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smileysuh · 3 months ago

Text

deal maker

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, dry humping, foreplay, slight corruption kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.7k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, Halloween, supernatural/demon au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Happy Halloween!

One: her

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in the middle of a library, you might just scream. You know your workload increases with each year you’re in university, but there’s something sinister about the amount of book-related essays you have right before Halloween.

You’re doing your best to focus, and you’ve read the entirety of the ‘Frankenstein’ book that you’re supposed to be analyzing, but you just can’t find words.

A massive sigh escapes you, and your best friend, Hwasa, casts you a sideways glance. “You good, babes?” she asks.

“I just- I can’t do this,” you groan. “It’s a completely open ended prompt- I could write about anything I want to, and all things considered, five thousand words isn’t the longest essay ever- but, damn, I seriously can’t think right now.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you really think you’re at rock bottom on this?”

“I don’t see how I could go any lower.”

“Okay, well,” she scoots her chair closer to you, her voice lowering, “i wouldn’t suggest this otherwise, but uh- have you ever thought about contacting the Sigma Veta Tau demon?”

“The what?” you stare at her blankly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know about him, you’re a goody goody,” Hwasa sighs. “Basically, there’s this guy in the SVT frat who makes deals and does your work for you.”

“What’s this have to do with being a demon?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a weird myth- basically, this guy helped me with an essay last year worth thirty percent of my grade. All he asked for was a family heirloom, and I think it’s his weird choice of price for favours that get him the whole ‘demon’ thing cuz he doesn’t usually ask for money like other dudes who write your papers would.”

“How did you do? On the essay?” you ask.

“Got an A. He doesn’t overdo it, he does enough to get you a good grade but not so good it’s obvious you didn’t do the work.”

“So… is he an actual demon, or?” You cock your head to the side, trying to understand the whole demon relevance.

“Nah, like I said, he’s just some hot nerd who wrote my essay. It wasn’t sketchy at all.”

“And he does this for a lot of people?”

“I’ve heard about a few. I know his friend Dokyeom was close to failing his Kinesiology course and somehow Wonwoo did his final exam for him and helped him pass.”

You let out a small laugh. You’re familiar with the Sigma Veta Tau frat, and DK is a well known figure there- getting someone to help him pass Kinesiology is very characteristic to the loud gym bro. “Wait, but, how did Wonwoo pull it off? They ID you at the final exams, don’t they?”

Hwasa shrugs. “I guess the dude pulls off miracles every once in a blue moon, maybe that’s part of his ‘demonic’ reputation.”

“Are we sure this a good idea?” you ask.

“Making a deal with the Devil?” Hwasa clarifies. “Of course, what could go wrong?”

You laugh at her choice of words.

This Wonwoo guy definitely isn’t the Devil… and even if he was, what would making a deal with him even really include?

You’re skeptical to say the least, but looking back at your worn out book, and your laptop document open with zero words- you begin to wonder if maybe this Wonwoo guy is a good way to solve your current predicament.

Two:

Wonwoo quite enjoys living on campus. He loves the onslaught to his senses every time he’s out and about, mingling with university kids who have way too much on their plate. No one ever notices him, no one ever notices the things that are slightly… off about him, they’re much too busy focusing on this week’s term paper, or this week’s quiz.

No, Wonwoo’s extremely happy being exactly where he is. He’s lounging in a coffee shop that connects to the book store, his eyes darting from person to person, assessing-

That’s when his gaze locks with someone familiar.

Hwasa had come to him last year, needing an essay completed. It had been one of Wonwoo’s easier tasks, as he’s read the source material upwards of twenty times in his long life. He’s seen her around campus a few times since then, but she’s never approached him, not the way she is now.

“Hi, Wonwoo!” Hwasa grins, demenour as bubbly as ever.

The frat boy simply nods, his gaze turning to assess you as you stand next to your friend.

“This is y/n,” Hwasa introduces you. “She’s actually struggling with an essay right now-”

“Hate to hear about an academic struggle,” Wonwoo interrupts, “especially while enjoying my coffee.” His eyes return to you again. “If you ever need a tutor, you should swing by the frat.”

“I would appreciate that,” you nod, a little breathless.

It’s clear there’s something off about you too- your heard rate is going faster than the average rate, and you’re finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

Ah, things click in Wonwoo’s head, this particular set of responses isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with. Many girls react this way to him, getting ‘flustered,’ as humans would say.

However, what is unfamiliar, is the way Wonwoo himself is reacting to it. He finds it cute, endearing in a way- as opposed to the annoyed feeling he usually gets when women are easily infatuated with him.

“Here,” Wonwoo breathes smoothly, picking up a pen from his notepad. “Give me your hand.”

Your gaze flickers to Hwasa for a moment, and then you’re reaching forward. Wonwoo grasps your wrist, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the way you jolt from his touch. He quickly writes his phone number down on your inner palm. “Give me a call about tutoring you sometime, we can discuss details then.”

“O-okay,” you nod, immediately taking your hand back when he’s finished, cradling it close to your chest.

“If that’s all you two have to say to me,” Wonwoo breathes, looking between you and Hwasa, “I’d love to get back to my coffee.”

Three:

“Hey, I’m at the frat, where are you?” you ask as you answer your best friend’s call. You feel so awkward just standing here, trying to look like you belong even though you’re sure you stand out in the all boys frat village.

“Babes, I’m so sorry- I’m at this study group and it’s going mega late, I didn’t even realize the time and I’m across campus-”

You let out a sigh. “Are you seriously going to make me do this alone?”

“You’ll be fine!” Hwasa assures you. “Wonwoo won’t bite, it’s the daylight after all.”

She giggles, and you roll your eyes. You’re still not sure how you feel about this whole ‘demon’ thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid to enter a fratboy den of wolves alone.

“You’ve got this,” Hwasa says again. “If you need anything, just text me, and remember, I stalk your snapchat location so if anything happens-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh. “Okay, I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You hang up on Hwasa, taking a deep breath and turning to the front door. You approach cautiously, raising your hand and knocking three times.

It takes a couple of moments, but eventually, a man opens the door. You recougnize Jeonghan, he’s the frat president’s right hand man, a business major with a reputation for hitting on every girl he meets.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeonghan grins, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder while he shovels some cereal into his mouth from the bowl in his hand.

He’s in an oversized white shirt and sweatpants, you’d bet he hasn’t been to classes today- and fuck it, he looks handsome, all the SVT men do.

“Sorry, hi, I’m here for Wonwoo, but I don’t think we’ve actually met,” you say awkwardly, holding out a hand.

Jeonghan’s gaze falls to your extended palm, and he chuckles. “Wonwoo gets all the cute girls,” he says, moving away from the door frame to let you inside, “but none of them ever stick around.”

“I’m here to study,” you try to explain.

“Sure you are,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You follow him through the entryway living space, pausing as he heads back into the connected kitchen. “Wonwoo’s room is the third floor, first door on the left.” You stand there for a few moments, and Jeonghan cocks his head to the side. “You have no clue where the stairs are, do you?”

“Nope.”

“That door,” he points with his spoon. “Don’t get lost.”

He’s a bit of an odd one, and with a final thank you, you scurry away, following his directions past a door and up three flights of stairs. You pause outside the first room on the left, swallowing thickly before you knock.

“Come in!” Wonwoo’s voice calls out.

Before you can push the door open, it opens by itself, and you half expect Wonwoo to be standing there- only to find him seated on his bed with a book in his hands.

He’s in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hood is up, but his dark curls are poking out, toying with the rims of glasses that set of the sharp angles of his face.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Uh-” you cough. “Y/N.” The door opening by itself had freaked you out, and you wonder how true the whole demon thing is- God, that’s been on your mind a lot.

“Come in, relax, and tell me what I can do for you,” he instructs, using his foot to push out a chair near his bed.

You swallow thickly again, closing the door behind you and approaching. You take a seat, letting out a breath. “So basically I have an essay on Frankenstein- have you read it?”

“Of course. Have you?” he counters.

“Yeah, I’ve read it, but uh… anyways, it’s due on Halloween, which is two weeks away, and I have so many other essays to write-”

“What’s the topic?”

“Open ended.”

“How many words?”

“Five thousand.”

“That doesn’t seem very hard,” he muses with a grin, slotting a marker between his pages so he can rest his book on his chest, getting a better look at you.

“Usually it wouldn’t be, but I’m just blanking- I don’t even know where to start.” You release a stressed breath. “So I brought a family heirloom.”

Wonwoo just looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Hwasa said she paid you last time with her grandmothe’rs broach?” you try to explain.

“My price is different for everyone,” Wonwoo tells you, holding out a hand. “Let’s see what you brought.”

“It’s my aunt’s.” You give the necklace to him. “She got it to me to celebrate graduating highschool and getting into university.”

Wonwoo inspects the delicate silver chain, looking at the crescent moon charm with an opal in the middle. “It’s obviously valuable,” he says, handing it back to you, “but I can tell it’s not very sentimental.”

“So…” you fidget with the necklace in your palm, “what do you want?”

Wonwoo’s eyes begin to scan your form, and suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s undressing you in his mind, and it makes you fidget in your seat. His gaze lands on your chest, and you fight the urge to cover your tits-

He sits up, reaching forward- You hold your breath as his fingers brush by your collar bones, too close to the swell of your breasts for your liking- and then he’s lifting your necklace, leaning even closer to inspect it.

You can feel his breath on your skin, and he’s so close- God, why is something as simple as this so erotic? You’ve dealt with pretty boys before, but there’s something about a pretty, nerdy, dangerous boy-

“Where did you get this?” he asks, thumb smoothing across the golden heart attached to the chain on your neck.

It’s hard to find your voice, but after a moment, you’re able to respond. “It was uh- it was from my last boyfriend.”

“An ex?” His gaze lifts to you.

“Yeah.” You can feel your skin heating.

“And you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I figure I bought him a bunch of stuff while we were dating, pretty sure this was only fifty bucks or something, so I guess I thought I deserved to keep it.”

Wonwoo nods. You watch his gaze dip to your lips, just for a moment, and then he’s releasing your necklace and leaning back into his bed again. “That will work.”

“It will?” you ask in shock.

“Uh huh. There’s a certain sort of sentimentality to it. Also… even though you say you kept it because you deserved it, buying him so many things or whatever, I think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you is still holding onto something from the past, instead of looking at your future. I’ll take it off your hands, and you can progress now, with more than just your essay.”

You wonder what sort of motive Wonwoo has, what significance a necklace from your ex actually has on a man who’s practically a stranger.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching behind your throat to undo the clasp. “So… how does this work now?”

“A five thousand word open ended essay on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein…” Wonwoo takes his glasses off, wiping them with his hoodie. “I guess, you give me some time to think it through, I text you, and you come see me again.”

You watch the way he puts his spectacles back onto his face- it’s shocking how small, simple, mundane motions can be so beautiful when completed by a man like him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I guess… I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Bye for now.”

He relaxes against his pillows, lifting his book and immediately turning his attention to it.

You stand up and leave without another word, your heart racing in your chest.

Once you’re outside the frat house, you call Hwasa.

“So how did it go?” she asks. “He didn’t kill you, so that’s good news!”

“He also didn’t want the family heirloom,” you sigh.

“So what did he want?”

“My necklace, you know, the one from my ex.”

“That’s weird, why would he want that?”

“Hell if I know,” you groan. “Hwasa… he’s not an actual demon, right?”

“Of course not!” she laughs.

You wish you were as certain as she is. There’s definitely something otherworldly about Jeon Wonwoo, and one of these days, you’re going to put your finger on exactly what is different about him from any other man you’ve ever met.

Four:

Wonwoo is standing by his window, examining the necklace in his hand. It’s such a simple little thing, but there’s so much energy tied to it. Wonwoo can see the dark aura- a tie to a past that it’s clear you’d rather forget.

Usually, Wonwoo collects items with soul ties. Family heirlooms are the easiest, as they’re connected to multiple people in different generations. When one of those people with a soul connection to the item dies, Wonwoo deams if they’re a worthy enough spirit to take as payment for his favours.

In Hwasa’s case, both of her grandparents had died recently. The grandmother had gone first, followed quickly by the grandfather, and it was the older male that Wonwoo had chosen to take for himself. His soul had been dark, a signifier of the evil in his heart when he’d been on earth.

For a demon, Wonwoo actually likes humans. He only accepts contracts that allow him to collect on bad souls, souls that he deems worthy of eternal damnation.

Many of his kind have asked him why he’d chosen a university to call home, and in simple terms, it’s because at heart, Wonwoo has an erudite flecked soul. He loves learning, more than he’s ever loved being a demon.

He got to a point in his life where he figured, if he was going to be around forever, he might as well learn everything.

Besides all that, university is easy, students come to him, he hardly had to do any work. Students are always anxious, always busy and in need of support to get work done. They hardly think of the heirloom they pawned off to a frat boy in return for an essay or a test- and since Wonwoo waits for natural deaths to collect the souls tied to the items, there’s no harm no fowl.

With all of this being said, Wonwoo’s not used to taking an item like yours. There are only two souls tied to it, your own, and your ex boyfriend’s… Wonwoo knows which one he’ll collect.

He’s not sure why he feels protective of you… there’s just something in your aura that calls to him, something he can’t explain.

He knows that this job will be different, in more ways than one, but something inside of Wonwoo is ready for the change, after all, it’s been a very long time coming.

Five:

“You’re back,” Jeonghan muses when he opens the door to the frat for you. “That’s a first.”

“Hi,” you say meekly, forcing a smile. You’re still not sure how you feel about any of this, and knowing that what Wonwoo’s doing with you is unusual doesn’t help ease your anxieties.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeonghan sighs, opening the door wider so you can pass. As you move by him, a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “He’s never cooked for anyone, so, just keep that in mind.”

God, these men are so odd-

You find Wonwoo in the kitchen, his back to you. He’s in a black t-shirt and it stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His curls are a little messy, as if he’s been sleeping, and when he turns to you, you find he’s not wearing his glasses.

Why is he just as pretty without glasses as he is with glasses?

This feels unfair. This feels like- well, it shouldn’t be legal, for starters.

“Hey.” Wonwoo flashes you a smile and you just about melt. You can feel your skin heating, and you hate how your body betrays you, betrays the inner lustings that take over every time you look at this nerdy hot frat boy.

