#killer brows

[buckymorelikefuckme]

i’ve been watching those videos on youtube where those guys mow and clean up overgrown lawns and stuff (bc it’s calming and satisfying and my brain needs that so bad rn)

but it’s got me thinking…

you’ve just bought an adorable fixer-upper cottage, and the front yard and backyard are becoming miniature forests, so you call a few local lawn care services to see if anyone would be willing to take it on. you’re disappointed but not surprised when they all say no bc of how much work it’ll be. but then, the last place you call says sure, they’ll do it, and you’re so relieved and say thank you a million times. and then the guys show up to do the work, and…

i’m picturing ari, and steve, and maybe throw in my baby jake, and hell, might as well include curtis.

so you’re obviously like holy shit i’ve hit the jackpot??? and you’re quickly finding any and every excuse to be outside while they work. you offer to help, even though you don’t actually want to, and you’re half relieved half bummed when they politely decline. and then you bring out some ice cold water since they’re working in the blazing sun for hours on end. you ask them if they brought lunch, you could make something for them, it wouldn’t be a bother at all, please let me!

and tbh i don’t really know where i wanted this to go but just…. IMAGINE with me 😍🤤😵‍💫

[soullessjack]

I don’t think you guys understand how obsessed I am with these ugly ass puppets. I hate them. grieving the loss of your child by making the most hideous fucking thing ever oht of his gift toy. Okay John. you’re so normal for that guy.

[kaspie-going-krazy]

they put his higher brow on the wrong side

im crying lmao

[kissingonclouds]

Yeah im being self indulgent what of it. screw you

[goliadkine]

Office Killer, dir. Cindy Sherman, 1997

Thanks Dorine, you're a lifesaver!

[putuponpercy]

And then suddenly half the fandom was swooning over Scrooge

[tonycries]

BODY-ODY!

Synopsis. Jujutsu powers aren’t used just in fights…sometimes they’re there to make you absolutely lose your mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu techniques, INSANE Gojo, breéding, heats (Choso), spítting, cúmplay, marathon séx, slight jealousy (Toji), creampíe, canon Sukuna lactatíon, FÉRAL boys, ratio technique, limitless, extremely neédy Choso, exhíbitionísm (Geto’s), pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Hope y’all have a wonderful new week, I’m eepy so I will eep <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The p*ssy killer!

With Toji’s strength, it was inevitable that he’d break seven bed frames, three couches, and four desks. Unapologetically. 

And with the way he had you like this - splayed out like such a slut on your drenched silken sheets, swollen cock pistoning in and out of your sloppy cunt so easily in that mean mating press he had you folded in - you knew he was well and fully intent on adding to that list. 

“Toji-” you’re gasping over the protesting creaks of the mattress. “S’gonna…”

“S’gonna what, woman?” he rasps out, bringing his ears millimeters away from your pouty mouth. Not even stuttering, smooth taunts falling from his lips each time he bullies his fat length into you. “Can’t hear you over this- damn- bed-”

Another wrecked snap! of wood nearby makes you squeal urgently, clawing for mercy at Toji’s toned hips, “-break! S’gonna break!”

Dark brows furrow in sultry concentration, that tiny scar on Toji’s lips quirking up in a devilish taunt when he gifts another harsh glide of his fat tip against your honeyed g-spot. “Damn right m’gonna break you.”

You don’t get the chance to correct him - you didn’t even need to, because he knew what you meant. He knew. But it was just so fun to shut up those cute lil’ whines of yours. Wrapping two big arms around your thighs to hike them higher up his muscled shoulders, Toji chuckles when you get even more soaked at the feeling of his abs flexing against your skin.

“Heh…s’bad manners to lie, y’know.” Shivers run down your spine at his sweet little scold, only making his grin grow wider. “Ya like bein’ thrown around me like this? Pretending to care about some- fuckin’ bed when all you really want is f’me to ruin this cunt?”

He’s speaking with such confidence - bleeding out from his grunts and churning into each hurried, jagged rut of his cock against your gummy cunt. Using that inhuman strength from his heavenly restriction to maneuver your hips and figure out which angle has you making the sweetest noises. 

You narrow your eyes to meet his glassy one, “M’serious, th-the manager at the ngh- furniture store was concerned last time.”

This earns you a soft smack! right on your sopping slit, Tojis rough palm feeling over the bulge of his massive cock, the hole you were milking him with. Forming a glossy, possessive sheen down his wrist. “You dare talk about another man while m’fucking you like this, doll?”

And, honestly, that desperate wobble of your lips almost makes him feel bad for the way he’s teasing you. Almost makes him wanna cave in and fuck you slow and sensual to save both you and this bed you both had picked out only weeks prior. 

Almost. 

That is until you open your pretty mouth to snap, the words babbling out delirious and bratty. “Well maybe he wouldn’t make me hngh- b-buy a new bed every month.”

Oh. 

That does it. 

You keen when his movements come to a torturous standstill, painfully hard cock stretching out your plush walls to every ridge and curve down his cock. And you can’t help the way your pussy pulses at the low, visceral growl tearing from your boyfriend’s mouth. 

Teeth bared, back muscles flexing as he raises his head up, up, up-

SLAM!

In a split-second, one of Toji’s arms had come down to bang against the already-rickety headboard. Letting a few sluggish seconds of his absolutely animalistic gaze devour you from your dazed, widened eyes to the snug cunt that was sucking the soul out of him - before the bed frame sags on one end with a defeated groan. 

“Whoops.” his words come out in a feverish grunt, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. “Don’t worry, m’paying tomorrow when we buy a new bed, n’ I can ah- help this manager find you a new one.” A promise - an apology for later.

Still stuffed so deep inside you, he’s securing one arm around you, easily holding you snug against his toned body when Toji gets off the bed - with you hanging onto him in tow. Choking out a gruff, “But for now…”

“F-fuck you’re so deep-” your jaw slacks open to moan sluttily into Toji’s toned pecs, gravity making his greedy thick head slide in so deep to nudge at your cervix. Filling up every nook and crevice of your sweet spots. Molding your cunt to the shape of him. 

And the only response you get is a few sultry, lingering thrusts. His eyes only darting his hazy gaze around the room- shit, where was that desk again? Right, he’d broken it last week. And the loveseat- Ah, that was just last movie night. 

Well, with a low rumble vibrating from his chest, that’s all it takes for you to be spread so shamefully on the bedroom floor. 

Toji’s pushing your face to the cool hardwood, a toned thigh stopping your needy bucking hips, the other keeping your legs open for him to bully back into your hypnotic cunt. Sloppy. Going right for that rhythm from before. 

“Better cum before I break the floor too, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - BULLSEYE

“Ken~”

“No.”

“...p-please?”

“Nope.”

It’s been like this for far too long now - with you bent over your husband’s home office desk, being absolutely pounded into the various work documents he really should’ve been focusing on instead. 

Of course, there was the speckled yellow tie currently digging into your wrists, pinning them both behind you uselessly as if you were some elaborate sex doll for Nanami to plunge his achy cock into. Though, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

And he was holding back.

“B-but Ken–” you’re letting out a thick, sultry whine of his name. Teary lashes batting back at the towering man, “I promise I won’t run away this time.”

His response comes out as a rough grunt, “That was what you hah- said last time before it got too good.” A large hand coming up to thread between your tangled wrists, using the leverage to pull you back onto Nanami’s unforgiving ruts of his length. “And the time before that.” Spearing you about halfway along his swollen cock, he’s splitting your poor pussy open. “And the time before that. And right now.”

As if to test your little resolve, his free hand comes down to kiss your ass with a deliciously resounding smack! 

And he’s only humming in satisfaction with your absolute mess of a less-than-composed response. A low gurgle of Nanami’s name in your throat, legs trembling when they fuck down onto his thick cock. Down and up as much as you could, stuttering as if to run away from the burn.

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, my love. You got it.” he’s hushing your moaning cries, soft palm coming to soothe the sting - and the inevitable handprint. “Jus’ like I said- how are ya gonna handle the ratio technique if you can’t handle that?”

“I will.” Is your stubborn response - as expected. 

But to your surprise, your husband only grins, “Thought so.” Using the tie to pull your cunt back to grind deeper against him, “How about this, darling-” Nanami propositions, hips halting down to slow, shallow circles around your gummy walls. Swiping at the sweet spots he hits effortlessly, he whispers. Low and just aching for the type of trouble you always get him into, “-try not to run away before you cum this time  n’ I might consider taking off these for the next round.”

And then, there’s a sudden shift in the air. It suddenly becomes thicker, almost suffocating. You wince at the sudden feeling of atoms around you standing at rapt attention - before that expression is quickly morphing into one of such bliss when Nanami’s fat head slams straight into your g-spot.

Lingering, nudging against your sensitive spot just before it becomes too much before he’s reeling his hips back to do it again. And again. And again and again and-

“Ken ohhh fuck- oh my god-” you’re going cross-eyed, drool dripping down your mouth with how fucking good it felt. That divot at the gummy tip of his cock branding onto your bundle of nerves. “F-forgot how much I love your technique.”

“Oh, I know.” you can hear the grin in his voice over the crackle of jujutsu. Tugging harder on the restraints at your wrists, “Anything for my wife, after all.”

“Then would you hah- ngh- untie me so that I can touch my lovely husband?”

This earns you another gifted smack! to your ass, and an even harder jam of his thorough cock pistoned right at your magical spot. “Not a chance.” He’s absolutely ruining you from the inside out, and you feel like you’re melting with each expert graze of his veins against your honeypot of sweet spots - not missing even a single one.

Your ass is recoiling against Nanami’s sharp hip bones now, leaving a faint heart-shaped print on his hardened abs. Tufts of blond tickling your searing skin, twitching balls slapping against your forgotten clit.

“F-fuck.” your voice wobbles when his scarily accurate aim is making your ravaged cunt cry out in lewd squelches. Drowning out the strain in your voice when you whimper, “That all you got, Ken?” 

“Perhaps.” he huffs slyly against your ear, still pulling back on your restraints. “It’s real a wonder you’re not hah- runnin’ away, yet. Aren’t ya close?”

It wasn’t a question he needed to ask - Nanami could feel the way your slick walls were channeling around him, massaging and convulsing depravedly with each plunge. So fucking wet it was forming a lewd little puddle down to his heavy balls.

So ready.

So near. 

“I-I am.” you admit, gingerly shoving back onto his mean cock as much as you could. Somehow, every minute movement hitting at your weak spots, leaving stars behind your lids.

Oh how you wanted to buck away - the feeling too good that you wanted to run. Nails digging sharp grooves into the expensive wooden desk, knees weakening pathetically. Honestly, it was a wonder you weren’t falling on sorry legs on the floor right now - it wasn’t, because if you were in any better state of mind you’d have registered Nanami’s strong arm under your stomach, holding your entire weight up easily.

“Then cum.” he grits out, absolute need lacing his tone. “Cum f’me - and don’t run away, my love.”

So you do - and you couldn’t run away even if you wanted to. Because he’s securing a vice-like grip on his tie, holding your back flush against the sweaty panes of his muscled torso. Legs unable to move anywhere but back into him as Nanami fucked you through your high. 

Nanami groans at the feeling of you cumming all over his achingly hard cock. Squeezing and trying to milk out the fucking life of him. “Hah…how gorgeous f’me.” He kisses away those tears of overstimulation rolling down your face, though, he’s still nudging against your bruised sweet spots inside. “Now, s’time for you to hold up that bargain, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “T-the cult leader?”

That cute, wide-eyed little question of yours makes the gorgeous man in front of you chuckle. A deep, slow baritone that sends shivers right down to where he had you sat on the outline of his thick, straining erection.

“Of course I am.” he purrs against the shell of your ear, shuffling you around so the drenched excuse of your panties was making a mess on the damp spot at his leaky tip. “What about it?”

“Well then why-” you look over your shoulder at the rows upon rows of Geto’s cult members. Faces still, expressionless. Bowed at the waist to look at the floor - but still ever-present. Murmuring in confusion, “-why can’t you tell them to go?”

Another sultry smile. “Oh, gorgeous.” He swipes the tip of his fingers at your syrupy juices, promptly stuffing his mouth full of your heady taste. Moaning so hedonistically, “They’re here for you.”

And then Geto’s shuffling around the expensive robes of his yukata, having you bouncing precariously on his lap when he frees his achingly hot erection. So so red and angry. 

It’s all you can do to bite back your embarrassment when he’s dragging your sloppy cunt all over that veined length of his. Jolting when a hand of his smushes your cheeks together in a pathetic pout,  “Look at me.” he muses, dark dangerous eyes boring into yours. “They’re your welcoming party, after all. Don’t worry, you’re only mine to see n’-” Pecking at your lips in an innocently languid kiss, “-I’ll kill them if they look.”

Right as he says this, Geto’s slipping his fat head past your sopping slit, such a sinful expression of ecstasy taking over his delicate features at the first taste of your heavenly cunt.

