bra.

“But there are other interns you can transfer to their team...” You clenched your fists, your mind racing nonstop.

You’ve spent days and weeks trying to convince your parents to let you join the Bureau. They weren’t happy with your whim but they gave in eventually. You polished your plan by building new connections and using the ones your parents already have. You begged your mother and stepfather to pull some strings, use your family connections, to make sure you would be assigned to Aaron Hotchner’s team, yet this still happens. What are the odds of that?

All you want to be is as close to him as possible and it’s slipping away right in front of you. “I don’t understand...”

Aaron’s gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained firm. “This is for the Bureau’s sake. Believe me, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to grow and learn with Anderson’s team. Besides, you can always turn to Miss Garcia if you need help.”

“I don’t want to be with Anderson’s team. I want to be here. With you.” You stood up, anger and disappointment lidded your expression.

Aaron remained in his position, leaning on his swivel chair with a slight frown, his eyes locked onto yours. For a moment, something unreadable passed over his face. Then, he sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry, but the decision is made. Report to Agent Anderson first thing on Monday.”

“Agent Hotchn—”

“That’s all for now. Close the door on your way out.”

“Sir, is there a chance we can talk about th—”

“As I said, this decision is final. Thank you.”

Feeling defeated and absolutely furious, you turned without saying a word and left his office in silence. The door closed behind you with a soft thud, and you stood in the empty hallway, trying to process what had just happened.

You had been so sure that this was your chance to get him, and now it felt like everything was falling apart.

You spent one year and three months preparing everything and getting to where you are now. You made a backup for a backup plan for a backup plan you made. But all those plans were to ensure you make him like you one way or another. You had so much self-assurance that you didn’t bother thinking about what would happen if you were re-assigned to another team that isn’t Aaron’s.

But in your defense, it shouldn’t be your problem. Your stepfather promised he’d make sure you will be sent to Aaron’s team. It was an obvious fucking mistake to trust him.

The dining room was filled with the heavy smell of roasted chicken and vegetables, the clinking of silverware, and the distant hum of a French song in the background. As she often did, your mother had gone all out for this monthly family dinner. The table was set with the finest china and a bouquet of fresh flowers displayed at the center.

You sat across from your parents, poking at your food with a distant look on your face. Silently, you listened to both of them engaging in a conversation, knowing that they were subtly watching you from their seats.

Your mother smiled warmly at you as she caught your eyes.

“How’s your first month with Anderson’s team going, dear?” she asked, her voice full of interest and concern.

You just shrugged, your fork pausing mid-air. “It’s fine,” you replied blandly, not wanting to delve into the details. “It was my trainer’s last day of rendering today, I’m officially on my own on Monday.”

“I heard Anderson’s team is handling some critical cases. Must be exciting,” your stepfather smiled.

“Yeah, right.”

Both of your parents exchanged confused glances.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“Exciting, Dad? Is that what you call it?” You dropped your fork with a soft clatter, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “It’s not where I’m supposed to be. I told you a million times I want to be on Aaron’s team. That’s where I belong- with him.”

Your mother’s brow furrowed in concern, taken aback by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, we know how much you wanted that, but Anderson’s team is a great opportunity, too.”

You shook your head stubbornly. “No, Mother, it’s not. You know what I want and now I’m stuck with Anderson’s team because of some stupid staffing decision. You told me you’d handle it!”

Your stepfather set down his glass, his expression serious.

“These things happen in the field, dear. It doesn’t mean you won’t have your chance with Aaron’s team later on.”

“Later on?” You snapped, your voice rising. “I wanted my chance now. And you two—” You darted your eyes accusingly at them, your anger directed outward— “You’re both so well-connected. You have common friends with Aaron, for God’s sake. Why didn’t you make sure I stay on his team?”

Your stepfather’s eyes widened in shock. Your voice was hoarse in desperation and anger. They know how much you wanted to join the Bureau, albeit out of nowhere, but you begged and begged until they had to let you go. They had no idea where this obsession with Aaron’s team came from.

“We didn’t think it was necessary to interfere, sweetheart. We believed in your abilities and thought you’d succeed on your own terms.”

“But we did talk to some of our friends inside, dear.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Well, whatever you did didn’t do me any good, did it? All those connections and it’s still useless. Aaron’s the only one who matters to me, and now I’m not even on his radar!”

“Sweetheart,” Your stepfather cut you off gently, “Aaron’s a professional man. I’m sure these decisions aren’t personal.”

“Not personal? Are you hearing yourself, Dad?” You echoed incredulously. “Because this feels pretty damn personal to me. I’ve been working my ass off, trying to prove myself and make him change his mind, and I'm still in Anderson’s team! And mind you, he didn’t even notice me in the elevator on my first day!”

Your mother reached out to touch your hand, her eyes filled with concern. “Honey, what’s happening to you?”

“Since I got transferred, it’s like I don’t exist to him...” You mumbled to yourself, blinking the unshed tears pooling in the corner of your eyes.