“Hi,” you respond, feeling like a complete idiot as you approach Wonwoo.

“You hungry?” He looks down at the pan in front of him. “I’ve been making steak and eggs.”

“Actually, I’m really just here about the essay,” you try to explain.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo focuses on the sunny side up egg he’s making, “Give me one sec.”

You watch him finish up his meal. You’re not used to watching a man cook, and you're surprised at how skilled he is. There’s something very attractive about the way he shovels the egg out of the pan, adding it to his plate with the finished steak.

“Okay, let’s go.” Wonwoo leads you back up to his room. He takes a seat at his work table. “You can go on the bed,” he suggests, cutting open an egg. You watch the orange yolk drip, the way he scoops some up with steak.

He’s way too attractive.

“You sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s perfectly medium rare.”

“A little too rare for me,” you admit, immediately realizing your mistake. “It looks amazing, sorry, I’m just not hungry.”

“Sounds good. So let's talk your essay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to write it for you.”

“What?” It feels like the air is knocked out of your chest, and you stare at Wonwoo in confusion. “But uh… you took my necklace, and you wrote Hwasa’s essay-”

“It’s busy season.” Wonwoo waves his fork around absentmindedly. “The deal is, you come here, we work together, and when you need help, I’ll help. When you need a final edit, I’ll final edit.”

“Uh…” Your mind is spinning. “If you’re not going to help, I can really just do it myself.”

“I think we both know my help will be important,” Wonwoo points out. “Look, you’re a good girl. Don’t you want to feel like you did it yourself? When you came here the first time, I noticed you were hesitant, I don’t think this is something you’re used to doing.”

“I’m not,” you admit, shocked at his ability to read you.

“With a five thousand word count, this will only take two or three hard study sessions top, in fact, since I have my steak and eggs, we can start now.”

“I didn’t even bring my book-”

“I’ve got a copy right here.” Wonwoo spins his chair, reaching for his bookshelf. He pulls out a worn version of Frankenstein, handing it to you. “I’ve got notes in here, if you want to flip through it, I’m sure you’ll find something to inspire your essay.”

You take a deep breath.

Should you do this? Should you sit here and study with him? What was the point of giving him your necklace if he’s not going to write it for you?

“You’ll keep me on track?” you ask.

Wonwoo offers you a lopsided grin. “Uh huh.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Six:

It’s your second session with Wonwoo. You’ve been carrying his version of Frankenstein around like a bible- the notes, carefully hand written into the margins, are so insightful and inspiring. At this point, you’ve reread the whole book just to get a chance to understand Wonwoo’s musings on every page.

You feel alight with determination, and your thoughts feel focused- you’re as focused with Wonwoo as you’ve ever been, which feels odd given how distracting he is.

It’s intimate in a way, to be so close to him, doing your own work while sharing a space-

Your phone buzzes, breaking your concentration.

Wonwoo looks up at you, pausing his reading. “Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

You let out a small laugh. “Just Hwasa checking in on me to make sure I’m okay with our tutoring session, you’ve got a reputation you know.”

“Do I?” Wonwoo grins, resting his book on his abdomen.

“Uh huh, people say you’re a demon or something. Apparently coming here for help with school is a deal with the devil.”

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s definitely a theory. What do you think?”

“At the moment, I’m not quite sure,” you admit. “All I know is, you’re helping me with this essay, and that’s what matters.”

“You know how you can check if I’m a demon?” Wonwoo asks.

“How?”

“Come touch my head, see if there are any horns.”

Wonwoo is giving you a challenging look, and for some reason, you can’t resist.

You put your laptop to the side, sitting up. “Really?”

“Like I said, only one way to find out if I’m a demon.”

You move toward him, standing off the bed to approach where he’s seated at his desk. “Honestly… maybe this isn’t the best idea. I trust you, I don’t have to feel your head for horns.”

“I really wish you would though,” Wonwoo counters, and there’s a serious edge to his tone. His eyes are bright, looking up at you. It’s like you’re suspended in time and space, staring at each other, holding your breaths.

You reach toward his head, in the back of your mind, you’re worried he might bite you- but Wonwoo stays perfectly still. He watches your every movement, and soon, your fingers are smoothing through his curls.

Wonwoo holds back a groan at the feeling of your touch. He wants to lean in toward you, but doesn’t want to scare you off. It’s clear to him from your body language that you’re as hesitant about this as you had been when you’d first come to him for help with your essay.

You’re so soft, so pure, and he loves it.

He can hear your heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you smooth around his head, searching for horns.

God, humans are so gullible, but it’s adorable when it’s you being this way.

“Okay, no horns,” you confirm, tearing your hand back like you’ve just been burned.

You turn away, returning to his bed, and Wonwoo can practically feel the heat coming off of you.

“Get back to work,” he says softly, loving the way he gets to sneak looks at you while you’re deep in thought.

This arrangement is too perfect- Wonwoo hates that it will soon be coming to an end. You’ve been very productive, and as much as he’d like to take credit for it, it’s your own doing.

In some odd way, he’s proud of you, and it’s a feeling he’s never quite experienced before.

Seven:

You can’t believe it’s your final session with your ‘tutor’. The amount you’ve gotten done in two separate days with Wonwoo is ridiculous-

He’s your lucky charm, and it’s odd how much someone can come to mean to you in such a short time.

“Okay,” you sigh, finishing your last line of work. “I’m done.”

“Time for edits then,” Wonwoo responds, slotting a bookmark into what he’s reading before descarding the novel on his sidetable. He approaches you, sitting onto the bed. He’s so close that you can feel his shoulder against yours. He’s so warm, in the best of ways.

He’s reading over your shoulder, and you can feel his breath on your skin. God, this closeness is doing something to you- your pussy is actually beginning to throb, and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

“Here.” You hand your laptop over to him, watching anxiously as he begins to read your essay from the top.

You’re so focused on him- each second feels like an eternity as he makes his way through your writing, discussing small edits with you as he goes through it.

“This is good,” Wonwoo muses, making it all the way to the end. “You did really well, and with two days to spare. I’m proud of you.”

“Guess I don’t have to be stressed for Halloween,” you grin, releasing a deep breath.

“Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“I haven’t even thought that far ahead,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, if nothing else, we throw a great frat party, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“You know what?” You stretch your arms above your head, releasing a deep breath. “I might just stop by.”

Eight:

Wonwoo’s walking through campus when he senses something- and that something can only ever be you. He’s become accustomed to your aura, and his gaze immediately finds you, heading across the green with a friend by your side.

Your eyes meet, and Wonwoo flashes you a smile, not expecting anything to come of it.

He’s surprised when you approach, calling his name. “Wonwoo! Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hey,” he grins, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. He wishes he could be more subtle about his attraction to you, but by the way you take him in, it’s clear that it’s not something that’s one sided.

“Yeji, this is the tutor I was telling you about! He helped me finish my essay in three sessions.”

“It was really more like two,” Wonwoo corrects you, then his eyes find your friend. “She did all the work, believe me.”

“Yeah, after I read your notes on the book,” you grin. “He’s not even an English major, but he picks up more details in novels than I ever could.”

Wonwoo’s not used to compliments like this, especially not from pretty girls. Most just accept his work and figure their payment was a job well done enough. He doesn’t even know how to respond, and for a demon of his age, this sort of thing never happens.

You’re so pure and sweet- God, he likes you so much. But there’s something beneath the attraction, there’s a want- a want to corrupt you, a want to see how far you’ll go for him, how dirty you’ll be just for him.

“Are you two coming to the party tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks, finding a way to divert the attention away from himself.

You and Yeji exchange a look, and it’s your friend who nods. “We’ll be there.”

Nine:

You don’t go to frats often, but your attraction to Wonwoo drives you through the front doors of the packed house. Everyone is dressed accordingly, and you take a moment just to appreciate the ambiance. Sure, it’s sweaty, and overwhelming, and the flashing lights are a bit much, but it feels like a community, in some sort of odd way.

You’re heading through the crowd of bodies with Hwasa when someone grabs your arm, and you’re shocked to find Jeonghan standing there. He’s dressed as a zombie of some sort, and despite the fake grime on his face, he’s still very handsome.

“Hey, repeat offender,” he grins, leaning close so you can hear him over the loud music.

“Repeat offender?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re Wonwoo’s chick now, our little repeat offender.” He’s charming, in an interesting sort of way. “Bet you’re looking for him.”

“Is he around?”

“He’s the dickhead in the oni mask, making a drink in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

You follow Jeonghan’s directions, approaching the kitchen. It’s as full of bodies as you’ve ever seen it, but despite that, finding Wonwoo is easy.

He’s tall, and even with his back to you, you’d recougnize his shoulders anywhere.

“So how are you doing this?” Hwasa asks.

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“Do you need backup?”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo again, and you find a smile appearing on your face. “Honestly, I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you need anything, just scream ‘hamburger’.”

“Why?”

“It’s my safe word,” Hwasa teases, flashing you a wink before she disappears into the crowd of people dancing.

You take a deep breath, mustering your courage to approach the hot nerd.

You move toward him slowly, coming to a stop at his side. You don’t even have to say anything, he notices you immediately, turning to assess you.

His handsome face is covered with an oni mask, and it’s a little more frightening than you’d been anticipating, especially with his wild dark curls. Oni are Japanese demons, it has horns and fangs-

“Hi,” he says, and you can hardly hear him from under the mask.

“You’re really leaning into the whole demon thing, aren’t you?” you force a laugh.

You hear Wonwoo chuckle, and then he’s pulling the oni mask off. “Are you more comfortable now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Actually, I think I’d also be more comfortable with a drink.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Just had a bit of a pre with Hwasa, why?”

“I guess…” he faces you, crossing his large arms over his broad chest, “when I make a move on you tonight, since our arrangement is done, I want to make sure you reciprocate, sound of mind.”

You look up at him in shock, unable to find any words with which to respond.

Wonwoo grins when you remain dumbfounded for a few seconds. “You’re cute.”

“I am?”

“More than you realize.”

“And you’re… you’re going to make a move on me?”

“Was thinking about it.”

“What would the move look like?”

“Should I tell you? Or would you rather I show you?”

God, why is he so hot? Why does he always know what to say? And why does his smirk look extra sexy with his slightly pointed canines? Why haven’t you realized his teeth were pointy before? You suppose he doesn’t smile enough for you to have picked up on details, but now, you’re looking at him, unhindered by shyness and limits of a tutor/semi-student relationship.

Wonwoo pulls you closer by your hips, staring down at you. “I’m going to need a verbal answer, Sweetheart.”

“Show me,” you tell him.

Wonwoo’s grin widens, and one of his hands moves from your hip to your cheek, cupping your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone, and it’s such a loving motion- it’s as if the entire frat party disappears around you. You’re so focused on him that you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo moves closer, and you an feel his breath on your face. His lips are incredibly close, so close you could kiss him yourself- but you stay frozen, waiting on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks teasingly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and then, he presses his lips to your own, cradling you even closer with the hand on your cheek. His other palm finds the small of your back, tugging you to his chest. You find your grip going to his shoulders, exploring the muscles you’ve been thirsting over.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open wider to accept him in, a small groan slipping out of you.

God, he’s such a good kisser- you’re completely lost in him.

In the periphery, music is thrumming through you, but it’s muffled, disappearing as you fall deeper under the spell of Wonwoo’s kiss.

Things are getting hot and heavy fast, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed that you’re making out with Wonwoo while surrounded by people, besides, something tells you they won’t care.

You can feel something on your lower abdomen, a pressure- and you realize that just kissing you has made Wonwoo hard in his jeans.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on that you can hardly breathe. You break the kiss, gasping. “Your room?”

“Not right now,” comes his immediate response.

“What?” You can’t help the way you feel crushed at the rejection-

“Not with the party,” Wonwoo clarifies. “I want to take my time with you, want you to be comfortable- having people fucking around outside my room while I’m exploring you isn’t my idea of a great first time.”

“That actually makes sense,” you concede.

“But… I’m okay to keep doing this,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then his mouth begins to move down to your throat, his tongue tasting your sweet spot.

You release a moan, wrapping your arms around the tall nerd. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.”

Ten:

Wonwoo carefully walks to the kitchen, avoiding spilled liquor on the floor from the party the night before. He’s so focused on his footsteps that he almost doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s aura until he’s right next to him.

The frat boy is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his cereal. “So…” Jeonghan muses with a grin, “that girl, huh?”

“What girl?” Wonwoo sighs.

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “The one you were making out with at the party for hours. You know, the one that keeps coming here for ‘tutoring.’”

“I helped her with an essay.”

“Sure you did.” Jeonghan pushes off the kitchen counter. “It’s cute, our resident demon has a heart.”

Wonwoo freezes, realizing that Jeonghan might be onto something, but he’ll never admit it out loud. “No, I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Eleven:

“Well look who it is,” Jeonghan grins as he opens the door to the frat. You wonder why it’s always him, why no one else is ever hanging around the living room, but you decide it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Hi,” you smile softly.

“Guessing you know where to go,” Jeonghan muses, opening the door wider so you can enter.

With one more nod to the frat boy, you make your way to Wonwoo’s room.

You knock on the door, and like the very first time you’d been here, it swings open with ease. Wonwoo’s sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks so sexy like this, so domestic-

“Happy November,” Wonwoo says.

You laugh. “Happy November.” You close the door behind yourself, standing there awkwardly. You know what you’re here for, know what you want from him now that your essay is complete- “You’re not practicing, you know, No Nut November, or anything, are you?”

Wonwoo laughs, setting his book down on his bedside table along with his glasses. “No, I’m not practicing No Nut November.”

“Good.”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Get over here.”

You make your way to the bed, sitting carefully next to him. “What were you reading?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” he responds casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be reading poetry from the thirteen hundreds.

“Wow,” you laugh, “that definitely pushes the whole demon angle.”

“I’m a deal maker, Sweetheart, the whole demon thing is overdone.” He wraps his arm around you, prompting you to cuddle up to his chest.

“And yet, your door opens on its own,” you point out.

“And?”

“As crazy as this sounds…” you take a deep breath, “I guess I’m wondering if there’s any… legitimacy to the whole demon thing.”

“How would you feel if there was?” he counters.

“I suppose I wouldn’t believe it, not really.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?”

