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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

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this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s.

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side.

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him.

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night.

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real.

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word.

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one.

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair.

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question.

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to.

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment.

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth.

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?��

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up.

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table.

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you.

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God.

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out.

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you.

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially.

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door.

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal.

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you.

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you.

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable.

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong.

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him.

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss.

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine.

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment.

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze.

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound.

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text.

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling.

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will.

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough.

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty.

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly.

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan.

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck.

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak.

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you.

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more.

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent.

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him.

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet.

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about.

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers.

Long night, huh? I remember those days.

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all.

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor.

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning.

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated.

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation.

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away.

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.”

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him.

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see.

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken.

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away.

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down.

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem.

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve.

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently.

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad.

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what.

But that’s not the topic at hand.

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow.

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response.

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting.

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers.

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back.

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting.

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here.

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough.

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you.

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list.

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough.

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice.

He can’t not worry.

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him.

part nine

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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sagatale · 8 months ago

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Dreams Of You

Hello everyone! So, I thought I would give posting fanfics a shot, starting with this small "blurb?" of Jacob Black. Obviously, aged up! I have been wondering quite a lot recently how imprinting would feel and be perceived since it's described as more intense than normal love. I really hope you like it, and if you have any other ideas for a longer fanfic you would like me to write next, let me know, and I might write it!<3 sexual content 18+ minors dni

“I dream of you all the time.” His voice was low, his breath brushing against your collarbones as he found a place in the crook of your neck. Warmth surrounded you, scorching skin burning through the layers of clothing, heating you until all left were cold fingertips and even colder lips. “Even when I’m awake, I still dream of you.”

The words were almost unrecognizable as his mouth pressed against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. His words never failed to make your heart flutter at his blatant affection for you. Never did it cease to overwhelm you, for he told you that there were truly no words that could describe how he yearned for you every minute—every second of his long, exhausting days.

Indeed, you couldn’t imagine what that was like, for if you harbored feelings in that vast amount, there could be no other way for you to deal with them than simply exploding.

Sometimes, when Jacob was perched over you, arms wound tight under your back as he hugged you close to him, strong legs helping him push into you, you could almost be sure your thoughts weren’t too far off the mark. The way his hands always seemed to handle you softly now strained against his strength, pulling you so tight against him as if having you close was the only way to keep him from eating you alive.

His pronounced brows permanently furrowed something so terribly, eyes tightly shut as sweat dripped down his skin, the salty substance dripping down your chest as his lips distracted themselves by dragging his tongue over your pulse, breathing in your scent til it consumed him whole. Strained breaths could be heard, grunts mingling with your quiet whimpers as your hands trailed over his shoulders, feeling his body tremble beneath them, shaking something so terrible.

You’d ask him if he needed a break, worry consuming you when his strong arms gave up, pressing into you more urgently as the bed rocked against the wall. Yet it turned out there wasn’t anything the matter with his stamina as he growled in protest when you tried to sit up, his heavyweight over you making your attempts futile, desperate lips finding yours as he slowed slightly, grinding into you as you moaned at the tortuous rhythm he set.

“You’re shaking, Jacob.” You’d say quietly, fingers threading through his damp hair as his hazy, warm, brown eyes found yours, once more planting his lips against yours. “I’ll be okay.” He’d mumble through the kiss, tongue caressing yours as his hand softly placed itself on your cheek, threading over your skin as if it were porcelain.

It didn’t take long for him to move inside you again, eyes glazed over as he stared into yours through lidded eyes, mouth open over your gasping one as your fingers ran through his black hair. Bringing him down to you once more, you felt the ridges and bumps of his upper body against you, muscles clenching with every thrust as if it took every willpower of his to control himself.

“God.” He panted out, releasing you to slap his hands against the mattress, gripping the sheets tightly in one hand as you heard them rip under his harsh treatment, the other hand taking hold of the headboard. The wood complained under his hard hold, crumbling as his hold tightened. Your hand found his cheek amidst the pleasure coursing through you, thumb carefully stroking the skin as you whispered his name.