“We’re sorry you’re feeling this way, dear. But you need to focus on doing your best where you are now. Aaron will see your dedication eventually.”

You pulled your hand away, shaking your head. “No, no, mom. I don’t want to wait for ‘eventually.’ I want him to see me now. I want to be closer, and now it’s all slipping away because you didn’t do anything to help!”

The dining room fell silent, the tension thick and palpable. Warm tears continued prickling at the corner of your eyes. Your mother and stepfather exchanged worried and confused glances, unsure of how to respond to your outburst.

“Maybe,” Your stepfather said carefully, “You should talk to Aaron directly, dear. Express your feelings and let him know how much this means to you.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “And what good would that do? He made his decision! If he wants to play hard to get then that’s exactly how we’re doing this.”

Your mother sighed, looking at you in defeat. “I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart. Maybe we should have a conversation with Aaron soon.”

It took all the courage not to roll your eyes at your mother. Of course, they’ll wait for a whole damn month before they even think of helping you out! Yet instead of lashing out, you shook your head again, standing up and tossing your napkin on the table.

“It’s too late for that now. I’ll figure it out on my own. As I always do.”

With that, you stormed out of the dining room, leaving your mother and stepfather in stunned silence.

You stormed upstairs with your heavy steps echoing through the hallways of your home. The sound of your parents’ voices faded as you distanced yourself, and the heavy thud of your bedroom door closing punctuated your frustration and your parents’ confusion about your emotional outburst.

The anger and frustration lingered just beneath your skin as you paced back and forth in your room, biting on your nail.

In the corner of the room was a large corkboard filled with pictures and news articles about Aaron Hotchner. Each photo was meticulously placed, collating the events and his achievements in the Bureau. Some were candid shots from past social parties, others were professional images you found online, and a few were even slightly blurry from your initial attempts to photograph him from a distance.

You walked over to the board, your fingers tracing the edges of a photo where Aaron was smiling— a rare, genuine smile that makes your heart race every time you see it. It was taken from the University seminar they did last year— the very first time you saw him and the same day you promised it wouldn’t be the last.

As far as you can recall, it all started with a simple admiration. He looked so handsome as he stood on the auditorium stage, his voice deep and soothing. You’ve never seen a man as authoritative yet as kind as him. On the first day, he smiled back at you on his way out of the building. On the second day, he praised your question and suggested that you work with the Bureau in the future.

If that’s not a sign that he’s interested, then what is?

On your study desk was a small journal filled with notes about Aaron. It contained details of your interactions from the very first time, his likes and dislikes, and even the dirty dreams you had about him. Now that you work with the Bureau, you’ve gotten to know his schedule, his favorite coffee shop, his lunch order, and even the route he takes to work— all thanks to the ever-kind and gullible Penelope Garcia.

She didn’t know that all the time you spent hanging out in her office, pretending to be upset and pressured as an intern analyst, was your way of gathering information about Aaron. You couldn’t do it yourself given the situation but that won’t stop you from getting Aaron Hotchner no matter what it takes.

“He doesn’t understand...” You muttered to yourself as you stared at a photo where Aaron looked particularly serious and focused. “He doesn’t see how perfect we are for each other. And all these people trying to keep us apart…”

The sound of your burner phone buzzing pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced at the screen— another notification from a spy tracking alert you had set up to track Aaron’s location. He had been seen leaving the Bureau a few hours ago, likely heading home after a long day in the office.

You bit back a smile as you checked your inbox.

3 unread messages.

You were giggling as you typed in your reply. Not even a second passed and your phone vibrated with several new notifications.

A high-pitched squeal slipped from your lips when you read his reply, blushing hard at the vulgar message. You perfectly know he’s trying to trap you and have you punished for doing something “against the law.”

Still, that didn’t stop you from sending another video with your fingers buried deep in your wet cunt and wishing to God it was Aaron’s big cock ruining your innocence instead.

Because, well, it should be his in the first place.

This is Part 1/2. Next one is pure smut.

My Achilles heel is writing short stuff and I can’t write smut without an established background so see you all in part 2! I’ll make sure to write it as filthy and as nasty as I can as a gift to anyone who enjoys part 1. 😅

[mattsfavoritestar]

NO CONTROL, matt sturniolo

part one

synopsis… matt made it clear to everyone that you were his. everyone but you.

warnings… fratboy!matt, collagestudent!reader, female reader, mentions of kissing, slightly suggestive, slightly possessive!matt, slightly obsessive!matt, mostly fluffy, mentions of alcohol and drug usage,

word count… 1174

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

“i just don’t get it? do i look okay? is it my breath?”, you ranted as you felt your friends hand rubbing your back. yet another guy you tried flirting with scrambled away with small apologies. you didn’t even want to try with the rest, they all avoided you as if you had the plague.