“Maybe there’s no point.” You look up at him, marveling at his handsome features.

“So kiss me and forget about it,” he prompts, his fingers finding the bottom of your chin and making you look up at him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, closing the gap between your lips.

He holds you tighter as your lips mesh, half pulling you onto his chest as his tongue explores your own. God, he still feels so good- part of you had wondered if you’d been a little tipsy the last time you kissed him, and that’s why it had felt so good- but no, this is just Wonwoo, this is just the power he has over you.

You adjust so you’re straddling him, his hands finding your hips to encourage you while you cup his face, enjoying the feeling.

You begin to wiggle, grinding down softly onto him. His cock is already hardening in his sweatpants- you love how easy it is to turn him on. It does wonders for your ego as you dry hump him, beginning to moan at the sensation on your clit.

You’re not usually this type of person, not the mega-sexual, but something about Wonwoo is making you feral. It helps that you both know why you’re here- helps that he’d rescheduled this fuck session so you wouldn’t be having your first time with a wild Halloween rager just outside his door.

Things are just comfortable with him, it’s clear you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and that turns you on even more.

One of his hands begins to glide up from your waist, skimming the underwire of your bra. You move his palm even further up, so he’s grasping your breast, and he squeezes deliciously, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Wonwoo grins into your kiss, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you even closer as he massages your chest.

You grind harder onto his cock, loving the feeling-

One flip has Wonwoo on top of you, and you whimper at the change in power dynamics. He moves his hips fluidly, applying more pressure to your already throbbing clit-

Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, looking down at you with dark eyes. “So do I need to grab a condom, Sweetheart?”

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him. “Are you clean?”

“I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah.” You lean closer, eagerly pressing your lips to his again. You’re so lost in him, nothing else matters.

Wonwoo’s hands begin to explore you again, and then he pulls away to tug on your shirt. “Off.”

You sit up, removing the fabric, exposing your bra to him.

Wonwoo looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so pretty, Sweetheart.” His fingers tease the strap of your bra. “How’d a pretty little thing like you ever find your way to me?”

“The essay-”

“You’re so innocent though, I could tell from the moment I met you. You wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“No, I don’t cheat.”

“And you still don’t, you did the whole essay yourself.”

“With help from you,” you blush.

“No, Sweetheart, it was all you.” Wonwoo kisses you again, shutting up any argument you have about using his notes.

He makes you feel so good- it’s such a safe space, and it’s the type of situation you’re not used to. The lack of judgement, the complete support- it helps you relax, helps you get even further lost in his kiss as you make out, the both of you wriggling and grinding against each other. You love the feeling of his body, the feeling of being here with him, completely enraptured mind and soul.

Wonwoo’s lips trail down to your throat, and he begins to descend. He reaches your chest, and you breathe heavily, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

His fingers hook in the cup of your bra, and he pauses to look up at you, as if he’s asking for your permission. “Do it,” you tell him, trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo grins, pulling your bra down so he can access your tits fully. His tongue flicks at your sensitive nipple, and you groan at the sensation, arching your back to push your chest closer to his face.

Wonwoo’s lips suction around the sensitive bud next, and God, it feels amazing.

Your pussy is practically throbbing- can women cum from breast stimulus alone? You might find out if he keeps this up.

His hands cup your tits, pushing them together, and then he begins to lick at both of your nipples, switching from one to the other in a pace that has you grabbing his hair, whimpering in desperation.

You feel like you’re on fire- you feel alive, writhing on this hot nerd’s bed. It feels dirty, but it feels so right too.

He continues on your breasts for a short while, until you’re good and needy, then he makes his way to your jeans.

“I want you naked,” he tells you.

“Then get me naked,” you counter, still breathless.

With a wink, Wonwoo pulls your jeans down, and you work on your bra. Soon, you’re completely naked from him, and unlike other times you’ve gotten with men, you don’t feel an ounce of shame.

This feels so right, and as Wonwoo begins kissing up your thighs, prompting your legs open, you just know that sex is never going to be the same.

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours as he takes a lick of your pussy, and you both groan. His lips suction around your clit and your muscles spasm. He pulls away with a grin, breath hot on your aching core. “So wet already,” he muses.

“I need you,” you whimper.

“You have me,” he promises, diving back into your heat.

He doesn’t hold anything back. He eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit in the world, like your pussy juices are a nectar he needs for life itself.

You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you’re a little shocked at the speed of all of this, however, you suppose the foreplay had done a number on you as well.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, abdomen tensing.

“Cum for me,” he breathes heavily against your clit. “Want you to cum on my tongue.”

His lips wrap around your clit again, and two more harsh sucks are all it takes to send you over the edge. You gasp desperately, entire body tensing before the moment of your release.

Hot waves of pleasure erupt over your form, all consuming. You can hardly breathe, can only gasp in ecstasy as he works you through your high.

You’re not sure how long your orgasm lasts, only that you’re out of breath and brain dead by the time Wonwoo pulls away.

You can hardly open your eyes to look up at him as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are so full of lust- and for the first time, he looks truly demonic. But you’re not scared, you’re intrigued, in the best possible way.

“Fuck me,” you tell him quietly.

Wonwoo grins, and his canines flash in the light. “You got it, Sweetheart.”

He grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it off his head to reveal chiseled chest muscles. He’s got more of a sleeper build- the kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be muscled, except that under layers of fabric, he’s actually sculpted by the Gods.

You can hardly breathe as he pulls his sweatpants down, and you’re practically drooling by the time he gets back on top of you, his lips hot against your own.

You cup the back of his neck, kissing him desperately, wiggling your hips, eager for stimulation.

Wonwoo concedes, rutting so his cock drags through your drenched pussy lips.

Neither of you say anything, you keep lip locked as he finally pushes into you. You both release gasps of pleasure, breathing the kiss to press your foreheads together as he sheaths further inside of you.

You open your eyes, looking up at Wonwoo, who meets your gaze with a fierceness that sets your insides on fire.

He’s so beautiful- you’d checked his head for horns, but you can almost see an outline of demonic features- you must be dreaming, must be so lost in him that you’re seeing things. You close your eyes, drawing your lips to his again as he begins to fuck you.

Each thrust his hard, the tip of his long cock kissing your cervix. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but the feeling becomes pleasurable much too quickly. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, clawing at his broad shoulders.

“You feel so good,” he tells you.

“No, your cock feels good,” you correct him.

“Agree,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “to disagree.”

You laugh, and Wonwoo groans at the way your giggle makes your muscles clench even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep breath.

He pulls away suddenly, and he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift you into the air. He positions your knees together, so you’re in doggy, and then he pushes himself back into your aching hole.

Shit- things feel even tighter in this positon, and you claw at his bed, burying your face in his duvet as he plows into you. His grip is rough on your hips, but you don’t even care- if Wonwoo continues to give you cock like this, he could do anything he wanted to you, any position, and you wouldn’t mind.

Each snap of his hips sends the sound of skin on skin through his room, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re more concerned about the fact that you can feel another orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, and your pussy is clenching even tighter around him now.

“You’re close again, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh, so deep-” you whimper.

“Rub your clit for me,” he instructs. “Wanna feel it.”

You adjust, bringing your fingers to your sensitive bud. You begin to stoke yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out as he rails into you.

Wonwoo shifts, bringing one knee up so his foot is flat on the bed, giving himself better manueverabilty to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he groans, squeezing your hips. “Make me cum.”

The knowledge that your high will set off his own makes you even more eager to please him, and you rub your clit even harder, whimpering desperately.

Wonwoo lets out a grunt, and the sound is music to your ears. How is he so sexy? When did a man grunting become sexy?

Fuck, you work yourself even harder, and Wonwoo matches your enthusiasm with his thrusts, his hands pulling your hips back to meet him with each motion.

“I’m close-” you tell him, your pussy gripping him so hard-

“Let go for me,” he responds. “Need to feel it.”

A few more circular motions on your clit has you exploding, a loud whimper escaping your lips as your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. Your entire body is alight, muscles working overtime as you contract around him.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his pace faltering as he cums inside you, filling you with a warmth that makes you spasm beneath him.

You continue to moan as he fucks you through your highs until you’re both breathless. You can feel him breathing on your back, can feel each puff-

Your own chest is heaving with effort, your eyes closed as the last inklings of euphoria sparkle through you.

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your hips gently, and neither of you have anything to say as you recuperate.

Finally, Wonwoo gently traces your spine with a finger. “I’m going to pull out,” he tells you. “Grab you a tissue.”

“Okay.” You nod against his bed, still too blurry from your orgasm to think too hard about anything.

The loss of his cock from your aching hole is one you feel everywhere, and you whimper, cupping your pussy to stop any cum from dripping onto his bed.

Wonwoo returns quickly, moving your hand so he can press tissue to your core. “Give it a sec, and when you’re ready we can put on some clothes and head to the bathroom.”

You stay on your knees for a few more seconds before mustering your energy. When you’re finally able to stand, Wonwoo helps you up. He pulls sweatpants up your legs, followed by a hoodie to cover your bare chest.

Then, he takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where you both clean up.

Everything is a blur until you get back to his bedroom, where you collapse onto the mattress against his chest, eyes closed.

Wonwoo’s hand smooths up and down your arm. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you something.”

You can hear the seriousness in his tone, and you force your eyes open, looking up at him questioningly.

“I was going to wait-” Wonwoo admits, “it’s something I’ve never told anyone, not in so many words at least.” You wait for him to continue. “The whole demon thing… there’s some truth to it.”

“But… I checked for horns?” you say, confused.

“We don’t have horns, Sweetheart. We’re deal makers. You gave me your necklace, it has a soultie to your ex, one day, I’m going to drag that asshole to hell.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. “Sure you are, Wonwoo.”

“You don’t believe me,” he muses, lifting your hand so he can kiss your knuckles gently.

“I told you I wouldn’t, so what does it even matter?”

“I just wanted to start things right,” he confesses. “Wanted to do this right.”

“This?” you counter, grinning up at him.

“Us. I want to give it a shot, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested,” you admit. “But… I think, right now, I just need a little sleep.”

“Then sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and with a smile and a deep breath, you finding yourself drifting into the most blissful sleep of your life. Demon or not, Wonwoo makes you feel protected, and that’s not something you’ll ever take lightly.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love Wonwoo!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “You look so good like this, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Being so good for me, so corruptible-” He has a bit of a corruption kink, but he’s never forced it on you. No, he’d shown you his toys, and allowed you to choose the pace on everything. You feel so comfortable with him, and it allows you to fully connect with yourself and your pleasure.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of sex toys, flogger, vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, breast worship, nipple clamps, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praise, soft dom Wonwoo, fingering, slight pain kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) Sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a few months of dating Wonwoo, and you’ve realized the whole demon thing is completely real. It was an adjustment at first, but he’d explained everything about it. There are certain demons who do the darker stuff, but Wonwoo truly considers himself a deal maker above all else. He doesn’t kill, even though, with his power, he could.

No, he’s a mellow demon, if there is such a thing.

It’s an opposites attract type of situation, and Wonwoo’s spent countless nights admiring your aura, discussing what it is exactly that makes you the light Yin to his dark Yang. He loves you for all of your differences, and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a person- or, should you say, demon.

He’s an ageless man with a thirst for knowledge, and you’re so attracted to his deep understanding of all things literate or scientific. You find yourself constantly learning new knowledge from him, and every day you spend together is a dream you never could have even wished for.

Aside from all the educational learning experiences you have with Wonwoo, you’ve also begun to explore his sexual knowledge, and it’s a journey you never thought you’d find yourself on.

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casharlow · 1 year ago

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sorry for stalking but your endless summer screenshots are making me want to replay it SO bad that series had no right being as good as it was 😭 -bladesoflightandshadow

that’s my goal 😎 the more people i can get playing and talking about endless summer in the year 2023 the better. don’t even think. just do it. replay. it’s ok it won’t leave you emotionally devastated about the lack of a happy ending for everyone no matter what you choose. it’s totally ok don’t even think about it haha it’s just a silly little island adventure with found family such fun times.

#seriously replaying it for the first time in years made me remember just how good it is in its plot and characters ESPECIALLY compared #to the majority of other choices books #and the fact that it isn’t really talked about anymore is a crime #i’m glad i’ve been able to reawaken people’s love for the story with my replay posts #asks #i also have yet to finish the last 6 chapters of book 3 so the replay isn’t done yet despite me putting off ending it for so long

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0mg-bird · 2 months ago

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Lover’s Rock~ S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer isn’t the only one that stands out in the crowd, but maybe that’s a good thing, because that’s what leads him to you.

Warnings: I didn’t really proof read, I’ll do it later lol. 18+ content towards the end. Um Reid is such a dweeb and adorable???? Fluff, mentions of alcohol and embarrassment. Reader is so twee (can we bring twee back or no?) idk she makes questionable fashion choices.

Really, this wasn’t your thing.

The bar scene, the club dresses all the girls where, the high heels and the whole game of cat and mouse that all the guys want to play. But you’re here, you made an effort to appease your best friends who claim you have no social life.

The entire night so far, they watched you strike out with the guys they motioned over because in their mind, you’re desperate and lonely and lame.

Okay, maybe that’s more of your headspace than theirs, but they’ve been offering you pity glances this whole time.

You’ve made a decision a while ago that maybe there was no romance out there for you. You were just born with some aspect that made normal, sane guys physically run away, and maybe that’s fine. You were really good on your own. And it never did feel right when you had a guy, if it didn’t feel like the movies, it wasn’t worth it.

Right?

Okay, maybe you should settle, at some point, you’ll be too old to marry and you’ll just keep working, with no real life and take care of Shelly, your goldfish. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be someone to share things with.

You let out a huff and watch the ice melt in your drink, not bothering to smile when your friend tells you to brighten up.

Normally, you’re a ray of sunshine, but something about getting rejected four consecutive times is raining on your parade.

An entire bar full of happy people in their element, and it’s just you, sticking out like a sore thumb, especially when your friends go dance with a few guys they hit it off with.

Too busy looking at the buckle on the ankle strap of your heel, you are sinking somewhere in your mind, to a place where you aren’t listening to cheap song lyrics of and realizing that table is stickier than you thought.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Reid.”

“Spencer!” Penelope smacks his shoulder, pulling him from the trance of his eyes on the book pages.