“O-ohhh fuck.” he groans, hips coming up in bullying little thrusts to lodge himself inside. “Mmpf- my girl’s cunt feels s’fuckin’ good. How the fuck do you feel this good?”

You’re panting at the sheer stretch - the feeling of your puckering hole being split apart so blatantly - and for hundreds of others to see. Candied lips coming up to graze his in a messy clash, “My girl?”

Ah, just hearing those words echoed back to him has Geto thrusting up mindlessly into your plushy walls. A hand coming back to circle around your clit pooling your juices back on his addicted fingers. 

“Yes-” his long tongue darts out to catch those drops of your slick. Before diving back in again- and again and- “My girl. My pussy. And every one of these little worthless pigs are going to know that now.”

You could practically feel the wave of shudders that run through your audience. But a quick glimpse back showed that they all stayed firmly rooted to their spot, eyes trained on the luxurious carpet of Geto’s hideout. Whereas you were shivering for a whole other reason - because Geto’s lengthy fingers are back to toying with your poor cunt. 

Two of them spreading out your puffy pussy lips to show off how greedy you were being - the way your dripping cunt couldn’t do anything but milk Geto Suguru for each and every one of his delicious inches. Taking him so well as he pounded up lazily into you, making the fat of your ass jiggle with each calculated pump. 

It’s so filthy - so agonizing. 

He noses up your racing pulse, “Heh, I can tell ya liked that, pretty. You just go so much wetter, almost drippin’ onto the floor.” You weren’t - yet, simply forming a glossy mess of slick all over the cult leader’s distinctive robes. “So sloppy I bet they’ll see soon.”

“But you said-” you’re choking when a particularly hard thrust has you clinging onto his broad shoulders for stability. Fingernails blemishing his worshiped skin with red, raw marks gifted from you. “-said m’only yours to see.”

Oh, how he knew you’d be fucking fun.

There’s an almost reverent pitch in Geto’s throaty rasp, “You’re right.” As if seeing you for the first time - and he’s just ramming into you with a greedy grin. “So fuckin’ right.”

Geto’s dick is so girthy that it fills out every crevice inside your pussy that you didn’t even know existed. Balls a rightfully sinful side of heavy that made a loud smack! ripple throughout the otherwise deathly quiet room. 

“You’re mine.” he whispers, strained like he was losing a bit of his sanity with each press up against your spongy cervix. “N’ I should fuck you like you are.” Which had Geto teething down your jaw, your earlobe - sharp canines digging hard when he bites down at the crook of your neck. Enough to draw blood, to break skin, to have you screaming out for- mercy? More? But he’s already plowing on, “N’ everyone here will accept it.”

He lets out such a lovely moan in tandem with yours, head thrown back when his thrusts get untimed. Sloppy. Glistening with need and slick as you mewl, “S-Sugu m’close m’gonna cum-”

Bang!

You whirl your head up to see Geto with his free hand held out, eyes wide, crazed - glaring intensely at something over your shoulder. Something you don’t get to see, because he’d tilting your head back to his in a romantic gesture.

“Told you I’d kill them if they looked.” He breathes, over the distinct growling of his rainbow dragon. Kissing gently at your lips, the tip of his fat cock colliding into your g-spot. “Now, where were we?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Like an animal

There was something that no one in the jujutsu world spoke about the most advanced curses - something hidden. Something dirty. Something that had you crying out where you straddled Choso’s fat cock, big bulbous tears rolling down your cheeks, throat shot when he was stuffing your poor pussy full of his fifth orgasm this rut. 

“Please oh- please.” Choso whines, hips stuttering up into your gummy depths. Strong arms circling your waist to hold you still while his fat head paints your walls white with thick streams of his seed, “Take it- fuck fuck fuck jus’ take it for me.”

Each sloppy half-thrust is all he can manage to drag you through your own climax, lips falling into a soft oh! at the dredges of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his shaft. 

“Baby…” Choso starts, greedy eyes just devouring that sinfully creamy ring now forming around his soaked hilt. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, voice cracking at the end, “I think-”

And you know that tone. You know what it bodes for your sensitive cunt. Reminded that it’s currently that time of year for your poor curse boyfriend. When something dark, and primal pokes its head out. Aching to touch you, to breed you - killing him to make you his. 

So you’re gasping out in disbelief, “Cho- what! Again?” Scrambling to perch your hands on his pecs and sit up, “The heat’s still not done?”

You don’t get very far - because he pulls you back onto his body with a possessive tug. Looking up at you with big, teary eyes, “No.”

His syrupy words are coated in desperation, a few octaves higher than normal as he murmurs against your open lips. “N’ it’s a rut, baby. All m’gonna wan’ ngh- do is fuck this cute pussy.” he coos, a slick-glossed fist dipping down to squeeze out the last few beads of cum out of his base and into your overspilling cunt. “Don’t think I’ll ever be done- not until she’s properly bred. Not until- fuck m’not gonna- get out of this alive.”

As if he hadn’t just wrangled out another overstimulated high, Choso’s bucking his hips up sloppily into yours. Toned back arching off of the cotton sheets - soaked and absolutely ruined with pools of your sin. 

Over and over and-

“But Cho–” you babble out when his girth is thrashing back at those sensitive areas inside that he’s mapped out so many times before this. “I think I’m not gettin’ out of ngh- this alive.”

In his barely-lucid state, Choso’s taking this as a compliment, flashing a crooked, pussydrunk grin up at you. Face flushed a pretty pink, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead when he bats his heavy lashes, “Mhm.” 

Then he takes the opportunity when your lips fall slack in shock at his response to plant a steady stream of his spit. Missing purposefully to thumb away the splattered sheen of him along the corner of your swollen lips. “N’ you hah- not going out until g-get this cute pussy pregnant, m’kay?”

The notion is so dizzying that for a moment you don’t believe him. He doesn’t wait for your response - doesn’t have to. 

Back to his mind-numbing addiction of spearing your heavenly pussy on his angry cock. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

Again. And again. And again and again.

And he thinks you look so pretty like this - steady gushes of his cum dribbling down your shamefully spread puffy folds, thighs pathetically shaky trying to keep up with his frenzied tempo. 

A whiny ah! ah! ah! leaves your mouth with each kiss against your ravaged g-spot.

“Cho- I don’t think- ngh I can cum again-” your heavy lips part open to moan. Feeling so raw everywhere. “Are you really gonna-”

“Say it.” he begs. Two hands of his coming up to knead your sensitive tits, running his thumbs in awe over your puffy nipples. “Say it- say it please-” He’s attaching his pretty pink lips around one, cheeks hollowing while he sucks as if trying to draw out something delicious. “Please, ma.”

Fuck - you don’t know what you’re getting wetter at - the lil’ nickname or the way Choso’s dancing a hand down to draw sultry, purposeful circles. Syrupy slick saturating all over his toned pelvis with each ram of his hips.

You’re keening, “Are you fuuuuck jus’ like that- are you really gonna fuck a baby into me? Or die trying?”

“Let’s see…” he lets out a low drawl, quieting down to let your obscene squelches take over. Music to his ears, drunk off of every sound with every harsh piston of his hips. Loud. He gives your clit a hard pinch, grinning, “Yeah. My girl’s pretty cunt says I can.”

It only takes a few more hard crashes of his thick head against your sweet spots before you’re clawing at the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to hold onto an ounce of your sanity while you’re cumming and cumming and cumming so hard you can’t stop. Wave after wave of your high being dragged out of you.

And if you couldn’t stop - then Choso wouldn’t. Whispering praises slurring together and sticking against your mouth as he spills his potent seed into you once more. 

Wispy strings filling all the way at the back of your pussy while he fucks you through your high. Milking himself on you like some cocksleeve - addicted. Needing to breed you.

Which is why, when his spotty vision catches a trickle of his own seed out of your bloated pussy, Choso’s clicking his tongue. Thumbing your swollen folds further apart, he gives your clit a slow rub to wake up your droopy eyes. “Rut’s not over yet, ma.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Got milk?

“Tch. Stubborn lil’ thing.” the king of curses lets out a proud noise of disagreement - but you catch that tint of red on his high cheekbones, the way his swollen tip twitches wildly against your gummy walls. “S’not gonna work.”

The only response he gets is a cooing hum, your fingers dancing over Sukuna’s pecs to squeeze and grope at the curve of muscle.

So hypnotized with what you’re doing, it’s almost embarrassing for him. And all he can do is tighten the greedy grip he has on the fat of your ass, sliding your sopping cunt down, down, down until your throbbing clit scratches against those tufts of pink. Sitting so prettily on his throne.  

At the site of your lewd entrancement, Sukuna scoffs in frustration, “I told you, brat. I don’t know if you’re already fucked dumb on my cock but- ngh–” 

And oh the great Ryomen Sukuna whines - he whines, such a pretty noise that makes your elastic walls tighten around his rock-hard shaft. Rutting up deeper into your pussy so mindlessly mean when you wrap your pretty lips around one of his puffy nipples. 

“I know what you said, Kuna.” your voice sends vibrations all the way down to his needy cock. Leaky and angry where he was dragging inside your cunt. “But I also know what I heard.” Sucking. Harsh. “And a little birdie told me that someone can make milk-”

“Fuckin’ Uraume.” Sukuna spits, hips picking up the pace now that he has the answer he’s looking for. Long fingernails leaving neat little marks on your skin, “N’ you seriously believed that shit?”

And then he’s making your back arch more, kicking out your thighs even further to spread over the stretch of his girth. Fucking deeper and deeper until he was sure he was massaging at every inch of your walls. 

Managing through pure hissy rage to punctuate each ram of his shaft with threats, “Don’t believe that fuckin’ rumor I swear I’ll kill-” The words die in Sukuna’s chest when he’s snapping his pussydrunk head down at you - the same chest you were still pawing greedily at. “Oi, what did I tell ya?”

When you don’t make a move to remove yourself, he’s dancing a hand down to toy with your neglected clit. Forcing your dazed mouth to pull away. 

“I-I don’t know, Kuna.” you purr, still gasping for air. “Because-” You roll his raw nipples between your fingers again - desperate. Making him hiss. Glassy eyes snapping down to the way he was fucking you so filthy now. “-you seem to love this.”

And he can’t deny it - can’t make up any excuse for the way he was bouncing you along his fat veiny length like some cocksleeve. Pussy lips kissing him tenderly, thick head gliding across your cervix. Sinking into your drenched cunt so desperate. 

Yet, he grits out, “Won’t work.”

“Will.” you smirk, still teasing his pecs the exact same way he’d do with your tits. 

“Won’t.”

“Wi- hah-” your words are being gulped down by Sukuna’s sharp canines nipping on your lips. Drinking in your heady moans with every bullying thrust into your walls. Soft pads of his fingers thumbing at your clit, your puffy folds, pushing himself deeper and deeper. “You’re so unfair-”

That drags out a ragged grin from him, the wet smack of skin-on-skin music to his ears at this point. He’s wiping away the excess drool on your lips from your antics, “Maybe you’re just too gullible. So why don’t you hah- put that pretty mouth instead to-”

And then it happens. 

Your cockdrunk eyes manage to focus on that tiny, beading pearl of white at the very tip of Sukuna’s mouthwatering nipples. Without a second thought, you surge forwards, reattaching your lips with his ravaged skin. 

“O-oh fuck-” he shudders, fingers stuttering where they were drawing obscene circles on your clit. “Wait fuck oh- fuck fuck fuck, brat.”

That’s all it takes for him to cum. Balls squeezing so fucking painfully as Sukuna cums harder than he has in the thousands of years on this Earth. Mashing his cock into you, drawing out every lengthy spurt of his seed to paint your cunt white. 

“Take it-” You don’t know if he’s talking about his cum or his milk. “Fuckin’ take if you want it so bad.”

Each shrill profanity has him reaching deep into your gummy core, bowing his body further to your greedy mouth. The sobbing wet smacks of your lips having him humping you fast. Messy. 

And shit anyone would faint if they saw the infamous king of curses like this - if he didn’t kill them first, that is. 

You, however, his favorite lil’ human, was having the time of your life. Thick globs of cum smearing down your thigh, forming a slippery coating where you were sucking him through his high. Sukuna’s sweet sweet milk treacles down your lips, rich and syrupy. So much that it was spilling down onto lewd little puddles on the curve of your tits. 

“Oi, fuck you greedy little slut.” Sukuna coos at your ravenous pursuit, the way you were pinching at his pecs for more. “Don’t waste- ngh- any of it.”

And upon seeing that grin of yours - that devilishly smug, white-glossed smirk - Sukuna all but forces your lips to crash against his. Hips fucking up menacing - still so pointedly hard, while he tastes himself. “Don’t think m’not gonna make you pay back tenfold for this embarrassment, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Sanity? Optional.

You wondered just how high the kill count would be.