It felt like every sense of reality was swept away from Jacob as his unfocused eyes fell on you, heart thumping so hard against his chest it felt like it would punch through both skin and bones. Shaking his head, he looked at you again, still finding your lidded eyes staring back at him like he had created the world you walked on.

“You’re gonna kill me,” He grunted, reveling in the feeling of your cold fingertips against his hot cheek as his stomach coiled something so terribly, making him believe he was going to go insane with desire.

In a way, he always feared being this close to you, for only being in your presence was overwhelming for him, never mind feeling your soft skin against his and hearing your pleasure-filled whimpers as he took you. Oh, how he had longed for you, how much he longed for you now, even though he was the closest to you he could ever be.

He didn’t lie when he told you he always dreamed of you. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you, like you were carved into his eyelids. He never could get close enough, and while that was a curse in itself, it was a curse he wouldn’t trade for any other.

#jacob black smut #jacob black x reader #jacob black imagine #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight smut #jacob black #twilight fanfiction

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unhingedgirlythings · 9 months ago

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FUCK IT

SUMMERY : Reader gets her date interrupted when Hotch calls up asking for her to get to the BAU. Reader rushes over still dressed up and a certain dr can’t keep her eyes off her teehee.

Tags:fem reader , a huge amount of awkwardness, reader is over her love life

A/N: I WANTED AWKWARD SPENCER REID, bare with me tho cuz I haven’t written a fanfic since I was 13 and it was horrible so please be kind and let me know your thoughts :))) enjoyyy.

——————///—————///--——————///——————

You were used to your phone ringing at the WORST possible times, I mean with your job that was something you just had to prepare yourself for. Serial killers don’t take a break just so you can have a girls night out or take a nice relaxing bath after a long day. Although never in your life did you imagine the wave of relief that would wash over you as the all too familiar ringtone blared from your phone. Normally you would groan and feel your body grow more exhausted whilst hesitantly picking up the phone, but not tonight. Nope. Fortunately for hotch, you couldn’t have answered the phone faster. “what’s up” low and behold hotch was on the other end requesting your presence ASAP!

You tried to hide your glee as you glanced over at the douche-ist blind date that the great quote on quote “matchmaker” of the century Garcia, had raved on about the week before. To be fair the date didn’t start off bad, it was actually the most decent one you’ve had yet. Honestly you were ready to finally praise Penelope for actually finding you a decent man to take your mind off the unrequited school girl crush that you had on a certain “kid” genius. somehow you escaped the dude who clearly was stuck in some frat boy mindset, well not without some snarky comment made towards you which you shut down a little harsher then needed but seriously you couldn’t hold back anymore, you had no idea what possessed Penelope into thinking you would EVER consider going home with the king of fucking douchebags (most likely the biceps and tight clothing that the man sported). Nevertheless here you were speeding down the freeway, thinking way too hard about your love life completely blanking and forgetting to drop by your apartment to quickly change into something more work appropriate.

Before you knew it you’ve parked your car, walking into the cold air. A shiver runs down your body and the shock hits you when you realize. Here you are in a little skimpy black dress that clings to your curves in “just the right way” according to Penelope before shoving you out into your car heading to that horrible excuse of a date, “ahh shit. Fucken seriously! Of course this is just my luck … I mean at least I look good” groaning and mumbling to yourself, you make your way into the building. You knew Hotch would be understanding, I mean you never know when you’re gonna be called in and it sounded urgent so yeah, sometimes you and your coworkers walk in with inappropriate work wear. You will never forget the time he called everyone in at god knows what time, Spencer had walked into the room with his pjs sporting a fluffy dress robe, you seriously thought someone was going to have to perform cpr on you that night.

Walking into the building in heels was definitely a pain in your ass, but you managed as you pushed the briefing room door open. A low wolf whistle from Derek Morgan was the last thing you needed right now “damn sweetheart, who knew you could clean up so nicely“ As you make your way into the room, you playfully roll your eyes at him.“haha very funny” you cringed as everyone’s attention was now drawn to you. while taking a seat next to JJ, wishing to be wearing literally anything else “Sorry Hotch, i came straight from..” you hesitate for a second, glancing around before continuing “A date, but this sounded important so I didn’t have time to change”The stoned faced man simply nods at you “It’s fine. You're here, right now we have a lot to cover” He starts debriefing the team, leaving no detail out of the case, no matter how brutal, you tried your hardest to give him your unwavering attention, but you could feel someone’s eyes on you. And out of the corner of your eye see him. Spencer.