He looks up from the corner booth, seeing his team has returned with drinks.

“Are you seriously reading right now?” Morgan criticizes, placing a beer in front of the younger agent.

Spencer doesn’t know why he does this, beer tastes like a plowed hay field in his opinion. But he takes the drink in gratitude and before he can explain that he was just trying to finish the Russian publishing of ‘Crime and Punishment’, Morgan rips the book from his hands and tosses it to Emily for safe keeping.

“I- what was that for?” Spencer questions with a unjust squeak, feeling rather sad.

“Look around, kid, do you see how many fine ladies are here? You don’t need to be sitting here with your nose between the pages of Little Women.” Morgan states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah, nobody puts baby in the corner.” Penelope agrees.

With an airy scoff, Spencer looks to the other members for help, but they all seem to side with Derek.

He gains a defeated frown.

Spencer didn’t want to be here in the first place, now he’s being forced out into the public to socialize. There has to be a law against this, he knows there’s not because he knows everything, but he is certainly going to try and create one.

“Oh come on, Spence, why don’t you try to get a date?” JJ asks, meaning well, but the laugh that comes from Emily makes him want to recoil.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.” Morgan offers, pulling him from the booth seat.

“Yeah, that never really works well when you try to be my wingman, you usually end up with all the phone numbers.” Spencer claims, pressing his lips into a line.

But like some mock savior, Morgan stands behind Reid as they wait by the bar.

“What about her?” Morgan would point out.

To which Reid would respond with some variation of ‘she’s too much’ or ‘she definitely has a boyfriend three times my size’.

After fifteen minutes of this back and forth, Morgan is seriously regretting he forced the hermit out of his shell.

And that’s when a rowdy group finally leaves and clears the path of vision to you.

Still sat at a high table with one leg crossed over the other, you wiggle your foot as you doodle on a drink napkin.

Reid misses whatever Morgan says, and in that air of silence, the agent follows the vision.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Derek chuckles, clapping Reid on the shoulder. “She’s pretty. Go talk to her.”

“What?” Reid looks away. “No, no, I don’t want to disturb her.”

You let out a very bored sigh.

Derek’s brows furrow. “I know you’re some boy genius but you really are dumb sometimes. Everything about that girl is screaming ‘put me outa my misery’.”

Spencer tilts his head slightly, watching you rub your eye and then frown at the way you smudged your already smudged eye liner.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” He nods. “But…what do I say?”

Derek grins. “Compliment her, ask if she wants another drink, strike up a conversation. It’s easy, man.”

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling in him, but he still braves through it. “Easy for you, maybe.” He mumbles before running a hand through his hair and takes a step towards you.

“Go get her, tiger!” Morgan encourages.

When he returns to the team with the happy news, Penelope asks if Spencer’s gonna do good.

“Oh, definitely not, we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t trip over his own feet on the way over there.” Derek answers, laughing.

But Spencer makes it to you without a stumble, yet his whole plan leaves his mind when he gets to you.

You’re gorgeous, too pretty for him.

“Nice legs.”

Did he just say that?

You look up at him upon hearing his voice, your wide eyes confused.

“I’m sorry?” You question, not sure if you heard this stranger correctly.

He’s a rather handsome stranger.

“No- I mean I like your legs- tights! Not your legs, you have nice legs of course but that’s not- your tights are nice- cool! Different?”

Oh god, he should just walk away now. He’s already messed this whole thing up and surely you think he’s an idiot.

While he’s got an embarrassed look on his face, you look down at the red lace tights you wear under your skirt, something your friends questioned as a fashion choice.

“You really like them?” You ask, voice soft to his ears.

He stops his rambling.

“Yeah, of course I do, I think they’re cool.” He smiles softly.

You can’t help but grin bashfully.

“Every guy I’ve talked to tonight thought they were a little weird, but that’s okay, I kinda like weird.” You admit, watching as he shakes his head.

“People say my socks are weird all the time, don’t feel bad.” He comforts, pulling the material of his pants up so you can see his mismatched socks with funky colors and prints on them.

“Those are cool.” Your approval eases him, giving him just enough reassurance that you aren’t going to scream for help in the next two minutes.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid- sorry, force of habit, uh, just Spencer. I-I’m Spencer.” He introduces with the smallest of wave.

Still smiling more than you have the entire night, you greet him. He repeats your name like it has some special meaning, and you’ve never loved the sound of it more.

“I was going to get a drink, what are you having?” He asks, looking at your sweating glass. “Vodka soda? Cherry sour?”

You blush. “It’s actually a shirley temple…I just ate all the cherries out of it already.”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

He leaves you at your table, and then your brief moment of sunshine is clouded once more by doubt. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he drugs your drink and then you wake up in an alley somewhere, missing your wallet and phone and your tights that he thinks are so cool?

This was a bad idea. Dating isn’t for you. He seemed so nice and he’s so attractive but that should have been your first red flag and-

Oh. He’s coming back.

With two shirley temples.

He places them on the table and waits for you to grab one, then he grabs the other and takes a sip.

“You mind if I sit?” He asks.

Feeling a little silly for assuming he was out to maim you, you nod.

“I seriously doubt my friends remember I’m over here, so feel free to stay.” You joke at your expense.

He sits across from you, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his team who make it very obvious that they’re staring.

You study his profile, a shaggy haircut that falls across his forehead, all tousled in an effortless way. His jaw line is defined, round brown eyes that flick back to you. When he catches you looking, he grins once more.

It’s never been so…easy, having a ‘get to know you’ conversation. Questions come without second thoughts, you find yourself laughing, actually laughing.

Playing with your straw, you try to calm your facial expressions, your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming so much.

“So, Dr. Reid, huh?” You ask, making him let out a small huff of embarrassment.

“That’s what the PhD’s say, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling really dorky about his immense amount of education.

It’s not dorky to you. Every guy you’ve talked to tonight dropped out of community college because ‘it didn’t align with their career paths’ of selling protein smoothies or working in some ‘underground’ record store.

But here Spencer is, explaining he’s on the behavioral analysis unit for the FBI and he tells you about all the degrees he has. All you can think about as he talks of universities and the academy is, knowledge is such a sexy look on a guy. Sure, you’ve never really liked the underachieving stoners, but usually you’ve been with guys who seem to say “you like school?” when you talk about working towards your Masters degree.

“Wow.” Is all you can say for a moment, clearly shocked and, well, impressed. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“That’s what most people say.” He nods, picking the cherry in his drink out by the stem and offering it to you.

By your thankful eyes batting up at him, he’s tempted on going behind the bar and bringing you all the maraschino cherries they have. He quickly turns the conversation around to focus on you so he can focus on something other than the stained color on your lips.

“What about you? What do you do?” He asks.

Compared to his job, yours seems too normal, too mundane. You almost want to avoid the question, never once have you been unsatisfied with your career but now you can’t help it. What if Spencer doesn’t like you because you don’t work for NASA?

That’s ridiculous, because to Spencer, your job makes his adoration grow.

“Oh, I’m just a teacher.” You say, fiddling with a stem in your mouth.

Spencer gains a soft smile. “You could never just be a teacher, teacher’s are important. Well, unless you’re a sucky teacher.”

His joke earns a bubbly giggle and he decides he’d like to hear that sound forever. It’s moments like this that he’s glad to have an eidetic memory.

“I don’t think I’m a sucky teacher so that’s good, my students seem to like me.” You state, pushing your hair behind your ear and dropping the knotted stem onto a napkin.

Spencer finds himself leaning a little closer, body naturally gravitating to your pull. “What do you teach?” He asks.

“I work for my schools gifted children program, so I basically teach kid geniuses advanced core curriculum because they’ve tested out of their normal classes.” You chuckle, oblivious to the way Spencer’s heart warms.

He remains quiet for a bit too long, just staring at you with an honest look, one that makes you feel like you’re turned inside out and bared for him. The panic rises again, you think you must have said something to ruin it.

“I know it’s nothing special-” You begin to say.

“No.” He interrupts, a sure tone. “I-I think it’s great. Really, that’s not an easy job.”

Deep breath out, you’re put at ease.

“I constantly have imposter syndrome, these kids are twelve and bringing up philosophies and mathematical formulas I have to go home and study because I haven’t even learned them yet. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even think they need me there.” You joke lightly, half meaning it but masking that slight insecurity by finishing off your drink.

“They need you.” Spencer assures, an expression showing he’s never been more sure of something. “Believe me, you’re probably the only person they see in a school day that understands them.”

Brows creased, you shake your head, holding his rather intimidating gaze for such puppy dog eyes.

“What makes you so sure?” You question.

Spencer takes in a breath. “Because I know what it’s like to be twelve years old and telling a grown adult about Fermat’s Last Theorem.”

Sometimes, the world has a funny way of putting two people together. For years, you’ve wandered through life and on a random Friday night, feeling a little flushed from the Summer air, here is Spencer Reid, the man of your dreams.

Your friends left some time ago after you assured them you were fine to be left at the place you were just complaining about being. You don’t mind being left with Spencer, in fact, you’re dreading the time you have to go home because it means this moment is over.

“I really would like to live in New York.” You exclaim, somehow have fallen into the rabbit hole of dreams for the future.

“New York’s really cool!” He agrees. “Did you know that they have a homicide rate of 4.48 percent right now? It’s been declining since the nineties.”

You must make some sort of surprised face because his eyes go wide and he quickly tried to recover his odd statement.

“Sorry, my job isn’t really full of happy statistics. But mostly we just find dead prostitutes in alleys in New York.”

His blushed cheeks make your heart flutter in its beats.

“I’m glad I’m not a prostitute.” You giggle, making him chew his bottom lip for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re not either.”

By the time the team gets their coats back on with the intention of heading home, they look across the room to see their quirky doctor friend is partaking in very friendly body language.

“Oh my god, look at him.” Emily laughs. “He’s finally using that big IQ of his.”

Penelope, who comes to hold onto Morgan’s arm, grins rather proudly. “It’s like a butterfly finally coming out of its cocoon. It’s…beautiful, actually.”

Derek laughs down at her. “I think that last long island ice tea was a bad idea. Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Good luck, my fine friend.” She calls in the general direction of you and Spencer, but the two of you don’t notice.

JJ ties her hair up and starts to take a few steps forward.

“Where are you going?” Penelope questions.

“To let him know we’re leaving?”

“No!” The team seems to exclaim, all shouting that she cannot disturb the moment Spencer worked rather hard to get to.

She just holds her hands up in defense, then follows after Emily as they leave the bar.

Spencer of course notices the way Prentiss leaves him with an encouraging thumbs up. It makes his get a little bashful, but he nods a goodbye and watches the door shut once more. His attention is brought back to his hand on the table, well, more to the way your pinky brushes against his. You continue to talk about mutual interests and what your apartment in New York would look like, a slight ramble to you that shows you’re very aware of the slight contact.

With some kind of placebo courage he can’t even blame on alcohol, he lets his fingers crawl between yours like that’s where they belong.

The team would definitely laugh at this teenage display, but to the both of you, it’s the perfect amount of reassurance, soft enough to not be too scary.

The attraction is there, Spencer forces himself to profile it just so his negative thoughts can’t prove him wrong. You’re smiling at every word, your eyes seem to stay dilated and focused on his, and he isn’t sure if you even realize the way your heel brushes his ankle every so often.

His profile, often never wrong, is what helps him reach across the slight space to tuck your hair behind your ear so casually as he tells you about his minuscule music taste.

After a few flirty comments, you force yourself yo look away from him just so you can het your breathing under control. Upon this action, you read the watch on his wrist and a frown sets on your lipstick stained lips.

“I should go home before it’s too late to walk.” You sigh, not wanting this moment to end.

He nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Those round eyes he’s starting to really adore look up at him and you chew your lip, almost like you’re waiting for him to do something. Say something.

It takes him entirely too long to figure out what to do. Morgan would be ashamed.

“C-Can I walk you home?” He asks in a rush and in eagerness.

You nod like that’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.

That’s how it leads to you leaning against him like it’s something you do often, walking in step as you ramble on and on about what you have to do to get your classroom ready for the new school year. He listens without annoyance like most guys would, then tells you about books he has that he thinks you might enjoy, books he could part with so you could give them to the students whose reading levels are above what the school provides.

He’s so caring and considerate, making sure he walks closest to the street, lets you be off in your own world and makes sure you don’t run into anything as you constantly gaze up at him. All the way to your building and up the stairs to your apartment door, the two of you are as comfortable with each other like two old friends would be.

That’s what makes your head spin. You just met Spencer and already feel like he’s been in your life for hundreds of years.

You pull your keys from your purse, you unlock the door but don’t make a move to open it.

“I’m really, really, happy that I met you.” You whisper to him as he slightly crowds your space in the door way.

“I am too.” He agrees, heart beating a little faster as your hand presses gently to his chest.

Don’t be crazy, you just met her, she doesn’t want a stranger trying to kiss her, tell her good night, call her tomorrow, maybe you can plan for something next weekend-

His thoughts don’t stand a chance when you wrap your fingers around his tie and gently tug him to your lips.

It’s smooth and warm and has your eyes shutting and your lungs exhaling. His gentle hand cradles your face while the other flexes against your hip.

It just feels so…

So right.

With the slight tilt of your head, the goodnight kiss deepens, you’re molded against him.

His lips part, coaxing yours to do the same, and the feeling of your tongue against his has you slightly teetering backwards. You lean against the door for support, hands roaming into his hair.

You’ve been wanting to run your hands through it all night.

He’s desperate in his movements, like he’s a starved man and you’re enjoying every second of it. His thumb runs over your jaw, you’re pushing away any space between you.

When you decide you’re going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you pull away, sucking your bottom lip to savor the taste. Spencer still holds your face in his large hands and matches your shallow pants.

It’s all so much. You’re hot, brain a little foggy, but still so sure of this situation.

And you soon find yourself saying something you’ve never ever said after just meeting a guy.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Spencer seriously thinks he misheard you.

“Yeah- yes. Yes, I do.” He nods.

A laugh escapes your lips, one he swallows up as he embraces you once more, trying to help you open the door. His arm around your waist makes sure you don’t stumble and fall as the two of you finally get inside.

He looks around the space. “I like your apartment, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.” You mumble against his lips, pulling at your jean jacket and tossing it to the couch.