In the hundreds? No, you fear, when your boyfriend slams your apartment door open, eyes hooded, glowing. Barely getting a word out before he’s pouncing on you like a wolf starved, ripping off that useless excuse of shorts with only two fingers.

In the thousands? Probably not, you think, when he doesn’t waste a moment before shoving the entirety of his angry, leaking shaft into your sloppy hole. The only apology you’re getting for the moment being a few praises and whispers of “buying a new pair of shorts for you.”

In the hundreds of thousands? Maybe, you muse, when immediately Gojo is smearing his fat tip against your cervix. Sinking his way into your heavenly pussy to wreak havoc on you where he could be going out of control and destroying a few cities. 

“Nah, millions.” His slow, sensual purr is ringing in your ears, and you have half the mind to wonder whether Gojo had a mind-reading technique, too. Greedy lips dragging up to mouth over your thumping pulse. Dangerous. “Might just take out hah- this whole fuckin’ city if it wasn’t for this ngh- sweet pussy hypnotizing me.”

Each and every babble falling from Gojo’s candied pink lips are followed by some of the meanest thrusts. Having his tight balls smack against your ass, running his mouth as mindlessly as he’s fucking you into the living room couch he happened to find you in. 

You’re gasping when his long fingers come down to give your poor clit a buzzing tap! Sending sparks with the very dredges of his jujutsu. 

“T-Toru what happened?” you’re managing to gasp out, your ears popping at the pressure of the air around your two. “Why are you so-”

“Feral? Out of control? Maniacal?” he fires off, a devilish grin spreading with each suggestion. Eyes wide, tinged with an electric glow, voice breaking desperately as he plows on, “Absolutely fucking losing it?”

If either of you were in a better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the way that lamp on the edge of the coffee table exploded. Shards of glass flinging across the room and stopping short where Gojo had limitless poring over the two of you.

“Well, you see…” he’s humming so sing-song, large hands coming up to wrangle your thighs onto his broad shoulders. Gnawing down on his worried bottom lip when he’s trying to squeeze himself impossibly deeper inside you, “-I had a bad day.”

“That’s it!?”

Those startled words are bursting from your lips without any thought. And they have Gojo narrowing his eyes at you like a predator cornering his prey, teasing grin curling down into something almost garish.

He hikes a muscled thigh up, fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs. “Yes, that’s it.”

It’s quiet - barely audible, even - followed by a low thrust that reaches you all the way in the bottom of your pussy. Somehow bruising - Gojo’s fat tip clashing against your g-spot, your cervix, so hard it makes a broken whimper drag from your shot throat.

And this seems to jolt him back to his senses somewhat, that furiously depraved glint flickering in his summer blue eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.” he sighs, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy mess of teeth and spit. “Couldn’t stop hngh- thinkin’ about you all day. Couldn’t stop wanting- needing-”

He’s cutting himself off with a pained groan, back to having the soft pads of his fingers roll over your clit in humming, sultry circles. Little buzzes of his electricity going right through your veins. “Fuck, s’all I thought of even when- hah- fighting. Just you, my girl, waiting at home f’me to stuff you full of my cock.”

Sloppier. Incessant - just milking himself on the dripping channel of your cunt. Deep, lingering thrusts that have you missing him every time he’s reeling back. A few stuttering pops of bones have you spitting out slobbering little pleas into Gojo’s panting mouth, gummy walls sucking him in so good. Clamping down until it was almost difficult for him to ram into your greedy pussy. 

Honestly, whatever shreds of your rationality wondered how the fuck you two were still unharmed, still having no bones broken - it was because of his reverse curse technique, you later learn.

But for now all that was going through your honeyed, oversaturated mind was how full you were of him and only him - until you could barely even breathe-

“Hey hey now.” His words a smooth coo, not betrayed just how ragged his hips were. Another few smacks of his ruthless fingers right down your sopping slit have you wrenching your eyes back up at him. Your poor clit getting caught in the crossfire, leaving lewd smears glistening all over Gojo’s palm. The overhead lights flicker, illuminating little blue specks of lightning as he kisses gently on your forehead, “F-fuck- keep up, pretty.”

Somehow, you manage to gasp, “Keep up?”

“Mhm, because m’not fuckin’ done until I pass out.”

The words are pushing you over the edge, and before you know it, your velvety walls are squeezing around Gojo’s engorged cock so tight. So heavenly as he fucks you through your high - not even bothering to ease you into it, he couldn’t.

And it only takes a few silky whines of his name out of your mouth before he’s beading out pearly white spurts of cum. Overspilling into the snug channel of your pussy, thick seed gushing out as Gojo shoves it deeper and deeper to decorate your walls. His snowy brows knit together when he cums and cums so fucking hard it’s like something bursts.

And something did - every single lightbulb within a fifteen mile radius of your apartment. 

But you don’t notice, too caught up in Gojo’s syrupy sweet hum, “Well, m’not passed out yet n’ since the electricity’s gone I guess there’s only one thing to do, huh~”

A/N. LMFAOOO Toji acting like he can afford to buy another bed smh. Also the way Sukuna being able to lactate is canon?? Gege you hoe.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fruityumbrella]

ok awesome dare i say the sanji evildeathkilling spiral was perhaps jumping the gun. she'll be right 👍

[gladiatorcunt]

oooh art would be lowkey freaky. i feel like he’s also a super munch. he’ll let you sit on his face for hours!!

cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, ambiguous era, afab reader, slight brat!reader, teasing, like two spanks (+ one instance of ass play + very slight anal fingering)

Art devours you like no one else ever could, burying his tongue into your pussy for hours on end. If he could, he’d do it 24/7. He does it enough as it is away. As a wake up call, a way to say goodnight, in the shower, on your period, from behind while you’re cooking, in a pool chair, you get the gist. If you asked what he favorite sexual act to do with you was, there’s not a single doubt in your mind that it would be slurping up your pussy.

You’ve never sat on his face before though, too scared to break his neck after reading a story on your phone about that happening to someone else. It’d be a real mood killer to come down from you high to see your boyfriend dead to the world, literally. You didn’t talk about it again after the initial awkward discussion that ended with you dismissing it. But he just looks so hot in the early morning sun, a rare sleepy day in where you actually get to marvel at what Art looks like when he’s relaxed.

You bite your lip and shake him gently, trying not to shy away and curl up into a ball when he eventually groans and rubs his eyes open.

“Morning, baby.” He grunts in his husky morning voice.

He immediately puckers his lips for a kiss that you provide with less casual confidence than usual. His brow furrows, and he caresses the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

“What’s up? Are you hungry?” He asks you, thinking that you’re needing him to run and get you coffee or something.

You say no and play with your hands, the ache you’ve been feeling between your thighs only grows the more you look into his eyes.

“I just…. I need you.” You whisper.

Art squints his eyes, not sure what you mean. Then he recalls how he usually wakes you up in the morning, “Oh. You need me, huh?”

You nod and spread your legs, giving a view of your bare pussy. You took your underwear off earlier when the feeling got to be too much.

“Can you say it for me, angel? Tell me what you need and i’ll give it you.” He grins, teasing you. “If you woke me up, you must need whatever it is really bad.”

You roll your eyes and straddle him, sighing in bliss when he latches onto your hips. You’d put up more of a fight if you weren’t so horny, but you’ll let Art have his fun this time.

“I need you to eat me out.” You hold back the ‘obviously’ that you want to tack onto the end of your sentence.

Art’s grin widens and he makes you rock back and forth on his clothed bulge. He waist until you’re juices are wetting the fabric of his underwear before he pats your thigh, telling you to get off. You don’t budge and allow him to get into the typical position. Instead you lift your hips and shuffle up the bed until you’re hovering over his face.

“I want you to eat me out like this.”

Art’s grin falters as his eyes widen in shock for a second, you must really be pent up if you’re being this bold. He’s not complaining, he’d been waiting patiently for you to get comfortable enough to use him like a chair. You’re enough of a brat to change your mind if he acts too smug about getting what he wants even if you want it too though, so he tones it down.

“Get to it then, angel.” He smirks, his words trailing off into a satisfied sigh. “Give me a taste of this pretty pussy, don’t hold back.”

He flattens his tongue expectantly and leans his head back against the pillows.

Before you can even hesitate, Art snakes his arms under your legs and yanks your body down, making you drop your weight on him. You yelp but he doesn’t let you squirm away from his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lying still beneath you feels strange for a second, but a slap to your ass snaps you out of it enough to start moving your hips.

You shout and grab onto the headboard, getting yourself off on your boyfriend’s face. You play with one of your tits as you start to bounce on him, craving more of his tongue.

You reach down and tug on his hair, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. He hasn’t looked away from you this entire time, and your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the thought of how messy you already look.

He winks at you, not moving at all and letting you take your fill. Well that’s not what you want anymore, so you tug his hair harder and beg.

“Please, baby, just tongue fuck me already. Don’t you want to? ‘m getting tired…” You whine, pouting down at him.

You stop your hips when you don’t get an answer. Art’s eyes crinkle in delight at your predicament, but he gives in to you. He always does, you just don’t like when he puts you on the spot and makes you wait like this. Secretly you kinda enjoy how he acts in bed, but you like putting up a fight way more.

Art curls his tongue around your clit and you throw your head back. He gives the throbbing bud a few customary sucks and then he jabs his tongue into your wet hole. You moan and grab onto his hair, bouncing on him in time with his tongue’s short thrusts. You roll your hips down against the slick appendage and cry out when it hits the right spot, grasping onto the headboard for dear life.

“Oh my god, feels so good! Wanted you in my pussy, need you there, sucking me dry-what the fuck, yes!” You squeal, firmly keeping his face nuzzled into your pussy and your thighs around his head.

His hands are playing with your ass while he eats you out. You’re mid bounce when you feel one of his thumbs prod at your ass hole, and the barest hint of having two of your wholes filled gets you moving faster on him. He spread your cheeks wider and kneads the flesh, jiggling them in his hands.

Art responds in kind and slides his tongue around whatever parts of your juicy pussy he can, scooping up your juices and guzzling them down as he stabs his tongue through your sopping folds.

You’d normally pull him back by his hair when you got close, not wanting to get him too dirty with your cum. But now you’re tightening your thighs over his ears and and stuffing his nose into your trimmed pubic hair, bouncing like your life depends on it.

Art spanks you again when your walls spasm around his tongue thirty seconds later. He gulps your orgasm down with love in his eyes and a heartbeat in his dick. He coos at your soft sniffles and massages your trembling thighs when you get up and collapse beside him.

“Thanks for breakfast, angel, I’d rate it 5 stars”. He laughs, half jokingly and half seriously.

“Whatever, perv.” You weakly smack him on the chest and groan, trying to keep your soul in your body. “Go get coffee… please.”

[kiatoru-archived]

"toru", you whisper in a slight panic, reaching out in an attempt to find your snowy haired boyfriend in the dark. you glance at the alarm clock which reads 6:32 in blaring red lights.

"toru," you say again, this time more urgently. your hands working to untangle the sheets around the both of you and shake him awake. your palms press against his cool skin as you give him a gentle push before violently shaking him.

"what the f- baby? whats goin' on?" he groans tiredly as he's jolted from his sleep. you take about half a second to swoon over his groggy, sleepy voice before another crash sounds from downstairs and you jump slightly, clinging to satoru.

"did you hear that?!"

he furrows his brows slightly and nods, smoothly unwrapping you from him and standing up.

"i'll go see what it is."

you nod and stand up as well.

"i'll come too."

"what? no- there could be a serial killer or something."

"whats a serial killer gonna do against you?"

"thats not the point-"

CRASH!

the both of you jump and grab the other one. carefully, satoru leads you both out and into the hallway. all is silent before a quiet gasp is heard followed by a hush and muted giggling.

you and satoru exchange a glance before creeping down the stairs and peering into the kitchen.

"megumi, you gotta be quiet," tsumiki whispers, "we'll wake gojo and y/n up!"

"you're the one who keeps dropping stuff!" megumi insists, a small pout on the little boy's face. he stands on his tip toes, peering over the top of the stove into the pan of... something.

you cock your head and try not to gag as the smell of whatever's in the pan hits you.

"do you think they'll like their breakfast in bed?" tsumiki asks with an excited smile on her face. her brother just shrugs and adds way too much salt to their concoction.

your boyfriend turns to you with a panicked expression and mouths 'breakfast?!' you elbow him softly and motion your head towards the stairs. you both creep back up to your bedroom with a soft sigh.

"i am not eating whatever the hell was on that stove."

you fix him with an icy glare.

"satoru gojo you will eat what those children have made for us and you will like it."

true to your word, an hour later when tsumiki proudly presented a tray of... breakfast , if you could call it that, with a sullen megumi in tow you both acted pleasantly surprised and choked down the food gratefully.

[writingfromasgard]

Price's woman being an absolute terror for the boys. It's not that she's mean.. she's strange. She knows too much about topics she shouldn't. Price is too good of a soldier to let those details slip and he always said he never brings home work.