“probably just some dumb rumor someone started” your friend reassured. you sighed as you downed the red solo cup you were nursing for the past five minutes. “i wanna dance” you mumbled as you pulled your friend over to the more crowded area.

your head felt warm and fuzzy with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls as the alcohol melted into your system. you weren’t paying attention to anyone else in the room nor did you care to. till you were literally knocked out of your trance.

“yo, watching where you stepping bitch”, a series of gasp followed. your friend balanced you by holding your shoulders then pushed you behind her. you heard her voice berate him for being blind and delusional as he clearly bumped into you. you were already done with the day with the failed hook up attempts still fresh in your mind.

“c’mon i just wanna go” you grumbled. you had no energy to deal with whatever drugs this fratboy was high off of. one of the guys who were watching you from afar walked up to the fratboy and whispered in his ear. you watch his eyes widen and jaw slightly drop. you figured it wasn’t your friends lecture that gave him said reaction but more so of what that guy told him.

he gripped his hair in a panic as the harsh words from your friend aired right over his head. you watch him curiously as he started stuttering out an apology to you. “i’m so- i didn’t- fuck please don’t tell sturniolo” he begged.

sturniolo?

matt sturniolo?

“what are you talking about?” you ask in both annoyance and confusion. “i swear i didn’t know you were sturniolo’s girl-“ you ignore the rest of his apology as you felt the little alochol you drank earlier fuel your emotions into a rage. you swiftly turn around and march out of the party with your friend calling after you in confusion.

“matthew bernard sturniolo!” you called out with anger laced in your voice. you were annoyed with how your night was going, annoyed with that stupid coke addict calling you out your name, and to top it off you were met the face of someone who could pass as matt’s clone.

“woah calm down sweetheart,” chris chuckles. you were annoyed with one triplet already, you didn’t need another practically laughing in your face. “did you know?” you ask with a pointed finger. his hands shot up in the air, “i got nothing to do that, kid’s got no control of himself” he smiled.

you rolled your eyes, “where is he chris” you ask. chris nods towards the stairs, indicating matt residing in his room. you push past him as you heard yet another chuckle fall from his lips. too many eyes were watching you as you walked toward the familiar door. it wouldn’t be the first that these guys saw you head to matt’s room, only this time, it felt different.

you didn’t even bother knocking as you swung the door open. instantly hit with clouds of smoke with the soft voice of frank ocean playing in the background. matt was sitting on his bed with his back to his headboard as his head lazily rested back.

you strutted over to him but felt your anger slightly slip at the sight of his relaxed face and tussled hair. a smirk slowly painted his face as his heavy eyelids revealed his reddened blue eyes. “enjoying the view?” he says in a cocky tone.

“fuck off, i know what you did” you stated. you felt his hands slither their way onto your waist then swiftly pull you onto his lap. “yeah? tell me what i did baby” he whispered as he trailed his lips on your neck, occasionally leaving small kisses.

that alcohol in your system made your skin feel warmer. that, mixed with the fact that matt looked so good right now really wasn’t helping your interrogation. your body subconsciously pushed closer to feel more of matt as your words grew shorter.

“matt fuck. no- no stop.” you say as you find your self restraint.

he looked at you with his hooded red eyes, blown out pupils, and glossy lips. you had to compose yourself before you did the complete opposite of what you originally came to do. “why’d you tell people i’m off-limits?” you calmly ask him, you weren’t even mad anymore.

he shrugged, “just didn’t feel like sharing” he mumbled. you sighed as your fingers threaded through the back of his hair. “matt, we said no strings-“ you were cut off by his low groan. matt never took himself as the type of guy to like to have his hair being played with. if anything he always said that was for those corny ass couples. yet here he was melting at your touch.

“i’m not sorry if that’s what you’re asking” he says. you let out another sigh, “matt you can’t go around claiming me then go fuck other-“ a hand gripped your jaw as he makes you look directly at him.

“don’t even start with that shit, m’all yours” he says in a stern voice. you were at lost for words, entire topic completely blurring away. he pulled you into a kiss then drops his hand to your waist as his other holds your lower back. you pull away slightly, hovering over his lips. “i think we’re both a little too vulnerable right now” you whisper.

matt’s head drops to the crook of your neck. he inhales with a groan as the scent of your perfume fills his nostrils. “you always smell so good” he mumbles against your skin. you gasp as he flips you both over, you head bouncing onto the pillow. his entire body laid on top of you. “matt i can’t sleep like this, my legs might go numb” you laugh.

you felt him shrug, “i don’t care” he says. you remove your hand from his head to try reaching for your phone. matt’s head snapped up with a scowl on his face. “i gotta text-“ you were cut off as he takes your phone and tosses it to the bedside table. “text her tomorrow” he says as he takes your hand and places it back onto his head.

you laugh again, “matt you’re insane”. he didn’t respond but instead nestled his head right onto your stomach as his other creeps under your shirt. you didn’t care as you felt the weight of his hand under your bra, you knew there was no sexual intention behind it. as your eyes drooped down, you knew that you were going to be pissed with yourself in the morning.