It’s dark, causing you to back into a side table. The both of you laugh, but neither of you bother to reach for the light switch.

You guid him towards your bedroom, pushing him through the ajar door. The open window leaves the room painted in a low light, the breeze is cool as you clumsily fall onto the mattress with him.

“I never do this.” You state, a huff leaving your lips as he rolls you onto your back.

“I don’t either.” He agrees, mouth wandering down your jaw to your neck.

You fiddling hands make a home in his hair. “Like I really don’t do this. I don’t even go to bars, let alone take home strange men- not that you’re strange. But don’t think I am a casual hookup girl, because I’m not, I just- there’s a connection, right? I’m not alone in this?”

He pulls away, looking down at you with a loopy grin. “You’re rambling, that’s a sign of nervousness.”

“I am nervous!” You exclaim with a breathy laugh. “You’re just…you’re really great.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You’re really great too.” He whispers. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“No!” You say a little too boldly. “I mean, no, no I want this. Do you want this?”

With a nod, he assures you. “I want this too.”

Maybe you should be more shy and self conscious about this, but when he’s being so kind, all your nervousness leaves. The two of you stumble through the awkward bits with laughter and jokes, and it makes you realize that something so serious doesn’t have to be so uniform.

Really, you’re having more fun than you’ve ever had.

“Spencer?” You gasp, dangerously close to falling off the bed at how the two of you have rolled around.

“Yeah?” He asks, head buried in your neck, trying not to get too ahead of himself as he continues his deep pace between your legs.

“You’re kinda pulling my hair.”

Immediately he moves his hand, apologetic.

Hands dragging up his chest, you try to shimmy away from the mattress ledge. Spencer notices the tragedy that’s about to strike, opting to back off of you completely so you can readjust.

You gasp at the loss of contact. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He stammers, gripping you in a feverish way, mouth back to yours.

You don’t exactly know how you ended up on top, but you look at him slightly frightened eyes.

“Is this a no?” He questions, only concerned with making you comfortable.

He’s the complete opposite of selfish, he proved that the second he started you off with his tongue against your core.

“No, not if you like this? I just…I don’t know if I’m good at this.”

He nods in understanding. “Okay, no problem.”

You protest as he goes to move you. “Can I try? Will-will you help me?”

God, he could marry you.

“Yeah, of course sweetheart.” He whispers, kissing you gently.

The butterflies in your stomach are all twitter pated.

Or maybe you’re just extremely turned on.

Spencer is a great teacher, it’s you who jumps the gun at things.

“There you go, angel, slow.” He breathes in your ear, finger tips pressing into your hips as you slowly push down, letting his tip enter you. “Just go really slow, okay?”

You try to do as he says, easing him into you slowly, but by some urge to rush satisfaction, you sink all the way onto him without warning.

“Fuck! That wasn’t slow.” He grits, a hoarse moan escaping from the back of his throat, his grip on you almost bruising.

“S-sorry.” You try to say, but the sheer pressure you feel at this sudden angle has you shuddering and crying out softly. “I’m an overachiever.” You try to joke.

“Holy shit, you want an A+ or something?” He chuckles, trying to calm himself down, running through mathematical formulas in his head so he doesn’t finish just like this.

“Spence, I need- it’s a lot, I need-” You whine out, not having the heart to feel embarrassed for sounding so needy.

“I know, I know. Fuck, do you have any idea how good you feel?” He questions, swallowing hard as he guides your hips forward slightly.

“I can’t really think at all when you’re sitting in my cervix right now.” You claim, quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as you find a rhythm against him.

Sucking on your throat, he mutters something you don’t care to listen to.

“This is- is it supposed to be this good?” You moan, trying not to dig your finger nails into his shoulders.

“I think we just fit perfectly.”

With each movement, you become more comfortable and confident, soon that friendly softness is replaced by lustful roughness. Through it all, Spencer remains caring, even when you tell him he can be a little rough with you.

Never in your sex life have you wanted more and more, even when it finishes.

Even after the two of you can’t find the strength to pull any more orgasms from each other, you lay beside each other, Spencer hasn’t bothered to pull out of you yet, perhaps he’s too spent.

“So.” You clear your throat, tracing his features. “How do you want to play this?”

He hums, dragging his fingers up and down your side. “What do you mean?”

“Guys usually leave after this stuff, right?”

His brows furrow, anxiety comes to ripple through him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Staring at his tired eyes, you shake your head. “No, I want you to stay. Forever. I’m thinking about chaining you to the headboard.”

He chuckles. “I’ll save you the effort, I will gladly stay.”

A sweet smile is returned to him.

At some point, the two of you clean up and fall asleep the second the sheets are pulled over you.

Spencer is convinced it’s all a dream until he wakes up to the sun warm over his skin. He rubs his blurry eyes and rolls over in the bed that is not his, met with your bare back. Slowly, he reaches for you, kissing your shoulder to rouse you.

His phone, still in the pocket of his discarded pants, rings again and again, forcing him to retrieve it in his boxers.

Of course it’s Hotch.

Of course he needs to get to the office. On a Saturday. After the night he just had.

“I should call the authorities, there’s a cute intruder in my room.” Your sleepy voice says from bed. “Oh wait…you are the authorities.”

He likes the way you can make yourself giggle.

“I have bad news.” He says, tracking down his clothes. “My boss just called me in.”

He hates the frown you have.

“That’s a very unfortunate thing.” You nod.

He buttons his pants, then slides his shirt on as he comes to your bedside.

“I should get going so I can go home and change.”

His warm hand presses to your cheek.

You turn to kiss his palm. “Is this goodbye?”

“No. Definitely no.” He assures. “I’ll call when I can, okay? Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

You could sigh heavenly at the way he’s just so dreamy.

“That sounds nice. I’d kiss you but I might have morning breath.” You smile.

He kisses you anyway.

And after leaving the team waiting in the round table room, he appears refreshed and in a very good mood.

He takes his seat, all eyes on him.

“Sorry I’m late, good morning.” He clears his throat.

“Good morning indeed.” Morgan chuckles, sliding him a cup of coffee.

“You okay, Reid?” Rossi asks, eyeing the agent.

“I’m great.” He smiles.

“Is that a hickey?” JJ exclaims, reveling in the way he quickly grabs for his neck, only to realize she’s joking.

“Real mature.” He mutters, knowing the entire day is going to be jokes made at his expense.

He doesn’t mind though, not when he knows his reward for all of this is you.

#spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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astupidweeb69 · 1 year ago

Text

The Roommate (Dark!Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

NSFW One-shot

Author's note: This is my first time writing smut, so sorry if this turned out bad. It's also way longer than I thought, hopefully there aren't any spelling errors. Cross posted on my AO3 account.

Warnings: Swearing. Toby being creepy, he hurts the reader, blood kink? unprotected sex, creampie, biting, it's just... a lot. (4,519 words) - Minors DNI!

___________________________________________________________

Your brother hated his new roommate.

From what you gathered from the phone calls you two had, you knew he kept to himself, was kind of creepy and left the occasional mess in the kitchen. Your brother had tried to include him when he went out with his other college friends, but he always refused. The guy was gone at odd hours during the night, and smelled like dirt and pine.

You told him it was his own fault for posting an ad for a roommate on Craigslist.

It wasn’t all bad though. He paid his rent on time, always in cash - which he slipped under your brother's bedroom door at the end of every month. Plus, he had insisted on not signing any formal documentation. The lease they had was just a last minute document drawn up for a short term stay.

Your brother would only have to put up with him for 6 months. Then he’d be gone.

But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. And your brother needed someone to pick up part of the rent last minute.

After a few months it had seemed like he’d grown accustomed to the strange ‘twitchy’ man he lived with, that is, until you told him your plans to visit.

You finally got some time off, and it was the only chance you’d get to see him. So when all the hotels in the area were fully booked you were not about to give up. And….your brother’s place had a perfectly good couch available, right?

He was reluctant at first, but after much pleading, he finally agreed.

On one condition.

Stay away from Toby.

You figured he was just being overprotective. It was kind of sweet, but he’d never been that adamant about you not talking to someone before. There must have been something seriously messed up with the guy. And to be perfectly honest, it made you second guess whether you’d actually go through with the trip out there.

But you already bought the plane ticket, and you couldn’t let that money go to waste.

So now you sat in the passenger seat of your brother's truck, the two of you making idle chit chat as he drove you back to his place from the airport.

He talked about school, the classes he was taking, what parties he’d been going to, and fraternities he’d been considering joining. That last part earned him some of your teasing about becoming a beer pong loving, “Frat Bro”.

Only after a few beats of silence, you decided to ask him something that had been bugging you since your arrival.

“Your roommate knows I’m staying at your place, right?”

It was a simple enough question. The last thing you wanted was to intrude on someone else’s living space after all.

You saw your brother grip the steering wheel harder. “Yeah. Toby should know you’re coming.” His response was curt and lacking his previous joyful tone.

“You two fighting or something?”

Your brother sighed. “No just,” He paused for a moment, and glanced at you. “He’s been acting weirder than usual.”

“Weird how?”

He didn’t say anything for a while, instead mulling over his choice of words. Not wanting to scare you, but still wanting to give you a heads up of the situation. “He’s been talking to himself. A lot.”

“That’s not that bad. Lots of people do that.” You don’t know why you felt the need to defend a person you hadn’t met yet.

Another pause. This one is longer than before.

“You haven’t heard what he’s been saying.”

______________________________________________________________

The road ahead was dark, lit up by the dim headlights of the car. The only thing out here now was trees, broken up by the occasional house. It was definitely far from campus.

The driveway was gravel, the truck rocking back and forth from the potholes and uneven terrain, finally coming to a stop in front of the house. Painted a dull plain white, one story, rather small, but it would do. It’s not like you were expecting a mansion.

After the car came to a stop, you grabbed your luggage from the backseat, following your brother to the front door where he quickly unlocked it.

The living room was sparsely decorated, with an old brown couch in the center, a small television and a coffee table littered with cans and half finished drinks.

It completely lacked a homey vibe. Definitely felt like a typical bachelor pad. You nudged his shoulder. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Hey, I’m not majoring in interior design.” Your brother shot back, beginning to walk away past the kitchen, calling out to you. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with a look of disappointment. “Already? I thought we’d, like…. watch TV or something?”

“Next time don’t get such a late flight.” His face stretched into a yawn. “There’s plenty of blankets in the closet. Try not to make too much noise.” Disappearing behind the door of his bedroom, he left you standing in the room alone with your bags.

Time for bed I guess.

You sprawled yourself out on the couch, placing a pillow on the armrest, and rolled out the fuzzy blanket you’d found over your body. You turned to face the front door. The room was pitch black, with a few beams of moonlight split up by the venetian blinds.

You picked up your phone from the coffee table by your side, figuring you could watch a few videos before you fell asleep.

The screen lit up, temporarily blinding you before your eyes adjusted. Mindlessly, you scrolled through youtube to find a thumbnail that would spark any interest.

You were about to click one, when you heard someone at the front door. Your eyes widened briefly, and you quickly shut your phone off. You don’t know why. It wasn’t like you were a kid and your mom was coming into your room to see if you were actually asleep. But it felt like you needed to shut your eyes.

So you did.

The door opened slowly, whoever it was trying to remain undetected.

However, the scent that followed gave them away immediately. You actually had to stop yourself from reacting. It was a mixture of BO, dirt, and something else. Something dead.

Without even having to look, you knew it was Toby.

Footsteps, careful and calculated. The floorboards creaking.

You waited for him to walk by, expecting him to go to his room so you could continue playing on your phone.

But he didn’t.

The movements stopped halfway through, and you heard him, on the balls of his feet, making his way over to the couch you were on.

The fuck?

You felt your throat dry up. You wanted to swallow down your nerves, but you couldn’t react. You had to continue pretending, right?

You could hear him, his voice low and soft, like velvet. A boyish tone, the occasional word being broken up by some kind of stutter, muttering things you couldn’t make out.

He stopped when he got to your side, standing right in front of your face.

If you opened your eyes right now you’d probably see him peering down. His jeans dirty and torn, honey brown stare filled with curiosity, looking at the glimpses of your curves that peaked through the blanket on top of you.

A hand reached out.

Cold, yet somehow clammy… texture rough and calloused.

He was touching you.

He was touching your face.

Don’t move. Don’t you dare even flinch.

“M-must be the ssss-sister…”

That was the first clear sentence you could understand.

He retracted his hand. But you could still hear him, the heavy breathing.

His whispering.

“Soft”

Then he left.

Only afterwards did you realize you’d been holding your breath.

______________________________________________________________

“You look awful.” Your brother commented when he saw you the next morning.

It was true that you barely slept that night, made obvious by the bags under your eyes, and the change in your complexion. The interaction with the stranger, the one you’d been warned of, had plagued your mind, stirring up thoughts that kept you awake.

You grabbed a coffee mug, pouring yourself a glass, before joining your brother at the kitchen table.

From this angle, you had a clear view of the hallway. There were three doors, one must have led to the bathroom, and the other remaining two were the bedrooms.

You only stared at one of the doors though. The one leading to Toby’s room.

You knew, at some point he’d emerge and you’d finally be able to put a face to the name. A face to the hand that touched you.

For a moment, you wondered if you should tell your brother what happened. He’d probably flip out, maybe even confront the man.

So, despite your better judgment, you decided to keep it to yourself.

He only touched your face. Sure, it was creepy as hell, but you didn’t want to cause a fight during your vacation.

Your brother clapped his hands together, getting your attention.

“So listen!” He grinned widely. “We gotta plan out the strategy for tonight.”

“Strategy?” You asked hesitantly.

“Yeah strategy. There’s a party I want to go to. Kappa Alpha is hosting it.”

You tsked, sipping your coffee. “You realize I don’t know anything about the frats here. Is that like… a popular one or?”

He nodded. “Yeah it is. I’ve been trying to get into this one for a while now, so getting the invite is a big deal.”

You frowned. You were already so tired, and the idea of going to a kegger was not exactly on your ‘to do’ list. But it was important to him. So you complied.

“Okay. What time does it-”

A door opened. You stopped talking.

Your eyes widened to look over towards the sound.

Toby was up.