His stare was hot and intense, and fuck was it making you become a flustered mess. You glanced at him from your peripheral trying your best to be subtle about it, it was getting harder and harder to focus on Hotch and the case, not Reid. But when his puppy dog eyes drifted up, down and all over your body, your body involuntarily reacted, slightly squirming in your seat. Before you could stop yourself, your eyes turn and lock onto his gorgeous brown ones, a smirk graces your lips as he finally notices your eyes now on him. Looking like a kid being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he turns pink from the embarrassment and shame of being caught, and god did that make your head spin. Now it was his turn to awkwardly squirm in his seat while staring at Hotch with all his attention. You giggle under your breath at his fumbling awkwardness. Before you know it everyone around you starts to pack up their things and stand up, leaving you confused. Of course you spent the whole debriefing paying so little attention to the case and more on Spencer.

Sighing, you pull the hem of your dress down as you stand trying to save yourself from even more embarrassment. “soooo how did it go? Was he as yummy as you’d hoped?” Garcia wraps her arms around yours as you try not to stumble down the stairs towards your desk “you, my love are officially banned from meddling in my love life” you could already hear the trail of complaints bouncing around in her head as you plopped down onto your desk chair, reaching for the new case folder hoping to catch yourself up before take off in the morning “aww come on I for sure thought you’d be jumping his bones, all those rippling muscles, who In Their right mind could resist” the thought of the man you had seen a few hours prior put a foul taste in your mouth, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust “he was a complete dick, he legit referred to himself as an “alpha male” AN ALPHA ,Only thing I wanted to jump , was off a building at that point” a defeated look from her was all the conformation you needed, no longer were you going on blind dates, and your love life was back to being non existent and sad “sorry Pen I tried, I really really tried, you just have horrific taste in men like my god do we need to get you some help. These guys are basically human garbage” whilst looking up your eyes naturally drift and settle on Spencers desk frowning as you watch him, his heads buried in the case file whilst obsessively jotting down notes like some multitasking god, your heart couldn’t help but pine after his more, the looks you shared moments before didn’t help your case either. Resting your chin in the palm of your hand, you drag your eyes away trying to spare yourself from going into one of your Spencer Reid spirals. You look up at Penelope already disliking the pitiful look she was giving you “are you sure your ready to give up?, I mean I know this cute guy who would be super into you, he's just your type “the new voice startled you, turning in your seat you’re met with Emily smirking down at you whilst leaning against your desk inserting herself into the conversation with JJ beside her “wow ok fun, are we all just gonna just dive head first into my personal life?, don’t we have a case to work on?” trying to deter the subject of the conversation off of you was a bust, as the women you call friends gleam down at you with a shared look “yeah no this is too entertaining to sit out on.” you couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now, letting out a groan you leaned back in your chair covering your face in hopes of hiding the redness in your cheeks “sweetheart, what you need is a good ol one night stand, get a certain pretty boy out of your system” if you weren’t already melting into a puddle of embarrassment, you definitely were now “Morgan shut up please for the love of everything holy”

you could only pray Spencer wasn’t paying attention to the little group that was forming at your desk, maybe he was being good and reading the case file like the rest of them should be doing but of course luck wasn’t in your favor tonight “what are we talking about?” Before you could shut the whole conversation down Morgan happily answered Spencer “oh, we were just discussing Y/L/N’s love life. I think she needs a good root, what do you think?” that stupid smirk Morgan was happily wearing was enough to make your blood boil, now you truly wished to disappear “ok ok that’s enough” you shoot up from your seat avoiding any eye contact with Spencer not wanting to see his reaction to your humiliating red face “conversation over, my love life is going back to being non existent, thank you for your concern but it’s over, officially dead so no more talking about it.” you snatch the file off your desk ready to get the hell out of whatever situation you found yourself in “i'm going home to at least get some sleep before we leave tomorrow or I’ll be a zombie all day” with that you hastily made your way out of the building and into the cool night air once again.

wrapping your arms around yourself in hopes to provide some warmth, you slowly make your way to the car park. Before you could make it to your car you could hear foot steps getting closer and closer until they were right behind you, stopping along with yours once you had reached front of your car. Quickly spinning around you slam them onto the car's hood, arm in your hand, face down and pinned.