One day they're having a 'family' dinner, whiskey included. You're perched on Price's lap (because the boys are taking up the couch and your chair) and they're all watching a crime show you put on - NCSI.

You snorts, "that chemical doesnt even react that fast. It would take hours to even leave a chemical burn at its most concentrated levels.."

Ghost pauses, beer almost to his lips. "How do you know that?"

"It's basic Chem. It has a mild acidic effect but not enough positive hydroniums to be corrosive to human skin." You explained.

Gaz's brow raises next, "I never learned that."

Price chuckles, rubbing your back. "Doll, I think you watched a documentary on that. It's a bit above board."

"Oh." You pause, "well yeah, positive hydroniums are why things are acidic.. when the negative hydroxyls are outnumbers."

"You'd make a good demolitionist." Soap adds, grinning.

"I'd make a better serial killer." You laugh, taking a sip of Price's beer.

[ragingbookdragon]

Whoever decided to ring her doorbell in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm was either a serial killer or a poor soul stuck out in the rain. Either way, she still felt sorry enough for whatever poor bastard was stuck outside and decided to open the door, but her expression dropped into annoyance when she saw the man leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gazing at her. “Long time no see.” She starts to close the door and he sticks his foot in it. “Wait, please, don’t close me out.”

“Like you did to me,” she retorts, opening the door. “What do you want, Simon?”

He glances back towards the rainy street and hefts his rucksack higher on his shoulder. “To stay the night.”

“Seriously?”

“Please?” He begs and she pauses—Simon Riley wasn’t a man who begged often.

She gazes at him a moment longer before sighing and opening the door. “Clothes and shoes off at the door. Mask too. You’re soaking wet.”

“What gave you that ‘int? The rainstorm?”

Turning, she shoots him a glare. “I’m letting you stay the night despite you breaking my heart. I’d be a little less sarcastic.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to strip his clothes as he shuts the door behind him. He hands her his clothes, standing in his boxers, then cups the front of himself and asks. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of my clothes shoved in the back of your closet…would you?”

“Bottom drawer in the chest of drawers.”

“You kept my clothes? Aw, you still car—” he falls silent when she glares at him. “Going now.”

As she disappears into the laundry room, she calls out, “What did you do, walk here from the base? You know Birmingham has cabbies, right?”

“I’m not wasting money to drive twenty minutes when I can walk within an hour.”

“You know you’ll get sick from this.”

“Wive’s tale. Can’t get sick from the rain.”

“Smart-ass,” she retorts, shoving his clothes in the dryer.

He comes around the corner, leaning against the doorway with a hand towel thrown over his shoulder, short blonde hair sticking up in all directions, evident he’d dried off with it.

“That is a decorative towel, not for use.” She glares at him. “You know that too.”

“You moved the other towels.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” she mutters, then looks at him, eyes trailing down to where the sweatpants hung low on his hips. “Put a fucking shirt on, floozy.”

“I couldn’t find one,” he replies with a small smirk. “You must’ve used ‘em for fuel for the fireplace.”

She stands up straight and walks up to him. “Why are you here, Simon?” Her voice is quiet, calm, waiting.

He looks down at his feet, shifts his weight and murmurs, “Missed you.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

“You start going to therapy yet?” She asks and he purses his lips.

“SAS doesn’t exactly offer therapy, y’know that, right? Not exactly ‘ow we operate.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You know I asked that friend of yours, what was his name? Soap? He said that the SAS offers routine psychiatric care and therapy. He also happened to mention you conveniently manage to get out of it every single time.”

Simon lets out a grunt and pinches his brow. “Soap can’t mind ‘is own fuckin’ business.”

“He’s your friend. And he was also drunk.” She waves a hand. “Regardless, you haven’t done the one thing I told you that you would have to do if you wanted to come back—no, when you came crawling back.”

“I don’t need therapy. I just want a second chance.” He shifts to his full height, looks at her with a pleading look. “Things were good between us, love. You know they were.”

“Sure, when you weren’t shutting down when you were hurting emotionally or running off to God knows where when you had a mission and didn’t leave me a notice.”

Simon sighs. “I was protectin’ you. I didn’t wanna drag you into all the shit I ‘ave to deal with on a daily. I didn’t want you to have to put up with…all of…”

She gives him a hard look. “Simon Riley, what part of me gave you the notion that I ever need to be protected or sheltered from what you do?”

He swallows thickly and gazes into her eyes. “Love…you’re too pure for me. What I do…you don’t need to know the horrors I’ve committed. You’re…you’re too beautiful for such things.”

“You mean how you kill people with no emotion? How you’ve taken lives with your bare hands? How you shove so much of yourself down into the black hole until there’s no humanity left but ‘Ghost’, the hollow killer?”

Simon stares at her, throat bobbing as he replies, “I can’t drag you to hell with me, it would kill me, love. What if—”

“Do you know the moment I knew I was in love with you?” She interrupts and he falls silent. “I was sick that one day a year ago, bad sick. And you told me not to go into work, but I didn’t listen and when I came home early, I could barely walk straight.” She places a hand on her hip. “And you helped me into the bathroom. Ran a bath in the dark, lit a few candles and you bathed me. Washed my hair. Took care of me. You were so gentle and so loving. Like a priest tasked with cleaning his alter, you cleansed me and made me feel safe.”

He shifts uncomfortably but his body language is anything but repulsed; it’s soft. “You started cryin’ when I was washin’ your hair. Thought I got soap in your eyes. But you said you just felt so loved.” He smiles then. “You were like a kitten really. Could barely lift your head. So tired and weak.”

“Mhm. And then you tucked me into bed and crawled beneath the covers with me. Laid up beside me, never once acted sexual. Just…caring.” She looks at him. “Do you remember what I said to you before I went to sleep?”

“No,” he mutters but he looks up at the ceiling and she knows he’s lying, it’s his tell-tale sign.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt and closes the distance between them, lays her hands on his chest, and says, “I said, ‘This is the real man beneath all that coldness. The real Simon. The one I knew I loved more than anything. No matter what.’”

Simon shudders beneath her touch, feels weak in his knees like he might drop to his and worship at her feet, beg for forgiveness like a sinner in confession. His chest aches, tightening as the words tear violently at his chest, a reminder that he left one of the only good things to ever come into his life, all because he was too afraid to let the walls come down, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to risk being hurt—because if she hurt him, he’d never come back from it. In the end, he’d felt like a fool trying to protect a damsel who never needed saving in the first place; and he was left with the realization that she’d been protecting him the entire time.

“I know what you do, Simon. I know it’s hard, even if you don’t think it is. I know that no matter how you push your humanity down into that hole that it’s still there. I know killing someone takes something from you every time but, Simon, I’m not your enemy. I love you.” Her eyes are calm, but her voice is firm. “And I will not stand on the outside of the lines under some guise of protection. You either be upfront and honest with me about everything or you leave, and you don’t come back.”

Simon knows she’s asking him to choose now, and he feels that creeping anxiety rise in his throat like bile until he manages, “Can…can we talk about everything in the morning?”

She sighs and pulls her hands away. “Yeah, I guess so. Sheets and blankets are in the hall closet. You know where the couch is.”

“You’re not going to let me sleep in the bed?” He sounds incredibly offended.

“Couch, Riley.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but he can’t help but smile when she sets the bedding out on the couch for him. “Goodnight, love,” he murmurs as she passes, and her shoulders tense and she waves a hand.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He sits on the couch for a few moments, watches the rain splatter against the window, the clock ticking on the wall, before he pulls out his phone and simply types, “I love you,” and sends it.

It’s quiet for a solid ten seconds before he hears, “You absolute bastard!” From the bedroom followed by, “Get in here!”

Simon gives a victory dance as he clears his throat and attempts to look innocent as he steps into her bedroom; she glowers and points to the other side. “You’re on that side.”

“You can make me,” he retorts and crawls into the middle of the bed, groaning when all the bones in his body snap and pop.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to her book, but after a moment, she shifts against the headboard, getting comfortable again. Simon lifts his head, watches her, then he moves and lays his head in her lap, his arms wrapped around her hips under the pillows behind her. Her eyes rise to the wall in front of her and she stares unamusedly at it before she switches the book into her other hand and rests her right hand at the back of his neck, gently thumbing the juncture of his spine and skull. He groans beneath her touch, shifts himself so that she has control over moving him, body going slack when she scratches her nails into his scalp.

“You’re like a cat,” she mutters, feeling his lips turn up against her thigh.

“Meow,” he mimics, and she snorts, feeling him move until his head is pressed into her stomach, face turned so she can see the right profile.

He watches until she puts the book down on her nightstand and turns into him; they gaze at each other, and his eyes gently shut when she cups his face, thumbs brushing over his features.

“You know I’m giving you another chance, don’t you?”

Simon swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “…yeah.”

“But we’ve gotta change. Or else we’ll end up back where we were before we broke up.”

“I know.” He opens his eyes and looks at her. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmurs, bending down to press her lips to his forehead. “Doesn’t feel the same without you haunting my apartment.”

His lips turn up in a smile as she pulls back and lays on the pillows; Simon rises and crawls up her body, his nose brushing hers as he whispers, “I’ll do better for you. I’ll change. I swear it.”

“Yeah?”

His gaze turns solemn in a way she’s never seen before as he replies, “On their grave, I will.”

She smiles softly at him, pulls him down so his face is tucked in her neck, and replies, “Get some sleep.”

“I love you,” he mutters against her warm skin, arms tucked safely around her, body weight comfortably on her. “I love you more than the world.”

“I love you,” she says back, reaching up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 2

In which sexy construction worker!Rafe who spends his days lifting heavy stuff and building shit (his words) and driving shy!reader home shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

Hi! this is a part two to this (also this whole story was originally supposed to be just a small blurb consisting of a few silly sentences but then I got a bit carried away :D) anyways hope you enjoy xx

part 3 part 4 part 5

cw: construction worker!Rafe being a tease, slight somnophilia, smut (dry humping, dirty talk, p-in-v, unprotected sex)

wc: 2.7k

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

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment. 

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her.

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) and she finally opens the door, albeit gingerly, mentally preparing to face a serial killer. However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her.

”Oh, hi. What are you—  what are you doing here?” A surprised look paints over her visage. 

”You forgot this in my car, thought you might need it back,” he’s grinning, holding out a phone to her, pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to. 

”Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features. 

”Yeah, couldn’t exactly call you,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke.

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance. 

A worn out t shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it. She’s not wearing anything else. He’s trying not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair, swallowing nervously under his attention. 

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never actually ended up fucking her when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for a week after the particularly long shift she’d just had. 

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder, thumb smoothing over the material of her shirt, letting her rest in tranquility. Telling himself he could be patient with her, not wanting to rush anything. 

However, she’s not making it very easy for him right now when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her. She looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms and slump down on her bed, crawling under crisp sheets and feel how her lungs expand against his chest. 

”Sorry, did I wake you?” He carefully asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber. 

”No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer, not wanting him to go yet; finding immense comfort in his assured presence. 

”Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” She clumsily offers. 

His brows raise, surprised at her proposition. She’s being uncharacteristically bold; his mouth twists into an amused simper.

”Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and just wanna go home, sorry, I don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown familiar with. 

”Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold, taking a look around her cozy home. Leafy plants adding greenery to the small space and picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls. It’s cute, he thinks. 

She sets a steaming mug in front of him on her kitchen table and sits down next to him on a wooden chair. He’s definitely not staring at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up the tops of her thighs, allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out. He clears his throat. 

“You often have trouble sleeping?” He tries to focus on something else, anything else, taking a slow sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process. 

”Yeah, sometimes. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. I try to fall asleep but the loud noises of the customers talking and the clinking of plates and spoons keep replaying in my head and suddenly I’m wide awake, you know?” She explains. 

”I’m sorry, is there anything that helps?” He prods. 

”I don’t know, I guess just trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out.

”Oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re just using me in order to fall asleep?” He teases, grinning when he manages to drag out yet another giggle from her mouth. 

”Yeah, I suppose I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she looks at him. 

”Should I feel offended right now?” He jokingly scoffs. 

”No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.”

And he thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy, she’s a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self would be, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape the gaps of his teeth. 

”You into cuddling?” He asks, profound aquamarine locking with her rounded eyes. 

”Uh— I mean, I probably would be if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond.

”Wanna cuddle with me?” He says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent to this whole situation while she feels dizzy, dazed mind reeling and vivid heart tingling in her ribcage.

”Really? You want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?” She seems taken aback by his proposal.

”Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” His brows crease.

”Yes, of course we are, I just-”

”Look, all I’m saying, is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having something else to focus on and shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this; he’s simply trying to help. ”You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees and swiftly gets up on wobbly feet, almost falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, grounding her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at his sudden proximity. 