The first thing you noticed was a mop of dark brown hair, unkempt, with curls that went in every direction. It was slightly greasy too, he clearly hadn’t showered in a while. There was light stubble on his jawline, and his skin was a sickly, almost gray color. A snake bite graced his lower lip, and there were a few more pieces of metal sticking out the cartilage of his ears.

He shuffled forward, looking tired, still in a pair of plaid green pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with little alien faces on them.

Once he made it into the kitchen, Toby finally glanced over. You looked away immediately, embarrassed that you were caught staring.

He was handsome. You hated to admit it. But he was. You pushed the thought out of your head, reminding yourself of who he was.

“Muh-morning….” He croaked out.

Your brother gave a little nod, just enough to acknowledge him, turning back to you while Toby started toasting a poptart.

“It starts at 9, but we should show up at 10 o'clock. I don’t want to look too eager.”

“Whuh-what starts at 9?” Toby interjected.

Both you and your brother looked at him, before nervously meeting each other's gaze.

“Oh uh!” Your brother stammered. “Just another party.” He motioned over to you with his thumb. “This is my sister, (Y/N), by the way.”

Toby’s eyes bore into yours. You swallowed, trying to give him a polite, reassuring smile.

“Nice to meet you…. Toby, right?”

You acted unsure. Like you didn’t know his name by heart. Like you hadn’t had your brother vent to you about him for hours over the phone.

“Yuh-yeah. That’s right.” He looked back at your brother. “Is the puh-party tonight?”

“Yeah it’s at a frat house. Did you…” He hesitated, before finally asking him. “Want to come?”

Toby bit his poptart, shrugging his shoulders. “I've guh-got nothing better tuh-to do.” The twitching man looked back at you, wiping some crumbs from his lip. He didn’t have emotion behind his eyes, just a weird intense focus on your face.

You pretended to be unbothered.

It didn’t work.

He noticed.

And he liked the way you squirmed.

______________________________________________________________

Toby stayed in his room the rest of the day. Occasionally going into the kitchen, grabbing a snack, usually some kind of junk food, before he’d scurry back into his little cave.

You started getting ready as soon as the sun went down. It’d been a while since you’d been to a party and you wanted to look your best. Or look like you got a full 8 hours of sleep at the very least.

Toby said he’d meet you guys there. Saying something about how he needed ‘to take care of something first’. No one questioned him. Both you and your brother glad not to have to share a car ride with him.

Loud bumping music, the kind that shook a house and pounded in your chest, enveloped you when you walked inside the frat house.

Flashing lights, a crowd in the middle of the dancefloor jumping up and down. The air was hot from too many people in a room at once. You could barely move through them all to get to the bar.

God you were going to need a drink to get through this.

Maybe even a couple.

Especially after your brother left you alone to go mingle.

One tequila shot, then two maybe three rum and cokes later. You didn’t even know how long you’d been there. Time seemed to freeze. There was only the music, only the dancing, only the bodies moving against you.

You felt hot. Your cheeks burned, and it wasn’t just from the temperature of the room anymore. The room spinned a little when you walked forward. Not enough to consider yourself completely wasted though. But enough to feel…. Friendlier.

More social.

Less inhibited.

Numb.

After a lot of struggling, you made your way to the back of the room.

You leaned against a wall, catching your breath, holding a red solo cup in your hand. You could hear people trying to hold conversations by shouting over the music.

And there were plenty of people making out. In fact, you’d say the majority of people were just straight up groping each other.

It made you a little jealous if you were being honest with yourself.

You looked around, wondering if maybe you could find someone cute. You didn’t intend on getting lucky or anything, but it would sure beat just standing there like an idiot. When was the last time you even kissed somebody?

Finally, you locked on to someone across the room. Someone with honey brown eyes. Someone familiar.

Toby.

He grinned when your eyes met. It was the first time you’d seen him do that. Large toothy canine’s, that bandage on his cheek shifting slightly.

Oh god you felt your heart flutter.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. There was something wrong with him. Your brother didn’t like him. Nobody did.

He creeped you out.

He didn’t shower.

He smelled like death.

You listed the reasons out, and damn if there weren’t a lot of them. But in the end it didn’t matter. In the end, it was painfully, woefully, obvious what was going to happen.

And you were already walking over there.

You slithered over to his side, sweating, peering up at him through your eyelashes. Trying to look cute. Desirable.

It was working.

He could’ve eaten you up if you gave him the chance.

But you didn’t know that.

You fiddled with the end of your skirt, the jacket you originally wore tied around your waist. A flush on your cheeks, you let your hand gently touch his shoulder.

“H-hey… glad to see you made it.”

He tilted his head to the side, leaning down to hear you better. It made your stomach stir with excitement, he made you feel small kneeling down like that. But you liked it. Liked that he was paying attention to you, and only you.

“Whuh-what did you say?” His breath was hot on your cheek. Using the loud music as an excuse to get closer, to touch your skin. Making the hair on your neck stick up.

You breathed heavily in his ear on purpose. “I said, I’m glad you made it.”

Toby’s lips parted, not responding at first, but not moving away either. “Oh? Yuh-yeah?” He sounded amused, voice lowering an octave. “Excited to suh-see little ole’ muh-me?”

It was kind of a stupid, cheesy thing to say. Like he didn’t really know how to flirt, but maybe saw a couple movies and memorized the lines. But it somehow worked for him.

“Oh, I’m sure nothing about you is little.”

Why did you say that?

Why?

It just came out naturally. Oh god, now your face felt flushed from embarrassment.

You felt him touch the side of your face. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, it sounded heavenly.

“Yuh-you know, I’m having trouble huh-hearing you.” He paused looking around, making sure no one was watching. You wondered why.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

That was enough to make heat travel between your thighs.

Fuck.

One meek nod from you was all he needed, before grabbing your wrist tightly.

Too tight, like he was unaware he could hurt you. Or maybe he liked causing a little pain?

He dragged you upstairs, practically lifting you with one arm, you felt like you were gliding over the steps. The muscles of his arms barely flexing under that hoodie of his, as if you were weightless.

He was strong.

You both traveled through the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone loitering in the hall. Some of the other party goers shooting you looks, but they were mostly directed towards Toby. They weren’t judging you or anything. In fact, they looked worried, maybe even a little scared. You started to wonder more about him. What was his reputation like if this was everyone’s reaction to him? Or perhaps he really just looked that scary.

So why did he turn you on?

He pushed you into an unoccupied room and flicked the light switch on.

You barely registered him locking the door behind him.

With one shove of his palm he pushed you backwards onto the bed. Your arms flailed a bit out of instinct, falling down on the mattress with an ‘oof’.

You swallowed thickly, watching him eye the way your legs had parted slightly. Your skirt hiking up dangerously on your thighs. You had to fight the urge to close them.

“Yuh-you look scared.” That velvet, sweet, voice of his was twisted by something sick.

“Are you?” His head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on his face.

“Yes.” Was your reply. You didn’t feel like you could lie to him now. Feeling too exposed to even think straight.

He licked his lips, slowly approaching you. His fingers danced across your shoulders, traveling down your arms, sending goosebumps down your spine. They were cold and calloused, just like you remembered from the night before.

“Then whuh-why did you follow me here?” He cupped the side of your face, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip. You were going to respond, but he quickly shoved his finger in your mouth, gagging you. He wanted you to suck on them, but he didn’t communicate that well. “Why duh-did you….approach me?”

You let your tongue glide over his finger. His eyes narrowed, watching your face, before he started talking to himself. “Fuckin’ stuh-stupid.”

You paused. Was he talking about you?

“Should be whuh-working tonight…” He muttered. “Target just downstairs…. Ssss-so easy…this better be worth it…..” Toby chuckled to himself like he just told a joke.

You didn’t understand what was going on. Should you just ignore him and continue?

Toby retracted his hand from your mouth.

“Sss-so pretty….” He pushed your back onto the bed, crawling over you, his broad chest heaving, face pink and eyes lidded. Pupils dilated with lust. “So…. suh-soft….(Y/N)....”

You shivered when he said your name like that, feeling your panties dampen even more than before. Especially when he started running a large hand up your inner thigh.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Yuh-you like it when I touch you…. I know you do…” Your eyes flickered down at him, letting him continue his ramblings, Toby’s face breaking into another evil looking smile. “Luh-letting me touch you last nuh-night…. Pretending to be asleep.”

Your stomach dropped. You couldn’t hide it in your face, he fucking knew.

He fucking knew the whole time.

He burst out laughing at your expression. “Yuh-you’re still not even telling me to stuh-stop now!” Toby gripped your hip with one of his hands, lifting up the hem of your shirt with the other.

Before you knew it, he tossed the fabric over to the corner.

Your bra was next.

In any other circumstances you might’ve found it cute, or funny, when he struggled with the clasp. But something told you pointing it out to him wouldn’t have been a good idea.

He groaned at the sight of your exposed torso, immediately diving into your tits. Your nipples perked at the attention.

He was right. You weren’t stopping him. Your body screamed at you to. The smell of dirt and grime, of all things dead and decaying, it permeated off of him the more he touched you.

Toby’s mouth latched on to your left breast, the other gripped tightly in his hand. You knew you’d have bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t care.

He licked and nipped at the tender flesh, the swell of your tits heaving, your head thrown back and lips parted, letting out soft moans here and there.

A noticeable bulge grinded against your leg, as he huffed, humping himself against you like a dog.

After a while, he finally lifted his head up.

Toby looked you in the eye, grinning, licking your nipple teasingly one last time, before his attention moved to your skirt.

His hands searched your sides for a zipper, he grunted out of irritation when he couldn’t find it immediately.

You took the opportunity to gently put a hand over his, guiding it to where it was. “Here.” You said softly. “Let me help you.”

His eyes snapped up to your face when you touched him.

Immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. Needy, desperate, quickly shoving his tongue down your throat. You kissed back, swirling your tongue around his, ignoring the weird taste of metal coming from his mouth. His breath was hot and heavy, kisses sloppy. You doubted he got much practice, but he seemed to be learning quickly.

He made up for it with enthusiasm.

Finally pulling away, you both unzipped your skirt together. Lifting your hips off the bed, you shimmyed them down your legs, Toby watching in fascination.

“I’m guh-gonna fuck you.” He stated matter of factly. Then he whispered something that made your blood run cold.

“...Fuck you bloody.”

Shit this guy was scary.

In a few seconds, he ripped his hoodie off, along with his shirt. His chest was heavily scarred, a noticeable slash starting from his left side over to his shoulder, and a dark happy trail rising up from the waistband of his jeans.

You didn’t comment on it, but it was worrisome. You could only imagine what would cause someone to get hurt so badly and so often.

That said, Toby was definitely toned. A bit sickly looking, but his muscles had just a hint of a six pack formed. Maybe he did more exercise than you initially thought.

He kicked off his jeans next, unceremoniously pulling his boxers down, revealing himself to you. Lazily, he stroked himself, a thick layer of precum smearing down his shaft. It was long, veiny, but not very girthy. A flushed red tip, looking painfully hard.

You pulled down your panties slowly, already soaked, and ready. The anticipation was killing you, but you wanted to make him wait for it. His Adam's apple bobbed watching you, and you liked reveling in his stares.

“Guh-gonna split you in two…” Toby murmured, to no one in particular.

He hooked his arm under one of your legs, his body shivering with need, pulling your hips against him. He glided his shaft over your cunt, rubbing your clit slowly. He noticed you tense, how you whimpered slightly, and how your slick covered him more at the action. Looking in awe like it was some revelation to him.

Toby licked his lips, before finally enveloping himself in your heat.

It was quick. Like he was slamming a drawer shut, but he immediately bottomed out. You gritted your teeth in pain, before crying out when he started viciously pounding into you.

It fucking hurt. It hurt a lot.

“Shit..! Tuh-tight!”

Obviously, your muscles had tensed around him, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden fullness of his cock stuffing you. Unable to adjust.

You whimpered when he didn’t let up, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. A dull ache between your legs as he continued thrusting. The wet sound of skin slapping together coming from where the two of you were joined, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent.

Toby inhaled sharply, before you felt his mouth open wide.

Teeth broke through your skin instantly, a warm liquid dripping down your neck.

You screamed.

You screamed louder than you ever have in your life.

You screamed bloody fucking murder.

“Toby!” Clawing at his back, trying to get him to stop, you started crying. “Toby! Please!”

Luckily for you, he released his jaw to call out “(Y-Y/N)!” Not understanding your cries weren’t from pleasure.

It egged him on, encouraged him. His pelvis slamming into yours, with no let up, your tits bouncing at the force. Itching his fingers to your clit, he rubbed it in harsh circular movements, making you tighten around him.

You babbled nonsense. Finally some of the pain subsiding for pleasure, and maybe it was the lingering effects of alcohol, or the slight blood loss, but you felt a buzzing in your head. Basically incoherent, the faster he went. The brutal, bruising speed.

The way he gripped your breast, the way his hand remained on your pearl, trying his best to get you to finish, but not quite knowing how.

Something started to build.

More and more.

Hearing him growl, pant, like an animal. It was doing something to you.

You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around him. The coil snapping, muscle spasming, pulling his cock in deeper, triggering his own climax.

His hips stuttered against you, letting out a gasp. A warmth filling you, Toby completely emptying himself inside with a deep groan, eyes rolling back in his head.

He gave a few sloppy, slow thrusts, before finally rolling off, and onto the bed next to you.

His cum leaking out of your cunt and staining the sheets.

Everything went blank for a moment, realization only just settling in. The gravity of the situation, the blood on your neck.

And an arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you close.

“I knew you’d be worth the truh-trouble.”

#creepypasta #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #my writing #ticci toby smut #creepypasta smut #fanfiction #ticci toby x you #ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader smut

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darkmatilda · 15 days ago

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𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when spencer was dealing with a migraine, he definitely preferred staying home with a good book or just going to sleep. but after losing a bet to morgan, he couldn't escape—he had to show up for a blind date.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid (s6-7) x diva/bombshell!female reader, spencer's pov, alcohol consumption, suggestive content comes back in flashbacks, scratch marks.

𝐚/𝐧: okay, question for you — what kind of bet could spencer possibly lose to morgan?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.5k

Spencer could offer anyone one piece of advice.

If, at any point during your— let’s face it, pathetically short — lifespan (the average human life expectancy is approximately 73 years, though this varies depending on environmental factors, lifestyle choices, genetics, and a laundry list of other variables you probably skimmed past in some middle school biology textbook) you ever get the idea to make a bet with a man like Derek Morgan, stop yourself immediately.