“Ow ow ow ow Ow!” Shit. It was Spencer. The man you’ve been daydreaming about and here you were pinning him to the hood of your car. “oh shit sorry, my god, don’t walk up on me like that holy shit Spence you scared me” you pull away off him whilst letting go of his arm and backing away a little. Spencer lets out a hiss of pain as he pushes himself off the hood, rubbing his arm to try and relieve the pain “sorry I was just trying to make sure you got to your car safely. It’s late a-and” he looks at your dress whilst clearing his throat looking away awkwardly “are you ok? you seemed upset in there” he looks back at you whilst giving you a smile that made you wanna pass away on the spot “yeah I’m ok, just having your dating life put on full blast in front of the team like that can be a tad embarrassing” silence was the only response you were met with, you glance up at Spencer trying to think of something, anything to say in this moment “you look really nice by the way, it’s unfortunate your date turned out that way.” His eyes meet yours, your breath gets caught in your throat as heat creeps up your neck to your face “t-thanks” tugging on the hem of your dress you smile sheepishly “not the most comfortable outfit, honestly wish Pen let me wear my sweater but you know”

“Penelope” you both say, you giggle as Spencer chuckles. “Oh by the way, I thought you may want these, may help a little tomorrow” he hands you the notes he took from the briefing, Your fingertips brush against his, the feeling of warmth from his hands sends a shiver down your spine. “Thanks Spence. I appreciate it” you stand there longer than needed before you start to turn away from him. “You know, that even though there aren't any hard statistics, it’s roughly estimated that every 1 in 3 or 4 blind dates actually end up as a success” he rambles on, looking back at him you try to pay attention but you can’t stop your eyes from sifting down towards his lips “so there is a chance” his voice fades away as his words become background noise and your thoughts become louder and louder, all you could think about was him, the feeling of wanting only grew stronger with each passing minute. It didn’t help that his lips were tempting you, calling you in. you couldn’t hold yourself back much longer, will power growing weaker and weaker “fuck it” your body moves before commen sense had its time to put a stop to whatever ridiculous thoughts you had muster up, suddenly your lips press onto his without thinking it through. It was short and one sided yet sweet, the faint taste of coffee and sugar overwhelmed your senses

The sudden realization hits you hard as you push yourself off Reid, the feelings of regret and fear settles itself in your stomach making you feel sick “Sorry I wasn’t thinking, shit sorry, forget that happened ok” you back away keeping your eyes glued to the ground in fear that you’ll look up and only see rejection written on his face. What in the hell possessed you to do that?, why the fuck did you do that, the only reason you kept your feelings shoved down was to protect your friendship with Spencer, nothing meant more to you then the bond you both shared and now you’ve ruined it and for what? A stupid kiss? “wait, uh No no it was just unexpected I didn’t hate it actually quite the opposite” your head snaps back up at a red faced flustered Spencer Reid “don't apologize“ his warm hands warp around your cold ones as he steps closer to you once again “did you um maybe want to try that again? Only if you want to though I don’t want you to regret anything” you giggle as he starts to nervously stumble over his words, this time more confident in your actions your lips find his for the second time tonight.