”Easy there, Sweetheart,” he chuckles against her hair, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him amusing. 

”Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks. 

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle, caging her in with gentle fingertips toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter closed. 

He’s so warm and big making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again. 

”You good?” He murmurs next to her ear. 

”Mhm,” she blissfully croons, letting out a content exhale. 

Her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy and the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy. 

”Sweet dreams,” is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a crepuscular dormancy. 

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

She’s lethargic in her movements when she rouses from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in. Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his and it’s murky in her unlit bedroom; the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots in her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space. 

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what has woken her up. 

Then she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass. There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization. 

He’s hard. Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more.

She swallows. 

What is she supposed to do?

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low groan, rumbling deep from his firm chest; grip tightening around her smaller form. 

”Rafe?” She calls out.

No response. 

”Rafe? Wake up.” 

Still nothing.

She can feel him breathing heavily against her hair; pawing at her hips every now and then, trying to pull her even closer, even if they’re already effectively glued together and there’s absolutely no means for her to move. 

She’s starting to become sticky between her thighs as he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in a stupor. 

She mewls when her clit throbs, pestering for some sort of friction. And that’s when he finally stirs, the weight of his arms loosening like a tight knot unfurling and her lungs are finally able to greedily suck in brisk air. 

”Shit, sorry, my bad” his tone is gravelly and at that, some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides.

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects; her face heats up.

”It’s uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries,” she rambles because what the fuck is she supposed to say?

”No, it’s fully my fault, just had quite a nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse.

”Oh. What was it about?” She inquires, yawning, perhaps too curious for her own good. 

”You wanna know?” His brows raise, surprised.

She hums. 

”Well, there was this really pretty girl, and she had me in her mouth and was letting me do whatever I wanted to her,” he murmurs with a heady tone overlaying his response. 

”Oh,” she tries to appear indifferent, although there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom from the damp soil in the pit of her stomach at his words. 

He chuckles at how oblivious she is. ”You’re silly sometimes, you know?” He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here with him?

”What do you mean?”

”Nothing,” he shakes his head, smiling to himself. 

”So, what else happened?” ”What else? Okay, then she let me do this,” he says at the same time as he grabs her hips again, pushing against her, earning a faint whimper from her when she can feel how big he is through the thin fabric of her underwear.

”Rafe…what are you doing?” She manages to ask through a whine; his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs. 

”Got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” He mutters, shallow.

”I— what are you— what are you talking about?” Her brain is foggy and she’s not able to think straight when he’s so close. 

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing the retelling of his dream. ”Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper. Her inhale gets stuck somewhere along the way when he paws at her hips, shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock and he lets out a heartfelt grunt when she moves her achy cunt over him. 

”You like this? Such a needy little thing, yeah?” He helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips; dragging her against his cock, filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them. 

”Rafe, can you…” 

”Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” He says as he slips a hand in her panties, fingers petting at her puffy clit and a loud moan leaves her when she lifts the fabric of her shirt up in order to have a better view. 

”Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Getting real fucking wet from me just being close to you, yeah?” His thumb rubs lazy circles on her sensitive button, making her cry out his name as she presses down harder against his cock.

”Shit, gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that. You wanna know what else was in my dream?”

She nods, frantic. 

”I pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. ”And then, I did this,” he mutters as he takes himself out from the confines and her eyes round out as she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head of his cock on her clit, one, two, three times, and then smears it on her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt. 

”Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean, pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out, turning her into a whimpering mess. The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked down to where they connect, fascinated. 

”Fuck, Sweetheart, does that feel nice?” He asks, swiping a thumb over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper, forcing a loud noise to leave her throat. 

”Feels so good, Rafe, I think I’m gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him. 

”You’re gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his face, nudging his dick about halfway in and out, never fully plunging it inside of her though. 

”You feel so good, I can’t— can’t hold it,” water droplets are gathering in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as teary eyes look into larimar and she rolls her hips against him, chasing after some sort of release.

”Shit, go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” He encourages her and she doesn’t need to be told twice; crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him.

”There you go, just fucking give it to me,” he grunts and all of a sudden he feels his own orgasm approaching; rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he stuffs his cock profoundly into her, to the hilt.

He stills inside her and then he’s groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim; making her feel so full. She thinks she could die happy right now. 

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing. 

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him, burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs. 

”Did so good for me, shit, we should do this more often, yeah?” He says with a sleepy tinge.  

And she’s completely out of it, head as empty as ever, merely managing an amorphous hum in agreement; tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

like the back of my hand | spencer reid x reader

wc: 1.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: needy!spencer, boyband reid loml, porn without plot, established relationship, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, mindless pwp tbvh....

a/n: had this one sitting in my google docs for a while so I finally decided to clean it up and post it. was worried about there not being any plot/story to this but my lovely friend meggie encouraged me to just send it. ily <3

You mean this with so much love, but Spencer Reid is needy.

To be fair to him, he is a twenty-eight year old who recently lost his virginity to you, but how eager he is to initiate sex is staggering. 

You’re lying in bed together at the end of a long day, both you and Spencer enjoying the quiet time to wind down. He’s finally home after a gruelling week away from you, all the way in Los Angeles to catch another serial killer. The nice thing about being with Spencer and getting to know him so intimately so quickly is that you feel so in tune with each other – both of you comfortable and content cuddling in bed and soaking in each other’s presence.

You’re sitting up against the headboard of the bed on your phone, while Spencer lays his head in your lap. You usually don’t pick up on things like this, but Spencer’s flipping through the pages of his book much slower than usual – which is still much faster than the pace at which you read, but it still has you concerned.

Your fingers run through his hair, fluffy and messy from having air-dried. “You okay, baby?”

“Hmm?” Spencer hums, sounding rather distracted.

“Something on your mind? You’re reading much slower than you usually do.”

Spencer looks up at you, blinking. His eyes are wide and puppylike, and you want to kiss him. Yet, his answer skillfully avoids your question. “I thought I was the one who usually keeps track of that sort of thing.”

“Well, yeah, but I couldn’t help but notice it. What’s up?”

Spencer sits up, looking away from you for just a moment as he considers what he should say. Then, “I wanna have sex.”

Your eyes grow wide, amused with his bluntness. Spencer usually is a little more self-conscious, a little more socially awkward, but all that seems to go away when he’s asking you to fuck. His one-track mind is fixated on you, especially when he wants you. You’re amused – he’s pushing thirty but he sounds like a monkey-brained college student when it comes to sex.

“Well, romance me first, then,” You say, giving in all too easily, because you often can’t say no to Spencer. Spencer smiles, his stupidly large hand cupping your face, and he leans in to kiss you. It’s sweet, romantic even in the mundanity of your current situation, and you hum as Spencer kisses you deeply. 

Spencer’s other hand trails around your waist, sliding down to grab your ass. You squeal against his lips. He hums, satisfied, pulling you close, grabbing whatever he can get his hands on. You laugh, “Needy.”

“Have you been romanced enough yet?” Spencer smirks, eager for you and your approval. He kisses your jawline, down your neck, like he can’t pull himself away from you.

You shrug. “I think you need to touch me more.”

Spencer’s brows raise curiously. “Now that I can do.”

Spencer cups your breast through your shirt, touching you all over with a reverence, an adoration, a desire that has your cheeks feeling warm. He leans in to press his lips to your neck, practically ravenous as he kisses down the column of your neck.

You’re turned on already, Spencer’s eagerness making you hot under the collar. You feel his hands roam over your body, making you feel special, wanted, desired. You don’t necessarily feel sexy in your oversized t-shirt and sweats, but the way Spencer kisses you makes you feel like you are – or at least, you are to him. 

“Spencer,” you gasp against his lips, as you feel his hands slide underneath your shirt, his calloused hands on your skin, the slight roughness of his fingers making your hair stand on end as he touches you. Spencer flicks his thumbs over your nipples, gropes you just a little. It makes you moan.

Then, Spencer’s hands slide down to your waistband, and he looks up at you for your approval. You nod, shuddering when the cool pads of his fingers press against the warmth of your skin, dipping past your sweatpants and underwear. You sigh, as Spencer easily pushes them off. You get comfortable with the pillows behind you, Spencer easily making his way between your legs. 

He kisses your thighs reverently, the slight stubble on his chin and his lips on your sensitive skin feeling ticklish. Still, Spencer’s hands are firm on your legs, firm in holding them apart. You shudder as you feel Spencer’s breath on your skin. He’s so gentle with you it makes you feel lightheaded. 

“Spencer,” you moan, when he wraps his lips around your sensitive clit. You’re so wet already, heightened by the feeling of Spencer’s mouth on you. You watch his jaw flex as he laps at you, mouth moving as he eats you out sweetly. It’s almost ritualistic, the way his eyes flutter shut, the hypnotised trance he enters as he goes down on you. 

You wouldn’t say you had a high sex drive, at least not until you met Spencer. Spencer didn’t seem like the kind of guy either, his nerdy, slightly awkward exterior making you very quick to assume that he would be a little awkward with sex. And sure, he was, when you first slept together, but now that he’s absolutely comfortable with you, he’s unashamed in wanting sex – wanting you. And his brazenness turns you on, which leads to the two of you fucking a lot.

You dig your nails into his scalp as Spencer flicks his tongue over your sensitive, hard clit, his motions relentless, eager, wanting to push you over the edge. You cry out with pleasure, watching the way he eats you out with a sense of pride, proud that he’s just so into it. 

You feel his hot breath on your cunt, hear his quiet moans as he pleasures you. You watch as he grinds against the mattress, just slightly, using the friction to get himself off too. 

“Darling– Baby, can- Can I fuck you?” Spencer’s voice is muffled against your cunt. He sounds desperate, needy, distracted like he can’t take his mind off of it. 

You whine, pushing your thighs to squeeze his face just slightly, like you can’t bear to let him go. You feel Spencer’s tongue retreat, missing the warmth on your pussy, and then he’s coming back up for air. His face is wet with your slick, and his big, wide eyes are staring up at you. “Please?”

You pout slightly. You can’t deny him, not when he looks like that. 

You tsk, rolling your eyes playfully. “Fine. You better fuck me as good as you eat me out.”

“I will! I will,” Spencer answers enthusiastically, eager as he fumbles with his pants. When his cock bobs up against his stomach, you giggle, amused with how eager he is for this– for you.

“Oh, you want me so bad,” you tease, unable to stop the grin on your face. 

Spencer smiles, sheepish. “I do. So badly, baby.” He cages you in, his tall frame making you feel so small, and his curly hair is messy and all over the place when he leans forward to press his lips to yours.

You whimper when he kisses you hard, eager and needy, and all you taste on his lips is you. Still, the way he makes out with you is dizzying, so intensely hot, and you don’t even care that you taste yourself as he practically eats your face. 

“Spence– Baby–” You barely get the words out between Spencer’s mouth on yours, but you wrap your legs around his waist and try and pull him closer to you, hoping that his horned-up brain will get the message. The motion bumps his cock against your soaking-wet cunt, and the both of you shudder at the sensation. 

With his lips kissing down your jaw, your neck, Spencer rocks his hips against you, sliding his cock along your wet folds, your hole leaking slick to make everything even more messy. His tip bumps against your swollen clit over and over, as he ruts against you like a horny teenager instead of actually fucking you. The friction is delicious, so good, but not what you or him actually need right now.

You groan. “Sweetheart, come on–”

“Mm?” Spencer hums, distracted. He’s never had this short of an attention span, but you suppose pussy tends to slash his genius. 

“Fuck me,” You bite, no malice in your voice. “Properly.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Spencer mumbles, only pulling away from you to look down at where your bodies are pressed together. He grips his cock before pressing himself against your entrance, his hands shaking with his eagerness to touch you. Spencer slides in with relative ease, considering how wet you are, and you whimper as the thick head of his cock pushes inside of you. 

Spencer kisses your cheek sweetly as he presses inside of you, the slow drag of his cock against your walls so perfect. He fills you up perfectly, feeling like he’s made for you.  

He fucks you hard and fast and messy, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you downright obscene. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into pounding into you, desperate to make both of you feel good. When Spencer gets like this, you know he’ll stop at nothing to get there.

Every one of Spencer’s thrusts hits deep inside of you, making you feel so damn full. Your arms come around to cling onto him, shaking with the force of his thrusts. “Spence–! Baby, oh, fuck!” 

He grunts, a needy little noise, panting in your ear. “You’re so tight. Oh, you– You feel so good, please–”

You sob as he fucks into you hard, unrelenting, so eager to make you feel good while he chases his own pleasure. His brows are furrowed in concentration, sweat beading at his temple, and his gorgeous hair is in his eyes, bouncing with each hard thrust. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer rambles, in between fucking you and kissing you literally everywhere, like he can’t get his lips off of you. “You’re so perfect. I love you.”

“You only say that when you’re inside of me,” you laugh breathily, clearly joking. 