Seriously.

Tuck your pride deep into your pocket, crumple up your honor like a piece of paper, and toss it straight into the trash. Not every moment of your life has to be spent proving to the world that you’re always right. Especially when there’s even the slightest chance you might not be. Save yourself the humiliation.

You could spend this Friday night at home, nose buried in a book, instead of perched on a stool in some dimly lit, cramped bar, the kind where you keep glancing over your shoulder, half expecting someone to jump out and stab you in the ribs. Okay, maybe that’s dramatic. Spencer just really didn’t want to be there.

On this date. This blind date.

This blind date with some friend of Morgan’s whom he had never seen before, didn’t know what she looked like, what her name was, or what she did for a living…he knew nothing about her. And that, among other things, made him feel like the meeting could only go terribly.

The second reason was his migraine, which decided to strike that day, bringing that awful pressure back to his temples and turning him into a snappy, irritable jerk. The third reason was that his date was already twenty minutes late. How could he expect to spend meaningful time with someone who didn’t even respect him enough to show up on time?

At least he was in a relatively quiet bar instead of some nightclub bursting with lights. He probably wouldn’t have survived that. At least here, he could lean his elbow against the bar and press the cold glass of his drink to his temple, hoping it might soothe the awful sensation pounding in his head. He had specifically asked for the drink to be served with as much ice as possible.

He glanced at his watch. Twenty-three minutes and forty-seven seconds...

Someone slid onto a barstool. Not right next to him—there was one empty seat between them. Spencer cast a fleeting glance at the woman and almost snorted. That definitely wasn’t her.

Sure, he didn’t know what she looked like, and she didn’t know what he looked like. But Morgan wouldn’t have set him up with…someone like that. He wouldn’t be that cruel.

This woman looked as if someone had just fallen to their knees in front of her, begged her to step out of the pages of a high-fashion magazine, and graced the room with her presence. Or like the kind of person you stumble across while flipping through profiles of major mob bosses on Garcia’s computer and click on the tab labeled wife. Calling her pretty in this context would have been the greatest insult, a blatant lie, and a complete disregard for her actual presence.

No one in their right mind would have set someone like him up with a woman like this. An average-looking brainiac, often losing his train of thought and completely getting lost in his own words. Awkward. Currently also irritated and exhausted, but that’s beside the point.

Besides, the woman didn’t look like she was waiting for her date to show up. She sat facing the bar, not looking around, not scanning for anyone with her eyes. In fact, her gaze was fixed on one spot. On her phone, which she kept tapping on with her long nails. It couldn’t be her.

However, there was no other woman in sight. So, his date was already thirty minutes and twelve seconds late…wait, hold on. Had he really been staring at her for six seconds and twenty-five minutes? That was almost creepy. He was really being strange that day.

He shook his head in pity at himself and…still waited.

And waited.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her adjust herself in her seat. Her posture straight as an arrow, her thighs widening from the pressure on the seat. Long fingers with long nails, incessantly clicking away on her phone. Her jaw slightly clenched. What could be so important that she was completely ignoring the world around her? Some exciting gossip from her best friend? Or maybe when you look like that, you simply stop paying attention to your surroundings because it doesn’t deserve it? Or perhaps he was just projecting the irritation he had built up onto a woman who hadn’t done anything to him, creating degrading assumptions about her based solely on her appearance?

He placed the untouched glass with his drink on the counter. The ice clinked. Since he’d already wasted so much time preparing and leaving his apartment, it would be foolish to waste it even further without saying a word to his, well, potential date? Besides, he already felt humiliated. Why not embarrass himself even more?

"Hey," he said, fixing his gaze on her again. Damn, his voice sounded weak. She didn’t even flinch, probably hadn’t heard him. He cleared his throat and restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Of course, she hadn’t heard, she was too absorbed in her phone. "Hey, are you…are you maybe Morgan’s friend?"

Without rushing, she finished typing a message on her phone, then rested her chin on her hand, stretching her long fingers over it. Spencer tried to decipher what that unfazed look in her eyes meant. Boredom? Disdain?

"Spencer Reid," she said after a moment, nodding almost imperceptibly to herself. Her gaze drifted over his figure, leaving behind the faint trace of something—some kind of shiver—that he worked hard to ignore. He preferred to focus on something else. She knew his name, but he didn’t know hers? “I was starting to think you wouldn’t speak up.”

He frowned, and an unidentifiable sound escaped his throat. Somewhere between a startled sigh and a derisive scoff.

“You knew it was me?” he asked, immediately regretting the stupid question. She had just made it blatantly obvious! For reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, he felt as though there was a strict limit to the number of sentences he was allowed to exchange with her. And he’d just wasted one of them. “So why didn’t you say something first?”

She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was tapping something else into her phone. He rolled his eyes, not even bothering to hide it. After all, she wasn’t paying attention to him anyway.

“I saw that,” she said, still not looking at him. “It’s rude to make faces behind someone’s back.”

Spencer had this particular trait: he was quick to form opinions about people. His job, after all, involved noticing patterns in others’ personalities and using that to predict their next moves. This time, though, he abandoned the idea of a deep psychoanalysis and focused on one simple thing.

Her insolence just plain pissed him off.

To the extent that, instead of getting up from his seat and leaving the bar with a sarcastic thanks for the date, he slid off his stool and onto the one that had been separating them. His drink stayed in its original spot. Not that it was doing anything for his headache, anyway.

“It’s also rude to be late for an agreed-upon meeting time and ignore the other person in favor of your phone,” he shot back, this time without a hint of hesitation.

Either he imagined it, or a brief tremor took control of the corners of her lips.

She turned off her phone and placed her hand over it, as if to show that while she wasn’t using it at the moment, she could always pick it back up whenever she felt like it. Once this fleeting interest in him had run its course. It was like throwing down a challenge to the court jester. Entertain me.

“You’re right,” she admitted, without a trace of remorse. “It is rude.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other in complete silence. He tried not to swallow at all, even though saliva was pooling in his mouth. She seemed like an incredible observer, the type who would notice the slow, too-slow movement of his throat if he dared to let it happen. He had no idea what to say. No clue why he’d even joined her, why he was prolonging this conversation. He felt that if he spoke first, he’d seal his defeat in this interaction.

Not that he wasn’t already standing on that losing ground. And though he couldn’t believe he was actually saying it, sitting under her gaze was somehow worse than the potential humiliation. He cleared his throat.

“Morgan set us up,” he said.

“A blind date.”

“You lose a bet, too?”

She laughed. With that slight raise of her brow, it seemed like a genuine reaction. To his surprise, Spencer regretted his words. Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted to the woman he was on a date with that this was just the result of a wager. No matter how brazen or mean she might have been.

“Don’t worry,” she said, catching the look on his face. “It’s new. A completely exciting novelty, really. To be on a date with a guy and know he’s only there because he has to be. Not because he just wants to fuck you.”

Spencer shifted slightly in his seat. Once again, she was putting him in a position where he had no idea how to respond. For a moment, she watched him, her gaze piercing, her lips slightly parted to reveal hints of her teeth. But when he hesitated too long to say anything, she turned back to her phone. He’d lost her attention. Not that he particularly cared to keep it. Well, maybe he cared a little, but not in the most obvious sense. He saw it more as a game, a test of who she was.

She might not have been the most pleasant type of woman, but there was something undeniably fascinating about her. With that appearance, with that magnetic aura, she had to be used to crowds of men trailing after her, trying to impress her. He wondered how long it would take before she completely stopped paying him any attention. How susceptible to boredom she really was.

In the meantime, he let out a quiet sigh, turning to retrieve the drink he’d left at his previous spot. When he returned to his seat, however, he nearly spilled it on himself. She had shifted. Where before she had been angled toward the bar, only glancing at him sideways over her shoulder, now she was directly facing him, her knees nearly brushing his. She was entirely exposed to his gaze.

Earlier, Spencer had mostly registered the aura she projected—commanding, cool, utterly detached. Her beauty was breathtaking, but it had felt... out of reach. Untouchable. Now, up close, with more time to truly look at her, she became tangible. A shape—every curve and detail of her figure. Her lips, which, despite the sharp-edged words they formed, looked incredibly soft in texture.

He felt a bit pathetic for the fact that the first two things he noticed were her figure and her lips. But, in his defense, he’d already dissected everything else about her earlier.

“Sorry,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. She gestured vaguely toward her phone, the motion dismissive. “People won’t stop bothering me. My subjects.”

She uttered the word with a hint of sarcasm, her face lighting up as if she were joking, but considering her earlier behavior, Spencer found it genuinely difficult to tell whether she was serious about calling them that.

His mind should have been focused on sorting through the information, filing it neatly into the overstuffed yet impeccably organized shelves of his thoughts. He should have added the detail about her being someone’s boss to the appropriate folder, then used it as a springboard for conversation. After all, he didn’t know a single meaningful thing about her yet.

But instead, he was far too preoccupied with staring at her exposed knee like some pathetic fool.

Another second of silence, and she’d stop looking at him again—he’d already learned that pattern. He didn’t hold back and let out a short laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, shaking his head. But then he added, “Do you call your employees subjects? Like you’re, I don’t know, Catherine the Great on the Russian throne?”

“I knew you’d latch onto that. Just didn’t think you’d compare me to her.”

“Were you hoping for Cleopatra?”

The sound of her laughter caught the attention of the men at the table in the corner of the bar. Spencer wouldn't have been surprised if one of them approached her right then, completely ignoring his presence. Her head tilted slightly back, exposing her neck. He hurriedly took a sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol would dull his perception and stop him from paying such religious attention to such details. At that moment, he wasn't sitting there because of the lost bet. He was there because the chair physically had a grip on him.

“You’re cute,” she said.

Another surprising choice of words. A buzz filled his head, possibly a mix of his migraine and alcohol, or maybe something else entirely.

"Weren’t you supposed to say funny?" he muttered.

"I know what I wanted to say. I’ve never been on a date where someone compared me to two such powerful women."

He felt strangely pleased, and tried to push that feeling away as far as he could. She’d said one nice thing, and he was forgetting about the rest.

"But once, I was called the leader of a group of real angels," she added almost immediately, glancing at him with a small smirk. "So you could always try harder."

So many potential sarcastic replies flashed through his mind that he ended up saying nothing at all. Their knees were touching now. When did that happen? There had been a few inches of space between them earlier. Had he moved closer to her, or had she moved closer to him?

He considered pulling back, but that would have been an admission—both to her and to himself—that her touch was making it harder for him to think clearly. And after all, one of the defining traits of Spencer Reid was that nothing could cloud his intellect.

"Well, considering how biblically accurate angels look, I’m not sure if that was a compliment," his lips answered for him, without much consultation with his brain. They consulted instead with the center of humiliation, and received its approval.

Her eyebrows rose again as she slightly leaned toward him.

"Are you saying it was an insult?"

Being this close, she didn’t even need to raise her voice. Her words barely brushed the air, yet they were still audible. She was preventing him from interrupting her. How could he do that when he was barely able to come up with anything reasonable?

Without taking his eyes off her, he reached for his drink. The glass appeared between them, becoming an object that separated them, allowing him to—what a paradox—clear his thoughts for just a moment. He took a slow, tiny sip.

"Maybe the guy had good intentions," he replied with a feigned, dismissive shrug. "It’s just that his execution kinda gave him away. What I’m saying is, you should appreciate my compliment more." A bit of the drink remained on his lower lip, which reflected in her eye when she turned her gaze toward it. Spencer felt like he was on some kind of roller coaster, speeding in an unknown, slightly dangerous direction, not knowing how to stop it. Did he even want to stop it? He definitely needed to slow it down somehow. Before it crashed. He inhaled deeply, thinking of something that could, if only for a moment, give him control over the conversation. "Although maybe it shouldn’t even count, since this isn’t a real date."

"A compliment is a compliment. By the way, in your case, it was the other way around. The execution turned out well. The intentions, not so much. You didn’t want to make me feel good, right?" She tilted her head slightly to the side, curling the end of her sentence.

"I’ll leave that up to your interpretation," he replied after a moment. He was staring at her so intently that he almost unconsciously copied her movement. Control over the conversation, yeah, right! It was a struggle to swallow. "Does...does this not bother you at all? That this isn’t a real date?"

Constantly reminding her of that fact felt like clutching a damn sharp razor while drowning.

Her short huff synchronized with a roll of her eyes, a flash of white.

"I’m devastated by that fact," she groaned theatrically, tapping him seriously on the knee for dramatic effect. A shiver ran from his leg all the way through his body, the glass trembled in his hands. "I’m falling apart, I swear. Will you let me rest my head on your shoulder so I can cry?"

She looked at him from under lowered lashes, pretending to beg. Spencer was finding it increasingly hard to resist the buzz in his head and the thoughts that often wandered in strange directions. The tips of her long nails were still brushing against his leg through the fabric of his pants.

"Sarcasm," he muttered, struggling to tear his gaze away from them. Struggling to breathe. "How original.”

"I know this isn’t a real date, you don’t have to keep reminding me, Mr. Grumpy," she said, ignoring his mumbling remark that didn’t really mean anything. "By the way, even if it wasn’t obvious that this was a lost bet, I would’ve figured it out right away. All it took was one look at you when I walked in."

For a moment, Spencer managed to ground his feet in the reality beneath him. He furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean?"

She made some gesture with her hand.

"You were sitting here like you were being punished. Head down. Irritated look. Posture suggesting people shouldn’t approach you." She tried to demonstrate, slumping her previously perfectly straight back. It looked incredibly unnatural on her. "I’m so glad Morgan invited me here instead of some sweet, affectionate girl. She would’ve run away crying."

"That...is not true," he blurted out, shaking his head. "Okay, I admit, I didn’t want to be here, but I definitely didn’t suggest people should stay away from me."

"Maybe not you," she shrugged. "But your body language did."

He snorted.

"Look who’s the expert in reading body language."

“So now you want to be here?"

"What?"

"You said you didn’t want to be here. So, do you want to be here now?"