The taste of coffee meets your lips again as your body relaxes into the kiss, which is very reciprocated this time. The warmth radiating from Spencer chases the cold night air away. As your bodies shuffle closer together. you both hesitantly pull away from each, you wanted to stay here in this moment for as long as possible but of course your bed was calling your name along with the early flight departure. “I should go” you really didn’t want to “I know“ his hands stayed on your waist for a moment before slipping away “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow” the sweet look on his face drove you crazy, the urge to say fuck it and stay with him for the remainder of the night was overpowered by the sleepless night before, you settle for placing a goodnight kiss on his cheek instead “night Spence” winking you open your car door and make your way in, you turn the car on and roll the window down to call out to him as he backs away with a smug smirk on his face “sweet dreams pretty boy” with that you drive away replaying the events of tonight in your mind, god you couldn’t wait to get the case over with so you could finally have a date that wasn’t going to end in ruins, especially with the man you’ve been crushing on since your first day, yeah no you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight now.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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zemosbff · 3 months ago

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study session

amongst other things…

pairing: mentor!agatha x witch!reader

summary: tired of studying, you find something far more enjoyable to do together with your mentor, agatha harkness..

content warning: (legal) age gap, teacher x student, fem (afab) reader, a little mix of everything; dry humping, nipple play, eating out (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink

word count: 1.6k

a/n: haii :3 this is my first ever fanfic, i hope you all enjoy it! don’t be afraid to leave requests or some feedback!

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

the words in the book you were reading soon turned into mush. your head throbbed and a big sigh left your lips before turning to your mentor sitting on your right.

you had been agatha’s student for a couple of months now, ever since you moved in next door. she had been the first to introduce herself to you, and as soon she realized that you too, just like her, were a witch, she took you under her wings. she wanted to teach you everything she knew, wanted you to be her perfect little student.

“agatha..” you started, but as soon as you locked eyes with the older witch already staring at you, you quickly forgot your trail of thoughts.

as embarrassing as it was, there was no denying your feelings for agatha. which maybe wasn’t so weird after all since she was quite literally the only one you had. you spent more time with her than alone, and you had tried to convince yourself it was because of your immense dedication to the research and work you put into learning and be a good student. but that wasn’t exactly the truth, and deep down you knew it.

so, instead of trying to bury your feelings, you decided to have some fun with it instead.

you had no idea whether agatha actually liked you back though, so it was definitely a risky game. but you were tired of studying, and it was a risk you were willing to take. besides, she always used pet names for you which sent butterflies down your stomach. was it normal for a mentor to call their student things like “hon, “sweetheart”, “angel”? or your personal favorite, “good girl”. you weren’t sure, but in your mind you were the only one she would call those things. hopefully.

“what, darling?”

darling. the word sent shivers down your spine, and you tried hiding your little smirk that creeped up your face. perhaps agatha saw this, because what she did next made your breath heavier.

she calmly put her hand on your thigh, still keeping eye contact with you as she started to move her hand up and down, caressing you carefully. the touch wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, but made your heart flutter nonetheless.

you had grown impatient as of lately, and therefore dressed in a way you thought would attract the older dark haired witch beside you. the short dress made an easy access to your already dripping cunt. it took so little to make you worked up, something that agatha regularly took to her advantage, unbeknownst to you of course.

“are you going to answer me or not?” she let out a small chuckle, watching your cheeks grow red.

“can we do something else?” you asked with uncertainty. you didn’t know how she would react, perhaps your delusions were just that - delusions.

she leaned towards you, and when she was so close you could feel her breath against your ear she whispered in a seductive voice.

“like what?”

she leaned back again and bit her lip while watching you lose your confidence and quickly surrender to her.

your legs started to feel weak, and you felt thankful for sitting down. was this actually happening? is agatha flirting with you or is this simply your imagination slipping away from reality?

she closed the thick book in front of you harshly and continued.

“alright, since you’ve worked so hard, would you like a little reward?”

you managed to open your mouth and let out a pathetic attempt to answer yes while nodding.

you had no idea what would happen next, it felt as if your head simply stopped all kinds of thoughts, not wanting to interfere with whatever was going to happen next.

agatha leaned forward slowly, as if she was afraid to scare you away if she moved too quickly. you could see the lust and yearning in her eyes, and as if something took over your body you crashed your lips onto hers. her hands reached your hair and gripped tightly, making you groan into her mouth, which led to her taking the opportunity to stick her tongue in your mouth. you had been kissed before, but nothing could compare to this. months of stares that lasted a bit too long, pet names and touches that could be considered flirting, but both too anxious to actually take the first step.