Spencer grumbles, a low sound in the back of his throat. His mouth stays on your neck, and you feel his teeth graze against your skin. You feel him suck a spot into the column of your neck. “Don’t say that. I always tell you that I love you.”

“You do,” you giggle, holding him close, running your hand through his hair. “You always tell me how pretty I am too, don’t you?”

“You’re breathtaking,” Spencer says, sounding a little winded, since the only form of cardio he gets is sex with you. “Literally.”

“Okay, I love you so much, but I don’t know if your puns make for great pillow talk, honey,” you smile, kissing his cheek. “Now make me cum, love.”

Spencer grins, absolutely smitten by you. “Yes, ma’am.”

[rbfclassy]

SCREAM FOR ME! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...as you get ready for a Halloween party, you don’t notice a strange man watching you from across the street, waiting for the perfect moment to sneak into your house and play a little game

INFO...ghostface!toji x fem!reader, dark content, toji is a serial killer, stalking, intruding/home invasion, fear play, knifeplay, choking, pet names (sweetheart, baby, slut, good girl), ripping/cutting clothes, slight nipple play, blood play (toji licks your blood), praise, degradation, slapping, cutting your skin/marking, squirting, fingering, hair pulling, overstimulation, breeding, dacryphilia, dumbification, finger sucking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You hummed along to your playlist as you sat at your vanity, dipping the mascara wand into the tube. You carefully applied the product on your false eyelashes, just to help lift them a little more. It was Halloween night and you lucky for you, you were invited to a Halloween party by your best friend. Of course, costumes were required. Though it was frigid outside, you still opted for the slutty costume—a bunny. It was basic, but it was the cheapest costume you could find. Anything that was above your price range was not worth it, especially if you’re only going to wear this once a year.

Applying the lipgloss to your lips, you cleaned up around the edges, making sure it didn’t look too messy. It was your first night going out in a while, and it’s been quite a while since you’ve slept with anyone too. You were hoping that tonight would be the night you’d bring someone back to your place, it was Halloween night after all, everyone is down for something. Screwing the top of the lipgloss back on, you threw it somewhere across your messy vanity before standing up from your seat, quickly running over to your closet to look for your bunny ears.

You were too busy trying to look all pretty, too busy getting dressed up to impress, that you didn’t notice the man standing across the street looking right into your bedroom window. He watched you, watched your every movement like a hawk watches its prey. He was hidden behind the tree, leaning up against the rough bark. He wasn’t too worried about anyone questioning him, it was pretty late at night and all the trick or treaters were tucked into bed, houses dimmed of light. Everyone was sound asleep, everyone except for you. He’s had his eye on you for quite some time, first noticing you at the grocery store, then at the park, then now in your home, in your slutty bunny costume as you got ready to go to some stupid party.

He’s been following you for weeks now, keeping tabs on you. He was even in line behind you one time, making sure to memorize your phone number when the cashier had asked if you had a rewards account with them. He saved it in his phone the moment he got into his car before following you home. How stupid you were to go out on a night like this. Don’t you know about the killings going on in the city only a few hours away from you? Didn’t you care about your safety? Clearly not. And clearly, to him, you were the perfect choice. He crossed the street to your house, slipping into the backyard where no one would see him.

“Finally,” you huff as you grabbed your bunny ears, slipping them onto your head, making sure not to mess up your hair. You walked over to the mirror, checking over your outfit one more time before your phone began to ring. Excitedly, you ran over to answer it, assuming it was your best friend. “Hey!”

“Hello,” A deep and gravely voice spoke. Your brows immediately furrowed at the unrecognizable voice and you pulled the phone away from your face to see it was an unknown number.

“Uh, who is this?” You asked, slowly walking around your room.

“I could ask you the same,” they responded.

“Listen, I think you have the wrong number.” You hung up, tossing your phone onto the bed. As you walked over to grab your heels, your phone began ringing again. The unknown number displayed on your screen again as you stared down at it. Quickly, you pressed the decline button and went to putting your heels back on. Not even a second later, your phone was ringing again. With the roll of your eyes, you snatched your phone off of the bed and answered it. “Can you stop calling? I said you had the wrong number!”

“Do I, y/n?” Your eyes shot wide as you quickly stood to your feet. The sound of this persons voice sent chills right down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

“How do you know my name? Faye, if this is you, I’m gonna fucking kill you!” You slightly shouted, stomping over to your window, only to see the street was empty and her car wasn’t there.

“This isn’t Faye,” they chuckled.

“Who is this and how do you know my name?” You clenched your jaw as you slammed your window shut, locking it and pulling the blinds down. You started to grow paranoid, pacing back and forth in your bedroom.

“Me knowing your name should be the least of your worries.” The smirk was evident in their voice, almost like they were toying you, finding fun in the fear they struck into your heart.

“This isn’t funny, Faye! Haha, yeah it’s Halloween, you got me motherfucker. Now, cut the bullshit!” You spoke angrily.

“That’s not a nice name to call someone. You should know better. If you don’t play nice, then you’ll deal with the consequences,” the nearly said in a whisper.

“Fuck you!” You hung up the phone and immediately went to text Faye. The sound of the ringtone filled the silence of your room as you sat and watched your phone ring, chest heaving up and down and as you began to panic. “What the fuck do you want?!”

“I just want to play a game, that’s all,” he chuckled.

You spoke through gritted teeth, “what game?”

“Hot or cold,” he bluntly answered. “Right now you’re cold.”

Blinking several times, you let out a shaky breath as you placed your hand on your doorknob, slowly turning it, preparing for who or what could be on the other side. You clenched your eyes shut, silence on the other end of the phone as you swung the door open, only to be met with nothing. Standing there in your door way, you scanned the open area of your house, living room quiet as a mouse. Quickly, you darted over to your front door to make sure it was locked, which it was. “Still cold.” The deep voice caused you to jump.

“What…what am I looking for?” You hesitantly asked, stepping away from your front door. The wood creaked under your feet, careful not to trip in the heels you were wearing.

“Don’t worry about that.”

Slowly, you walked through your living room and towards the kitchen, eyes scanning everything in your sight. You took notice of the knife holder, making the decision to grab one. You held it in your hand tightly. “Warmer,” the voice spoke. Whatever this person was having you look for wasn’t in the kitchen, but it was close by. Though your heart was thumping loudly in your chest, the only thing that was left to check was the bathroom, spare bedroom, and the basement, which you surely weren’t going to check. The corridor leading towards those rooms seemed long and dark, only adding to the fear coursing through your body. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

You ignored his patronizing remarks, stepping down the quiet hallway. A creek from upstairs caused you to stop in your tracks, making you look up from your position. Was this person making you look for them? Were they in your house? The house was still as you stepped further, standing in front of the bathroom door. “Warmer.” With the knife in your hand and phone in the other, you hurriedly opened the door, rushing to move the shower curtain to the side.

“Where are you, fucker?” You asked, beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead as you walked back into the hall. Whoever was on the other end of the phone was just messing with you. They weren’t here. They weren’t anywhere near you. Walking to the spare bedroom the voice spoke, “hot.” You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t afraid, even with defense. Trying to trick yourself into thinking this person was just pranking you was barely working. “Open it,” he demanded.

The palms of your hands were sweating, a clear sign of your fear, but you still placed your hand on the knob. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your heart beating, it felt like you were suffocating. Without thinking, you open the door, nothing but darkness. You flipped on the light, still nothing. “Tricked you.”

“Where the fuck are you? Stop messing around with me! Who even is this, huh?” You started yelling over the phone. You began to walk out of the spare bedroom when suddenly the basement door flew open, almost hitting you in the face. You let out a scream as a dark figure came into view, all you could see was a white ghost mask. Immediately, you dropped your phone making a run for it to the spare bedroom behind you. With the knife still in your hand, you tried to quickly shut and lock the door behind you, only to struggle as the intrude fought back, their strength overpowering yours as they crashed against the door.

You fell to the floor, tripping over your feet. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but fight back. You started swinging with the knife in your hand as the intruder walked towards you, noticing the glint of the knife he had in his hand, a much larger knife—a hunter knife. Before you could blink, their gloved hand grabbed ahold of your wrist, snatching the knife from you and tossing it into the hallway. The smacks and punches you landed on their body did absolutely nothing. “Please! Please, don’t kill me!” Tears started falling from your eyes as your entire body trembled. “Take whatever you want, I won’t tell anyone! I won’t call the cops! Nothing!”

You were confused when the intruder let go of your hand, only to reach his gloved hand up to your face and wipe away your tears. You flinched at his touch, lip trembling. “What do you want?” You asked. No answer. They stood over you, looking down as you cowered in fear. You let out a small yelp as the man lifted you, snatching you by your arm and pushing you onto the bed. Now that you had a clear view of him, you could see how tall he was, his shoulders broad. You could faintly hear his heavy breathing behind the mask, the knife still held tight in his hand.

Toji couldn’t get over how pretty you were with tears in your eyes, mascara running down your puffy cheeks. He admired you in all your beauty, so happy that he finally got to be this close to you. “Are you gonna kill me?” He noticed how you kept looking down at his knife, body trembling. Toji could tell how scared you were, he didn’t mean to make you afraid, he never wants to hurt you. You’re too precious unlike all the others he has come across. So, he placed his knife down on the bedside table. You gulped, chest heaving up and down. The longer he stood in front of you, the more confused you were by his actions. Was this someone pranking you? Maybe a friend of Faye’s you didn’t know of?

Slowly, the man took off his black gloves, his hands large, nails trimmed, and you noticed he had a tattoo on his right hand, one that seemed to blend into a sleeve on his arm. The crazy thing is, you recognized the tattoo, having seen it somewhere before. As you were about to say something, the man grabbed your face, pulling you towards him. A small whimper left your lips, now only inches away from his masked face. You could see his eyes through the mask, low and dark. “Are you gonna hurt me?” You whimpered. All the man did was nod at your question. Instantly, you were brought to tears, in fear of your life. He pushed you back down onto the bed, mounting you.

His rough hands caressed your face, trailing down to your neck, fingertips tracing over your skin. Why won’t he say anything? What does he want with you? Is he toying with you before he wants to kill you? Your mind was racing with so many questions. Toji brought his hand down to your chest, lightly grazing over it before moving to your exposed shoulders. One question that didn’t even cross your mind until now, was how he got in. You were sure that everything was locked, windows and doors. How did he get your number? Why did you recognize his tattoo? “Can you…can at least tell me who you are before you kill me?” You quietly asked. A stupid question. Why would you say anything like that?

He stopped his movements and you could feel him staring at you through the mask. Even if you couldn’t really see him, it still sent fear through your heart. Again, he brought his hand up to your face, the pad of his thumb running across your lips, smudging the lipgloss you had put on earlier. You flinched as he suddenly leaned closer to you, only to whisper, “you know who I am.” And you do, but you just don’t realize it yet. Toji remembers the day, of course he does. It was the day you were walking out of the grocery store and had dropped one your bags. When you went to grab it, Toji’s right hand placed over yours at the same time. You thanked him for helping, smiling up at him with those eyes. He introduced himself to you as you introduced yourself to him. That was a day he’d remember forever.

His voice sent shivers down your spine. It was so deep and husky, and you hate to admit it at a time like this, but attractive. “I…I don’t remember.” You gulped, scared that your response might cause a violent reaction from him. He lifted his head, staring down at you before slightly cocking his head to the side. He looked over your outfit, from the white bunny ears, to the pink silk one piece suit, to the fishnet stockings. It’s better now that he can see the outfit up close. His fingers fiddled with the little bow sewn onto the front of the one piece body suit. Cute, he thought. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at the knife on the bedside table while he was too busy looking at you.

Even if you wanted to attempt to grab the knife, he was on top of you, there was no way you’d be able to push him off. You took another chance to speak, “what’s your name?” You asked barely above a whisper. The man stayed silent. He was hurt you really didn’t recognize him by now, but he won’t blame you. You’ve already seen him once before, what’s the harm in seeing him again? He’s never sloppy with his work.

He leans back down towards your ear. “Toji.” Your eyes immediately widen. The guy from the grocery store parking lot. That’s how you recognized his tattoo. How? Was he stalking you this whole time? For how long? You were unsure of how to feel.

“It’s you,” you said with a mix of shock and disbelief. He huskily chuckled in your ear, reaching his up to pull his mask from his face, now allowing you to see him once more. “You,” you spoke again.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” He smirked. “God you look so sweet I just want to ruin you.” His eyes trailed down to your costume. He turned around, grabbing the knife from the bedside table. You grew nervous, unsure of his intentions. “I’ve had time to plan and think about what I wanna do with you, but now that I’m here, I’m unsure again.” He shrugged, trailing the tip of the knife across your soft skin.