it felt as if you were on fire, shivering when her tongue went deeper, making you forget how to breathe properly. while keeping body contact she stood up, and you obediently followed her lead. her hands laid on your shoulders and still deep in the kiss you moved to agatha’s couch; the bedroom simply being too far away at the moment. you needed each other, and had no time to spill, so the couch would do. agatha pushed you down while quickly following, she sat down beside you, legs touching.

without breaking the kiss you raised one of your legs and put it on the other side of her, making you sit on top of her. the sudden change of position made agatha whimper into your mouth and you realized you now had the upper hand.

desperately wanting some friction you started moving your hips back and forth, searching for something to get you off on. agatha’s hands found your hips and pushed you down while helping you move.

“please.. i want you..” suddenly the words you had been thinking of for so long finally left your mouth, and you couldn’t believe this was really happening. apparently those three words i want you was all that was needed for agatha to hungrily touch you all over. her hands lingered over your breasts and just seconds later she threw your dress over your head. still sitting on top of her, she had a perfect view of your completely bare chest. she looked at you shamelessly while she took one of your nipples into her hot mouth, swirling her tongue just perfectly making the hairs on your body stand right up. one of her hands found your other nipple and gently pinched it, looking for a reaction from you which you gladly gave her, whimpering loudly.

she moved on from your breasts and instead started leaving wet kisses all over your neck, trying to taste every part of you.

“you want me baby? tell me you want me” her voice was low and husky, making your legs tremble.

“yes, god agatha, i want you so bad”

“such a good girl”

there it was. good girl. nothing in the world could ever get you as riled up as agatha calling you a good girl, specifically her good girl.

you sucked in a sharp breath when she moved you to lay on your back, and she slowly lowered herself and pulled down your underwear with only her teeth. you could tell she was skilled, way more than you were, so you decided to just let her take full control over your body. she could use you, do whatever she wanted with you without question.

she put a trail of small fluttering kisses along your inner thighs, making your whole body shiver.

“does this feel good hon?”

without even waiting for your answer she teased your folds with her nose, before licking up your leaking juices.

“so wet for me already, hm?”

you let out a loud moan when she for the second time closed the distance between your soaking core and her mouth. she explored your pussy with her tongue and started getting more and more aggressive with it. wanting to give you the most pleasure possible she started rubbing your clit in circles with her fingers, still burying her entire lower face into your folds.

“feels.. so good..” you finally let out with a heavy breath, not knowing what else to say or do.

your hands reached down to her thick hair, pulling it harshly when she bit down on your sensitive clit.

mindlessly fucking you with both her fingers and mouth she felt you tense up, and you started to feel the familiar sensation in your abdomen, knowing you were close.

“i.. i’m close..”

“beg.”

“please.. please let me cum”

“that’s what you call begging? honey, you’re pathetic” she said with her low sexy voice, absolutely sending you over the edge.

“agatha oh my god, please let me come, please mommy”

and with that you let it all out, squirting over her face while you bucked your hips up and down to ride it out. with a sigh and eyes rolling back in your head she inserted a finger in your hole, stretching it out without any warning.

“fuck, agatha!” you screamed, while she hushed you, explaining that we didn’t want the whole neighborhood to hear now, do we?

but in all honesty, you couldn’t care less. she pumped her finger in and out, soon leaving you a blabbering mess.

a second finger appeared inside you, and she picked up her pace even more while your walls started to clench around her.

agatha leaned forward and pressed loving kisses all over your face while tears started to form in your eyes as she continued aimlessly fucking you, not giving a single thought to just how overstimulated you were at the moment. just a single touch would make you melt.

your breath became more prominent and you knew you wanted, no, needed, to orgasm on her fingers. your back ached and with a couple more sinful moans from you and a third finger from agatha, you screamed her name while letting loose the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire life.

panting like she had just ran a marathon, agatha left a kiss on your forehead.

“how was that, hm?” she asked, and all you could think was that this was so, so much better than studying.

a/n (again): let me know if anyone would be interested in a part 2! also i lowkey rushed this because i just wanted to be done with it, but hope yall enjoyed it anyways!

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x reader #wandavision #kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn smut

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pincushionx · 2 months ago

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Blood warning!

I see lots of fanfics that talk about the Grimwalker stories and myths as Grimwalkers being these predators that hunt witches and are these monster that feed off of flesh, but all of these are usually false and like I said just myths.

So what if that wasn’t the case? What if Grimwalkers were the flesh craving beasts everyone thinks they are. Aka me giving Hunter the Tokyo Ghoul treatment (kinda)

This image takes place during Thanks to Them, he’s hunting and consuming animals to sustain himself but they can only do so much. He keeps it a secret because he’s ashamed, scared and full of self loathing. Unfortunately you can only sneak out and wash your clothes so frequently until you get caught.

…

The craving flesh started around the time Hunter started hitting his second stage of puberty, so around 12 to 13 years old. It started off as spouts of aggression, weight loss and odd carvings that he suppressed until he eventually snapped and attacked a scout. Once he consumed flesh, there was no going back.

This happened with a few Grimwalkers, typically one made around pubescent years due to this being a natural development. Grimwalkers who are made as adults don’t get this since get miss that developmental period. A reason why Belos made Grimwalkers strictly adults for hundreds of years before trying out a new experiment.

When Belos made Hunter, he was aware of this and rather than kill Hunter off or just make an adult Grimwalker, he decided he can benefit from a “monster” needing a source of food.

Hence, Hunter picking up a reputation for being “feral.” Belos supplies Hunter with blood and flesh but not enough to satisfy him, just the minimum to keep him alive. This is to keep Hunter at a state where he’s willing to do more work to earn more food but unfortunately this just results in cases of Hunter going “too far” aka mauling different beings (witches, beasts, demons, ect) during missions on the accounts he’s literally starving and being triggered in fights.

He can eat normal food but his sense of taste is bit dull and doesn’t give him the nutrition he needs. He can eat and eat and it will do nothing. He learns to satisfy himself through eating animals he hunts during missions. When he gets to the human realm he eats his food with an overwhelming amount of seasoning just to taste it.

He also has a very strong jaw and sharp teeth, like hyena type stuff.

(Imagine a scenario he pauses a mission mid way to go hunt some voles and eat them raw and the scouts just standing there like-)

After Hollow mind Hunter struggles because now he’s has little source of witch or demon flesh (he raids the healing classes for blood and kitchen for uncooked meat)

So during thanks to them he’s forced to live with three witches, a basilisk, two humans who are somewhat similar to witches and oh boy he struggles. His friends are concerned. Camila notices Hunter eats a lot but still looks like he isn’t gaining weight, Gus notices that he sneaks out, Vee smells something wrong with him, Luz sees how on edge he is, Amity catches on to his burst of aggression (caused by hunger and stress) and Willow notices he avoids them.

They all already knows something is off with him (heightened senses, unusual teeth and jaw strength, glowing eyes, unusually tight and powerful muscles despite how gaunt he is) but only Luz knows he’s a grimwalker but hasn’t quite put the peices that’s he’s a unnatural, natural predator to witches and demons. The witches, Vee and even the humans feel a slight primal fear around Hunter but they can’t quite put the reason why, he puts them on edge even if they love him but something’s off.

Despite the fact that all of them are willing to give him blood, even some flesh if they could, the boy just refuses, since he sees himself as a literal monster that needs to be locked up.

This is me giving Hunter Grimwalker trauma x100. Anywho this is my late Halloween post aka my billionth AU idea. This was inspired by Tokyo Ghoul, Ginger snaps(2000) and the fic [redacted] Hunter by ApaMonkey on ao3! Yall should read it!

I have a weakness for flesh craving characters who aren’t villains but they aren’t so common so of course I had to project that love to my own skrunkly!