You shifted under him, trying to free yourself only to be stopped when he pressed the blade against your neck, causing you to look into his eyes. Immediately, you felt the intensity, darkness consuming them. Toji leaned down, inches away from your lips, the knife still pressed against your throat as he gently connected his lips with yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, lips moving in sync with his as you kissed him back for some reason. Were you crazy? Why weren’t you trying to kill him? Grab the knife from him and stab him, run away, do something. Instead, your tongue was in his mouth.

Weirdly, the fear you had just moments ago seemed to be simmering away. When you first met Toji in the parking lot, he caught your eye, he was handsome, tall, and mysterious. Toji pulled away from the kiss, moving the knife away from your neck. All you did was look up at him, shocked by his actions, by all of it. “Were you stalking me?” You asked.

“Of course I was,” he answered. “I knew you were going out tonight. I was watching you from your window, watching you get dressed in this slutty costume. Were you going to go out tonight just to show off what’s mine, hm?” The blade trailed over the pink silk fabric of your bodysuit. Your breath hitched at his words. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice I was following you. I made it so obvious. I guess you’re just too stupid,” he sighed. “But that’s okay, baby. I forgive you.”

“I…” You were unsure of what to say. Each one of his words left you dumbfounded. He was right, you didn’t notice he was following you. You let out a gasp as his cut open the fabric of your suit with his knife, the cold air immediately hitting your skin. He cut it right down the middle, only leaving the spot right below your abdomen intact. He carefully moved the pieces of cut fabric to the side using the tip of his knife, exposing your tits.

Toji’s eyes seemed to light up at the sight, taking his free hand to cup your tits, gently pulling at your nipple. He took notice of those little whimpers and squeaks you tried so hard to muffle. “Oh? That feel good? Does a slut like you get turned on from having her stalker touch her?” He pulled at your nipple a little harder. Unexpectedly, his hand wrapped around your throat in an instant, your eyes widening. “Such a stupid slut, going out while there is a killer around. Don’t you care that I can slit your throat right now?” His eyes narrowed.

Your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, staring into his eyes. “I thought you weren’t gonna kill me?” You managed to speak, tears brimming your eyes as you stared up at him. “Please don’t kill me,” you begged, lip trembling. “I’m sorry for whatever I did! I won’t do it again!” You hiccuped, clenching your eyes shut as the sharp blade pressed against your neck again.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His hand came up to your face, wiping away your tears as he forced you to look into his eyes again. “Don’t be scared. There’s nothing to be scared of. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now. All I’m gonna do,” Toji’s hands snaked down to your exposed chest, thumb rubbing over your hard nipple, “is play with you. You gonna let me do that?” His hands felt so nice against your skin. “I’ve been watching you fuck yourself every night, seeing how depraved you are, how frustrated you get when you can’t make yourself cum.” Toji loves how you look up at him with those puppy dog eyes, acting like you don’t know what he’s talking about. “Can no one satisfy my baby, hm?” He cooed.

Without even thinking, your body moved on its own and you shook your head no, answering his question. “That’s what I thought. But tonight, I’m gonna ruin you, because depraved sluts like you open their legs for anything. So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” Toji ran the blade down the middle of your sternum, making a small cut on your skin. You let out a wince, looking down to see the small droplets of blood. His smile widened as leaned his head between your tits, sticking his tongue out and licking up the small amount of blood. A small gasp left your lips as the feeling while he indulged in the taste, savoring the coppery taste on his tongue. “Too fucking precious,” he grunted, taking the knife and cutting the rest of your bodysuit so that you were only left in your underwear and stockings.

“I’ll be good for you,” you answered weakly. Toji’s eyes flickered back up to yours, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. He let out a breathy laugh, almost like he was mocking you before he grabbed ahold of your fishnet stockings, easily ripping them open. Your black lacy panties were tempting to keep on, but Toji need to see all of you. The lace easily ripped against the blade, the fabric falling from your hips as he disposed them to the side, leaving you completely exposed.

“Would you look at that,” he spoke. “Look at how fucking wet you are.” His fingers dipped through your folds, gathering your slick. He opened his mouth, licking your juices off of his fingers, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. You squirmed under him, couldn’t help but get turned on at the sight in front you. You shouldn’t feel like this, it’s wrong, but it also feels so right. What was it about him? “I can’t wait to break you.” He removed himself from on top of you, standing now. He had removed the black costume he was wearing, revealing the black shirt, jeans and heavy boots he was in. Hurriedly, he removed his belt, unbuttoning his pants. “Come here,” he demanded as he pulled his boxers down, his cock springing free.

He was thick, bulbous head leaking pre cum and two prominent veins running on each side. You gulped, crawling over to him and getting down on your knees, the hardwood floor cold against your skin. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Stick your tongue out.” And as you did, he slapped the head of his dick against your tongue, smearing his precum all over your puffy lips as he teased him, teased you. He bit down on his bottom lip, eyes narrowing before he shoved his length in your mouth as far as he could. Immediately, your hands grabbed onto his jeans and you gagged around his cock, eyes clenching shut as tears formed in your eyes. “Fuckkkk,” he blissfully sighed. He pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe, strings of spit connecting from your lips to his length. “Keep looking at me while I fuck your pretty face.”

He guides your head up and down, fucking your face. You gag each time he hits the back of your throat, drool starting to form at the corners of your mouth. You blink up at him with tears in your eyes, watching the way he stares at you lust in his eyes and a mix of something else. He scares you, but he also doesn’t. It’s something that you’ve never felt before. It was hard not to get turned on by him, clearly your dripping cunt was enough proof. And now that you were sucking his dick, you were more even more turned on. Drool started to fall onto your tits, it was clear he liked it messy and sloppy. Glug, glug, glug.

“Shit, that’s it sweetheart,” he grunted, his balls slapping against your chin. He could feel the way your throat squeezed around him each time you gagged, only adding to his pleasure. Toji laughed at you, still gripping your hair tightly. Finally, he let you breathe. A series of coughs erupted from your chest as you tried to catch your breath. “There you go, breathe.”

You looked up at him through thick eyelashes, mascara running down your face. He was taken aback when you licked from his base all the way to his tip, sucking on it. You bobbed your head up and down, moaning around it. The vibrations sent shivers through his entire body. He pressed the knife to your cheek, a devilish smirk on his lips as he watched you suck and choke on his cock willingly. “Of course a sick slut like you is into this.” He watched you reach your hand between your legs, unable to resist the urge of touching yourself, rubbing your swollen clit. “Oh fuck.” He threw his head back, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip before you took him further in your mouth. Toji felt himself getting close, immediately pulling you off of him with a sadistic chuckle. “Almost made me fucking cum.” He let out a deep breath, his cock twitching in front of you, tempting you.

He quickly grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed before you had time to process. He could see the fear in your eyes, but also see how desperate you were. He loved it. He planted his lips onto you, sloppily kissing you, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Your hands came up to cup his face, pulling him more into the kiss as you moved your hips against his leg, begging for any sort of friction. “Filthy slut.” He dragged the cold knife against your tits, your body shuddering. “I bet you’d look so pretty covered in red.” His words brought fear into your heart, but for some reason you trusted that he wouldn’t kill you.

“Ah!” You let out a small yelp at the feeling of the sharp blade cutting against your skin, toji leaving a small mark against your tits just like he did with your chest. He licked the blood from his knife, watching the small droplets of blood flow from the incision. He was right, you did look pretty covered in red. While worried about the marks he was making on your skin, you were shocked when you felt his fingers push inside your aching cunt, stretching you open. Your whimpers were like music to his ears, feeling your walls spasm around him as you tried to adjust. How long has it been since someone else was inside you? Doesn’t matter now, you were his and his only. He began pumping his fingers in and out of you, your hand gripping onto the sheets below as your legs spread further and further.

“You’re soaked. You must like being threatened and stalked, huh? Like being used?” Toji questioned as he began moving faster, curling his fingers up slightly so that he was hitting your g-spot. He trailed the blade against your other breast, making another cut. Oh how he loved watching you bleed. Your pussy was making lewd sounds, squelching as your juices coated his fingers and hands.

“Oh my god!” You moaned, bucking your hips against his hand. You bit down on your lip as you tried to suppress your moans. He only made it harder, each thrust of his fingers causing your body to jolt in pleasure. Your legs threatened to close at the overwhelming feeling. Your skin began to heat up as you grew closer to your orgasm. “I’m…I’m close!”

Toji watched in awe as your body began to quiver, squirting all over his hand, soaking the bed below you. He pressed the knife against your neck as he removed his fingers from your wet hole, a broken moan leaving your lips as the loss of contact. “You…fuck…” He could even finish his sentence, so enthralled with you.

You looked up at him with teary eyes, begging for me without speaking. Warm blood trickled down your chest, though that was no longer a worry for you. All you wanted was him, no matter how sick and twisted it was. “Hurt me,” you demanded, tone soft. Something in Toji flipped upon hearing your words. In a second, your legs were spread wide. He ahead aligned himself with your entrance, grabbing your hair tightly.

“Watch as I fuck you.” He slowly pushed himself in, feeling the stretch of his cock made your eyes roll back in pleasure. Even with how wet you were, it still stung a little bit but eventually the pain turned into pleasure. He thrusted hard into you, a mewl leaving your lips at the sudden change. “Does it turn you on fucking your stalker?” He slammed his hips into you again, a growl erupting from his chest. He reveled in your warmth, feeling your walls squeeze around him. He began fucking you a rough pace, tired of teasing himself.

You watched as his length slid in and out you, reaching deep and hitting your sweet spot each time. “I just wanna mark your pretty body, make you stupid.” His words went straight to your pussy, squeezing around him at the thought. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to hurt you? Cause I’ll fucking hurt you,” he gritted his teeth as he fucked you hard and rough.

“Hurt me, please!” You cried, tears falling down your cheeks. Your juices coated his length, a white ring forming around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls. He was animalistic. “So good!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, reaching a hand down to rub your neglected clit. “Shiiit, yes!” You screamed, toes curling. Toji let go of your hair, roughly grabbing your face to look at him. He loved seeing the tears in your eyes no matter if it was from fear or from pleasure. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp sting across your cheek. He slapped you.

“Such a pretty fucking face.” He took the knife, the blade gliding across your stinging cheek. You clenched your eyes shut, taking the pain because the pleasure was so much better. “Pussy is squeezing me so tight,” he chuckled. He slapped you again on the same cheek, the pain even worse than before. His tip kissed your cervix, your pussy gripping him so tight. It’s like you didn’t want to let him go. His thumb gently grazed over your bottom lip before slipping it into your mouth and laying it on the flat of your tongue. Without hesitation, you sucked on his finger, moaning around it.

Toji couldn’t get over how fucked out you looked, eyes low as you could barely look up at him. “Toji,” you whined, “ah! I’m gonna cum again! F-fuck, you’re so deep!” Your jaw was slack. All the pleasure that built up finally released, squirting all over his cock and making more of a mess. Your juices coated your thighs and sheets below you. Your body convulsed, trembling under him.

“You’re doing such a good job, baby. That’s my girl.” His hand wrapped around your neck, pushing you flat against the bed. He pushed your legs up against your chest as he fully mounted you, still thrusting into you throbbing cunt. The overstimulation made you go stupid. “I’m gonna fill up this pretty pussy and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he huskily whispered in your ear, pounding into you.

“Yes! Yes!” You screamed, feeling him deeper than before. His balls slapped against your ass as he fucked you ruthless, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier, a sign that he was close. His grip around your neck grew tighter, your vision nearly fading to black before he landed another slap across your face, snapping you back to reality.

“Don’t pass out on me,” he demanded through gritted teeth. “This pussy is gonna make me cum, fuck!” He growled. Plap, plap, plap! The sheer force of his thrusts sent you into a spiral, only pushing you to another orgasm. “Ah, shit!” Toji thrusted into you once more as he filled you up, hot spurts of cum painting your walls. You let out a blissful sigh at the feeling, only to let your orgasm take control and squirt all over his cock and abdomen, soaking the shirt he had on. His heavy breaths were felt on your skin. Toji slowly pulled out of you, his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt. He leaned back to admire the work he had done, using his thumb to push his cum back inside.

The tip of his knife traveled from your abdomen all the way to your neck, the feeling sending goosebumps all over your body. He pressed hard against your neck, chest heaving up and down while he stared at you. “You’re lucky.” He removed the knife of your skin before standing up, grabbing his robe and mask off of the floor while he left you there on the bed.

“Where…where are you going?” You managed to sit up, legs still shaking. It sounded like you didn’t want him to leave. He slipped his mask on, then his gloves and lastly the robe. “Ah!” Toji yanked you up by your neck, leaving you face to face with him. He could see the fear spark back up in your eyes.

“Leaving before I change my mind,” he huffed. He squeezed your throat tighter, heart pumping in your chest as you felt the knife press against your abdomen. “If you tell anyone about this, I won’t let you go the next time I find you. You understand, baby?” With a nod, he pushed you back down onto the bed, tossing you like you were some rag doll. His heavy boots hit the hardwood floor as he walked out of the bedroom. As you sat there dumbfounded, left to piece together what just happened, your back door slammed shut.

Your fingers traced over the cuts he made on your skin, breathing hitching at the touch of each one, dried blood and tears on your skin. Toji. You won’t forget his name or his face. You should consider yourself lucky knowing the many chances he had at killing you. Why did he let you go? Why was he so keen on stalking you first? Breaking away from your thoughts, you looked around the room, seeing the aftermath. Though, you couldn’t find yourself to move or do anything but sit there.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

DOCTORS ACROSS THE HALL

Spencer Reid x psychiatrist!reader

Synopsis: Sleep-deprived and traumatized, Spencer Reid attempts to pin the blame on his innocent new neighbor (he can't). Word Count: 2k+ Warning: meet cute-ish(?) fluff(?) i'm not sure anymore, lol. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. not proofread !!!! A/N: inspired by S2 x E14 & 15, we all know what i mean hehe

Spencer Reid's eyes are dry.

Each blink is a terrifying journey. Afraid that he'll go back in the past—in that hut—in between the millisecond of closing his eyes.

He's seeing nothing but blurry darkness, and yet he can still feel Tobias Hankel's shaky palms across the skin of his arm.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

The same four words ring in Spencer's ears, encouraging pain—paranoia.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

With every breath Spencer takes, they hitch in the middle of his throat. Forever stuck and dies there with no trace of hope for the next generation of traveling air.

Hope that he'll be able to breathe without tugging aches all over his chest is long gone.

No man would ever be the same had they been in the situation he went through. He can't help but feel weak. And it's eating Spencer alive to the point of deliberate insomnia.

He doesn't remember the last time he'd ever slept like a normal person.

"It helps."

Knock, knock.

"Trust me."

Knock, knock, knock.

Spencer opens his eyes. He's not sure when slumber took over his mind or if he even participated in sleep at all. Chances are he was too dissociated from reality that he's left his body frozen for a while. Nonetheless, in the little time he spent in serene blankness, only one emotion brews in him.

Anger.

Who in their right minds would go out knocking at—Spencer glances at the clock on his nightstand—2 AM?

Knock, knock, KNOCK—

It stops.

A creak echoes in the hall as muffled voices scratch Spencer's ears. He can't make out the words, only the wave of the softest and gentlest whispers he's ever heard.

On a different day, he may have let it go. Hell, a different him would have let it go.

The Spencer from one week ago would have let it go.

The Spencer who never felt so nauseous at the sight of his own blood along the canvas of his temple. The Spencer with an awkward grin without the baggage of Tobias Hankel's torture over his shoulders.

The Spencer he used to be.

But despite everyone's loving support. Despite the bragging rights he gained for surviving a serial killer. No one can loosen the throttling chokehold of trauma around his neck. Not even him.

Spencer catches himself clenching his fists too tight. Crescent indentations sting on his palm—nostalgic and unsettling. He only grits his jaw at the thought. And comes in the invigorating vibrations all over his chest.

There it is again.

The useless anger.

A loaded gun with no target.

The man is dead. Tobias Hankel is dead.

Spencer wonders about the use of his boiling anger when the person he loathes is already rotting in his grave.

Without any other outlet to unleash the colossal mass of suppressed rage brewing inside of him, Spencer makes good use of one of the most common defense mechanisms: displacement.

Maybe screaming at someone will deflate the tightness across his chest and clear his mind a bit in the form of self-loathing after he realizes the grave immaturity of his plan.

He lifts his body off his mattress, swinging his legs on the side of his bed as he methodically rubs his eyes against the lamp's brightness. Strands of his hair go array around the vertical circumference of his head like an electric halo.

A huff pulses off his lips. He swallows a lump of thick air as he weighs his next moves.

Part of Spencer died in that cemetery. What difference does it make if he screams at the world? If he screams at—

His brows furrow, eyes narrow, and ears perk.

It's different this time.

Irritating knocks. Opening door. Muffled whispering. Closing door. Then quiet for an hour.

That has been a constant for the past five days. A constant routine that he felt indifferent about but somehow grew annoyed by.

But it's different this time.

The door across the hall didn't close.

And it's been five minutes.

Before Spencer knows it, his hand turns the knob and swings the door open.

Two women across from him. They are in the middle of what seems to be a tight hug before one bids her goodbye and lightly runs down the stairs.

Spencer watches as the other disappears down the lower level. Anger morphs into confusion.

"Did we bother you?"

He jolts back, snapping his gaze to the woman across. "What?"

You smile apologetically, "I'm sorry about the noise—"

"Dr. Spencer Reid," He spits. Spencer's forehead creases. He wonders what prompted his mouth to openly provide his full name to a stranger, specifically when the information was not asked for.

"Oh," You blink, lightly jumping on your toes. An unseen glint sparks in your eyes. You introduce yourself as a response, a lot less threatening than he did but equally awkward. You smile again. Sweetly, this time. Like you're looking at a puppy.

Spencer's brows bounce over his forehead as the hand over his doorknob loosens. "You're a doctor?" He inquires.

You nod, "Mhm, what are the odds, right?" You chuckle. The sound echoes around the quiet hall.

"11.76%."

"What?"

"The odds—" Spencer scratches the back of his neck, "—it's 11.76%. There are fourteen tenants in this building, including you. We both found out we're doctors, and I know none of our neighbors are. Most of the neighbors are living alone besides the old couple on the first floor, but I know none of them are doctors. That's two in fifteen people. So 11.76%. But now I realize you weren't being literal about it..." Heat rushes against the skin of his face.

Silence hovers between the two of you. He feels more awake than he was minutes ago for an entirely different reason—embarrassment. Spencer wishes that some sort of earthquake would open up the floor and swallow him.

"Interesting," You finally speak, changing the leg where you placed your weight. "I tried calculating it myself and got the same result. You were right."

His mouth falls agape. A surge of warmth strikes his chest. "You were calculating?" Spencer squints, rubbing an eye out of habit due to his current predicament and baffled by your antic all the same.

You nod again, "Just cause you're my neighbor doesn't mean I'll just take your word for it, you know. But I have to admit, it was cool that you figured that out in a second. You have my respect." You flash a playful smile, hugging your chest at the sudden draft.

"Ahh," Spencer steps back into his apartment. The tinge of giddiness is quickly replaced by sleep deprivation and anxiety. A hand throws itself into the cavity of his eye socket, pushing it close to remove the pain that's settling in.

Flashes of bright light blind him in the dark shade of his eyelids. Frustration swiftly creeps over his shoulders. Like he's drowning above water, tied down, and has no air to gasp for. Panic begins to paralyze him. All seems lost, and darkness slowly—

"Would you like some tea?"

Spencer blinks, lifting his gaze back at you as your soft smile slowly adjusts his sight.

"I have a new brand of tea I've been dying to open. Would you like some?" You repeat, tilting your head a bit as you await a response. When you don't get one, you add, "I promise I don't bite." And your heart flutters at the little twitch at the ends of his lips.

He concludes you're roughly two weeks fresh from moving in. Here you are, inviting a stranger in the middle of the night to enjoy tea inside your home.

Seems reckless.

Idiotic.

But Spencer doesn't say no.

He walks towards you like he's leaving a world to explore another. Anxiety slowly dissipates with each step he takes. A contrast of what he feels each second that passes while he lies awake.

You step aside to give him way. "Grab a seat—" you gesture towards the kitchen -island-slash-dining-table, "—The girl you saw usually stays longer, so I already heat some water. Is chamomile okay?" You talk as you maneuver around your small kitchen.

Spencer finds a seat closest to the door. For all he knows, you're the serial killer on your end of the skeptical assumptions in his head.

"Nice apartment," He says out of the obligatory guest etiquette. Spencer takes in every bit of your reflection in your home.

It's inviting. Warm and cozy. The hint of oat and lavender whiffs past his nose. Your place is adorned with small, warm lights, brightening each corner with sunset tones.

Your chuckle brings his attention back to you. "Don't be shy, Dr. Reid," You glance at him over your shoulder. "It's messy. You can say it."

"If a couple of books on your table is messy to you, you should see my side of the building."

Spencer straightens up as confusion spreads over his face.

How do you do that?

Make him feel comfortable with words and a gentle voice. Everyone on his team has been doing the same exact thing, but somehow, you get something out of him without further prompting.

The image of your coffee table pops in his head. Cultural Psychology. Learning Psychotherapy. Trauma and Dreams. And a few more books that clocks his interest in you further down the rabbit hole.

"You're a psychologist," He announces into the air.

"Psychiatrist, actually," You place a mug in front of Spencer, finding a seat across from him. "But what gave it away? The tea or the messy apartment?" You ask into your mug that says 'you're purrfect' in pink lowercase and has a cat’s paw under the lettering. A playful smile is curving your lips.

Spencer accepts the blue mug, brows rising at the police box outlined image over the blue stain. He wouldn’t have expected you as a fan of Doctor Who, but who’s he to judge? A part of him wants to discuss common interests, but he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to change the subject.

"T-the books." He says hesitantly, uncertain whether the art of observation has marked him a creep right at that moment.

You hum, "Thought I would've been more mysterious than that." You chuckle, pulling a leg against your chest. "And you?" You inquire back.

"I have three PhDs," Spencer shares shyly, breaking eye contact masked as drinking your quite tasteful tea. He notes to ask the brand you're so enthusiastic about later on.

"Three?" Your eyes glisten under the warm light.

He nods.

"Let me guess, 190."

"190?"

"Your IQ," You lean back against the table, "My guess is you graduated young. Went to high school, college, and graduate school as a puppy." You add, amping with adoration over the new information.

"A puppy is a strong word, but yes," Spencer blushes now, hoping the small lighting leans in his favor to hide the red tint over every bit of his skin. “And just 187, not that big of a deal.”

"Just 187? You're just being humble, right?" You giggle, "I bet some prestigious agency hired you at a young age, and you're called the genius kid." You jest, genuinely interested in him more than ever.

More like the boy genius. But can’t possibly expose himself more than you already did out of sheer lucky guesses. Spencer avoids meeting your eyes like it's the plague. "You awfully guess a lot..."

You gasp, placing your mug on the table, "Shut up! I was close, was I? Oh my gosh!" You're laughing now, utterly comfortable to show quirks that people you just met shouldn't see yet. "I'm good at this. I think I'll be okay later, then." You say to yourself, nodding in satisfaction.

"For what?" Spencer chimes, troubles slipping away to the back of his mind and the sound of your hush laughter lulling him. It might be the tea or the possibility that you'd drugged him, but his body felt light for the first time in weeks. He doesn't have any complaints.

"I moved here for a job," You start attentively, making sure that you don't share too much. "But I have people. They'll search for me in case you turn out to be a serial killer."

His brows jump, "How do I know you're not the serial killer? Women can be one, too. And statistically, women who are serial killers are attractive."

"Are you saying I'm attractive, Dr. Reid?"

"I—" Spencer freezes, heat flowing to his ears. "I-I was making a point—" He cuts himself off. He wonders when the earthquake he's wished for earlier is coming to save him from embarrassment.

You stay silent, reveling in his stuttering voice.

"Is that coffee? I thought you made tea." He changes the subject—poorly.

You don't mind it one bit, indulging at the sight of his pinkish ears covered by his unruly hair. "I invited you for tea. I didn't say I'll drink one with you." You take a sip of the caffeine, rubbing the idea on his face.

Spencer responds with a subtle roll of his eyes that makes you chuckle more than intended. "Why coffee at three in the morning?" He asks gently, not wanting to step over any boundaries.

"I'm supposed to start my job later. I heard my patients need a lot of assistance, so I need to study and make sure I give them the right help."

"That sounds noble," He yawns, the first of many.

Spencer never thought your smile could get any sweeter, "I haven't officially met them yet. So, I really wish it goes well."

It might be the chamomile tea with a hint of honey finally working in his veins, but Spencer thinks you're beaming like an angel descending from the skies.

He yawns, and you giggle once more, "I think you should go to sleep, Dr. Reid."

“Yeah, yeah, I should,” Spencer’s eyebrows collide at the sadness in his chest. His body feels comfortable in his seat. Getting out of it feels like torture. 

You both stand from your seats, walking him towards the door. 

Spencer turns around before he closes his, a sleepy smile on his face. "Thanks for the tea," He yawns, a hand covering his mouth.

“You’re— hold on, give me one second,” You turn around and back inside your apartment. He can’t see you but can hear your light footsteps on the floorboards as you run to your coffee table and back inside the frame of your front door. 

Spencer patiently waits as you walk to his end of the hall, take his hand out, and hand him a heart lollipop. 

“Take this. They help with the bad craving,” You advertise as you walk backward. Before he completely shuts the door, you call for him, "Oh, and Dr. Reid."

Spencer swings the door open back wider, "Yes?"

"I think you're attractive too."

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