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forwards-beckon-rebound · 25 days ago

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batfam as fanfic tropes pt 1

ft. bruce, dick, and jason pt. 2

bruce

child’s teacher x single parent i mean that’s literally him. but also i like the idea of exploring his partner’s relationship with his kids

i want somebody to write like a bruce x whoever fic (whoever it is isn’t that important but i’m just saying i do think superbat is fun) with that trope

some college au where like all the kids have taken one of prof kent’s class and they all think he should be their dad

because they don’t want to leave their new dad

they’re hyping bruce up without him even knowing during their office hours

“like yknow prof kent, my dad has a dinosaur”

“oh…that’s certainly…interesting? i’m not sure what this has to do with intro to investigative journalism though”

“you could investigate the dinosaur! actually, we always have a big thanksgiving dinner and our butler, alfred, makes the best stuffing. why don’t you come over and check it out?”

“i’m not sure that’s appropriate of me as your professor. also i’m not sure a dinosaur would be a suitable—”

“you could get an exclusive interview with gotham’s richest and most eligible bachelor? um and we’ll throw in some wayne enterprises secrets too”

“…what was the address again?”

also i think he just gives me enemies to lovers vibes

maybe it has something to do with his canonical relationships

dick

meet cute i think he’s the only one who’s smooth enough to make this not awkward

like it is sort of awkward because this man flirts using puns but i feel like he’s charming enough to make it work

“hey girl are you a booger because i would pick you first” and then rolls nat20

fake dating

i feel like he would agree to it whether or not he actually liked the other person. honestly he might come up with the idea himself

he’s a naturally flirty guy and if he didn’t have a crush on the other person before he’s going to be so smooth with it

but then he spends time with them and he finds himself slower falling for them?

and like even if he ramps up the flirting, maybe tries to be more physical or spend more time with them, he’s not getting his message across and now he’s shooting himself in the foot for agreeing to this in the first place (and not realizing his own feelings and making a move before all of this happened)

but also maybe he’s just dense because he’s not picking up on the fact that they are doing a really bad job at hiding their feelings for him too

ALTERNATIVELY he goes into it already liking them

he thinks he’s going to be soooo smooth and charm them off their feet and then boom they’ll be dating for real

but for the first time in his life he’s stuttering and not knowing what to do and it’s really annoying how even when he’s like that, or maybe because he’s like that, he’s just as cute as he always is

he’s just a lover boy

jason

friends to lovers man seems like he needs to really trust somebody and have an emotional connection with them before pursuing a relationship

also this man canonically cannot flirt and cannot pick up on flirting so i don’t really think meet cutes are gonna work

i’m just imagining they’ve been friends for a while

it took him a really long time to open up. slowly, bit by bit, he reveals more of himself to his friend until he can honestly say they’re one of the people who knows him best

i think one of his biggest fears is not being good enough, like he’ll scare them away with all of his baggage and flaws. every time they have a late night conversation he lets his guard down a little and tests the water. he’ll give them a crumb and see how it goes. honestly, he’s terrified of their reaction but when things go well, he can’t help but want to give them more of himself

i think he’s always had bigger things in his life to worry about other than romance

is he a hopeless romantic? absolutely, if his bookshelf is anything to go by. but i think in some ways he has removed himself from that possibility a long time ago and maybe doesn’t see how he could be at all like the people in happy, loving, stable relationships that he reads about

it’ll take him a long time to realize his own emotions, much less act on them

and because of that, i think

idiots in love would also fit him very well. sorry i just think this guy is emotionally repressed and stupid and if the other person doesn’t figure shit out i don’t think he will either

i sure am roasting him a lot for someone who has a blog dedicated to him

but anyways, i feel like it would take a push for him to confess. whether that be a life threatening injury to either of them or maybe they’re getting too close to another person. i think he would need to come to terms with the fact that he could lose them and then decide that he would rather take the risk than never try

don’t think he’s making a move until he’s at least somewhat sure that the other person likes him back though

this is the best case scenario though. depending on what stage of his life he’s in when he meets somebody he likes, it could very well end up as a

right person wrong time i feel like he's also the most self-sabotaging out of all of them

like even if he met his soulmate, i think what he needs is therapy, not romance and would inevitably end up hurting himself and his partner when it turns out his own issues get in the way of his relationship

like he can't actually be fully vulnerable, not able to balance his work and personal life because what he's doing is so personal to him, not being able to settle down, that type of thing

guys i swear i want him to be happy

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