With some refined calmness, she followed his face. Their knees were almost touching, one of her legs was practically between his. Their bodies were facing each other, heads leaning toward one another. A glass in his hand. He tightened his grip on it, slightly pulling his shoulder blades together. He tried to escape the sphere of her scent, her gaze, her overpowering presence, which he was still relentlessly sinking deeper into. He couldn’t stay in that separation for long and soon returned to his previous position, placing them closer than ever before. Something in her eyes flashed with challenge.

"Apparently, you know a lot about body language," he said slowly, watching the flash in her eyes with the same breath. Surprisingly, he sounded quite confident. "Won’t you figure it out yourself?"

She hadn’t blinked for so long, yet her eyelids didn’t even flutter. After his question, there was a moment of silence, during which the corners of her lips curled up progressively. During this relatively short meeting, he’d barely seen a smile on her face, and none of them were like this one. In its way, it was ruthless, victorious, in its way cruel, in its way addictive. It made him want to take some kind of action, to tear it off her face in a radical way.

He felt the drink slipping from his hands. For a moment, he was afraid he’d lost control over his limbs, and it would fall to the floor. But soon it dawned on him that her fingers were slowly beginning to wrap around the glass. Slowly, but surely, she took it from him.

"I could," she admitted, taking a sip. Spencer stared at the movement of her lips as they slowly embraced the glass, leaving their mark on it. "But why should I bother when you can tell me yourself?" she asked. She tilted her head slightly, and the next statement that came from her mouth was almost amused. "I don’t chase."

In the silence that fell, he felt as though she was listening, in some wicked way, to the sound of his heart beating. Like in some movie, where the world around fades into insignificance, other sounds melting into the atmosphere.

It seemed to Spencer that his voice had caught in his throat in some defensive gesture, trying to stop him from responding before properly considering his words. At the same time, so many sentences rushed to his lips—not just those that made sense. His mind was veiled by a black curtain of unbreathable fabric. In that moment, he could’ve just as easily recited the formula for the sum of an arithmetic sequence.

He swallowed hard.

"I don’t chase either," he finally replied, not breaking their gaze.

For a moment, she continued to stare at him. Her expression unreadable, the smile long forgotten. She shifted the glass in her hand, then tilted it to her lips, drinking the rest of its contents in one go. She set it down on the counter again, with force.

"Fuck you, then," she said indifferently.

For a moment, Spencer had no idea how to react; he couldn’t process it. His jaw slightly dropped, but he had no words to follow. And before he could add anything, she simply stood up from her seat, effortlessly untangling herself from their complex positioning, then walked away.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, unmoving, until he was finally forced to take a breath. It was only with that rush of air into his lungs that he was able to somehow, in a distorted way, begin to rationalize everything.

First, he felt strangely disappointed.

Then, he found himself swept up in a wave of ordinary irritation towards her. The same kind of irritation he'd felt at the beginning of their conversation, which had subtly slipped out through the back door as the talk continued. And now, it had returned with double the force. He remembered her face, and when he imagined looking into those eyes, all he saw was the grotesque expansion of her inflated ego.

In its own way, it was justified. She was damn attractive, unattainable. Some level of excessive self-admiration was almost natural for her. At least, not surprising. That didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Spencer rubbed his eyelids as if waking from some dream. And then he saw it. Her phone on the bar. Left behind by her.

And although he grabbed the phone and even turned his body toward the door, he hesitated for a long time, unsure if he should follow her. She’d practically ignored him during the first few minutes of their conversation, absorbed by that very phone. On the other hand, it was supposedly some business matter. On yet another hand, he didn’t care in the slightest. When he left the bar, it wasn’t out of some deeply ingrained sense of altruism. He did it because his legs demanded it. His subconscious. The blood pulsing in his temples and the rapid breaths nervously coursing between his nose and mouth.

He stopped outside the bar, surrounded by the nighttime quiet. A yellow cab zipped past him, so close he could feel the air ripple in its wake, as he wondered which direction she might have gone. How was it even possible that she’d vanished so quickly? For a moment, he stood there, feeling a growing sense of pity for himself. He slowed his breathing, as though that might help him catch the faint sound of her heels striking the pavement somewhere in the distance. He wanted to hear it.

His grip tightened on the phone as he turned back toward the bar. He’d leave it there, hand it over to the bartender, and then go home. She’d figure it out eventually, realize where she’d last used it, and return.

But just as he took a single step, he noticed a silhouette leaning casually against the building.

Watching him. And smiling with triumph.

"Once again, why exactly are we, profilers, being called in for a contaminated water case?" Spencer asked, clearly frustrated with himself.

He couldn't focus. And he was hungover. Well, no, he wasn’t. He’d had less than one drink two days ago on Friday night, and now it was the start of the week, and he was at work. He’d gotten a decent amount of sleep last night, had an excellent coffee, and even eaten breakfast. So why did he still feel like there was some dull, persistent throbbing buried deep in the recesses of his skull?

The entire team stared at him for a beat too long in silence.

"This is the third such incident in the past two months," Hotch finally spoke, his tone patient. "The first time, a chemical contaminant got into the water supply of a small town, causing mild poisoning symptoms in a handful of people. The second incident was nearly identical, except more people were affected. The third time, it happened in a different, more populated area, using a much more lethal toxin. And now, we have fatalities."

For a moment, Spencer stayed silent, processing the information. In front of him lay a case file, its contents neatly compiled. He focused his gaze on the first page, his expression thoughtful. But as he read the words, they seemed to blur together, offering little clarity and yielding no significant conclusions. A bitter urge to scoff at his own incompetence bubbled up within him. He was distracted.

“You forgot to mention this is a top, top, top-secret case,” Rossi chimed in, breaking the silence.

Spencer furrowed his brow. Was there a hint of irony in Rossi’s tone, or was he imagining it?

“Sorry, man, but what planet have you been on for the past thirty minutes while we were going over this?” Morgan asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head, his tone light but teasing.

He tried to avoid his gaze. He had this strange feeling that Morgan could see right through him. After all, he was the only one who knew about his date. Well, in theory. The details and the outcome were still unknown to him, and they were meant to remain that way.

“There’s suspicion that all these contaminations are the work of one person or organization,” JJ spoke up, glancing at him from the corner of her eye with some pity. Not mockery, it’s worth specifying. “They’re testing the effects of various poisons, their toxicity, as well as gathering data on the response times of emergency services, procedures, and residents' reactions. And that, in turn, could mean…”

“Mass panic,” Prentiss finished.

JJ nodded at her, agreeing.

Thanks to this explanation, everything began to slowly form in his mind. Another case shrouded in secrecy, meant to be kept hidden from literally everyone, starting with the public, and even ending with other agencies.

“We’ll meet at the jet in fifteen minutes,” Hotch informed them, standing up from his chair. “We have a field interview to conduct. A chemist will join us to collect samples of the poison.”

Spencer dragged himself up from his seat, but before he could follow the others out of the room, Morgan stopped him with a gesture.

"You're staying, man. We need to talk." He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression full of curiosity.

Spencer sighed.

"Hotch said—"

"Fifteen minutes, if I heard right."

"Well, fifteen minutes is more than enough time for someone to drink contaminated water and end up six feet under."

"The water system's been shut off, so slow down with the doom and gloom. Besides, this conversation wouldn’t be happening if you’d called me back over the weekend," Morgan said, his tone firm but without any real anger—just pure, friendly curiosity. A grin spread across his face. "So, how was it? Did you have a good time? Did you like my friend?"

He knew that question was coming, yet he hadn’t prepared for it. He had no idea how to answer, no clue how to summarize an encounter that had somehow lodged itself so deeply in the recesses of his mind. It kept surfacing, unbidden, pushing certain images into his vision—and sensations into his awareness.

Spencer hit the doorframe with his shoulder.

Or maybe it was her? Either way, there was a sound of impact, one of them must have collided with something on the way. The way they both traveled, immersed in each other's faces, bodies heading out on a trip despite the layers of clothes separating them.

It was probably him after all. It was from his mouth that this short, sharp sound escaped. It didn't take them long to cover the distance between the bar and his apartment. They needed little conversation to shift from the topic left in the phone to the joining of impatient, curious lips. Curious whether they could once again tap into the tension created just moments earlier, when they sat across from each other on the bar stools.

And when the initial curiosity was satisfied, they couldn't stop. It was replaced by a need, driven out by the surging desire, as if they both had drunk a poison that clouded and darkened their minds.

How else could one explain that, despite barely knowing each other, going to bed together had suddenly become an unquestionable priority, one that didn’t concern such mundane things as doorframe or furniture?

Even now, his hand twitched as if instinctively reaching for his chest. Beneath his buttoned-up shirt and vest, his skin bore faint, fading marks that, while diminishing with each passing day, were still visible. Sometimes, they even felt tangible. When he thought about them long enough, he could almost feel the stinging sensation of sharp nails dragging across his body.

He shrugged slowly. Something he’d learned in the past few days—sometimes the best way to deflect was to redirect the question right back.

“Morgan, why did you set me up with her specifically?” he asked, his tone serious, genuine curiosity lacing his words. His friend furrowed his brows slightly in response.

“I mean, what was the goal here? I bet you have plenty of friends, but you chose her specifically,”

When he referred to her with that pronoun, it carried a weight of unspoken adjectives. Her. So attractive, so alluring. Confident to an intimidating degree, capable of making him feel like the most extraordinary man in the world and a complete nobody—all with a single glance.

Morgan didn’t get a chance to respond before Spencer continued, diving headfirst into what had consumed far too much of his thoughts lately.

“Did you hope I’d, I don’t know…embarrass myself in front of her?”

“Did you?” Morgan countered, his brow twitching upward. He quickly sobered, though, when he noticed Spencer’s serious expression.

“Listen, man. I don’t know why you’d think that. We’ve known each other a long time. She set me up with her friend once, so I figured she’d be open to it. Besides, I had a feeling you two would get along. She’s incredibly smart. I just wanted you to have a good time—you’ve been so…withdrawn lately.”

He felt a little guilty for snapping at him like that. After all, Derek could have used his lost bet for far more devious purposes instead of trying to give him a good evening. Spencer sighed, apologetically.

“Okay, sorry, I was just curious.”

He shifted uncomfortably, hoping this would be the end of the conversation.

“No harm done, man. But now spill—did you have a good time? Was it worth crawling out of your den? What did you two do? Stay in the bar the whole time, or did you end up taking her somewhere—or maybe she took you…”

“We…” Spencer hesitated, swallowing hard. He didn’t know why it was so difficult to admit it—especially to Derek, of all people. Maybe because casual, one-night encounters with people he barely knew had never been his thing. And this one…this one felt different. She lingered in his mind so vividly, and he was terrified that saying anything out loud might make her slip away, like a fragile dream dissipating at dawn.

“You are—”

His fists clenched from the feeling that lingered within him, a feeling so intense that he doubted he could physically find any outlet for it.

“I am, what?” she asked, her words a mere murmur between rapid, heavy, and loud breaths. But despite their softness and their blending with other sounds, she managed to imbue them with a tone of unmistakable assertiveness.

Spencer couldn't respond, his forehead resting momentarily on her collarbones. He felt a shiver rising up his shoulders and then his entire back as the tips of her nails barely perceptibly sank into his hair. They gently glided through the strands until they tightened around them when a short, hiss-like moan broke out her lips.

"What, you won't even say it out loud?" she asked, sliding her fingers down his neck. The trail she marked caused his back to straighten, tension building from the delicate, burning sensation of her touch. "You were more willing to compliment me earlier. Or maybe you wanted to say I'm rude again—"

"You’re incredible," he interrupted her with a sudden exhale, lifting his head finally to meet her gaze. Her lower lip stayed slightly parted the whole time, and he couldn’t ignore the invitation, nor refrain from placing a chaotic, messy kiss on them. "And rude, but I feel you so well..."

She laughed into his mouth, which turned into a sudden, pleased sob when he accidentally bit part of her lower lip.

"Sorry," he muttered instinctively, before it dawned on him what a wonderful sound had escaped her when he did it. Before it dawned on him that he wanted to hear it again.

She gently shook her head, as if in disbelief.

“You’re cute,”

"Yeah, we stayed at the bar," he finished his thought, briefly rubbing his forehead. Lying was so incredibly stupid in this situation. She was Morgan's friend, for crying out loud. He’d undoubtedly ask her the same question, and she’d give an entirely different answer—because unlike him, she wasn’t an idiot afraid to admit they’d slept together. Where had his so-called brilliance gone? “And it was fine. It was a good night. And you’re right…she’s smart, interesting. We had a good conversation.”

If only he sounded believable. Derek’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, he stayed silent, watching Spencer intently.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he said briefly. For a moment, they stood there, Spencer certain that Derek would say something else, waiting for it. But he just merely nodded toward the door.

“Okay, time for us, I guess. Before anyone decides to brew themselves a cup of tea, unaware of the special ingredient.”

Spencer watched him head toward the door.

“You said the water supply’s been shut down?”

“In small towns, you never really know.”

“I don’t want to say anything, but we should probably get going,” he started, glancing at his watch. The fifteen minutes that Hotch had mentioned were still firmly planted in his mind.

Even though Hotch stood right next to him, waiting as well. It was hard to tell if he was starting to feel impatience with his stoic expression.

Prentiss sighed, her hands resting on her hips. The rest of the team was already on the jet, with only the three of them left waiting for the arrival of the last passenger. The most crucial one for this case.

Spencer understood, though barely, that people could be late for personal reasons. But at work? That should always be a priority, to get there on time and do the job. His mind wandered back to when he’d been leaning over the bar, counting the minutes and seconds, with a cold drink in front of him…

“Is that her?”

He looked at Emily, unsure why there was such surprise in her voice. Then he glanced toward the person they’d been waiting for and asked himself why the universe seemed to enjoy playing tricks on him so much.

Of course, it was her.

Hotch, as the head of their team, extended his hand towards her. Her gaze never fell on Spencer, but not because she was avoiding him, rather because… she seemed lost in thought? Dressed in formal attire, just as striking as that evening, with a slightly furrowed brow and a less playful expression on her face.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he introduced himself briefly, shaking her hand. Then, he gently shifted his gaze towards the two other members of his team. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss and…”

“Can someone explain to me why I couldn’t bring my team with me?” she asked in a firm tone, as always standing perfectly upright.

She looked at each of them in turn, this time not skipping over Spencer. But her face didn’t even twitch when their gazes met. Something that couldn’t be said about him.

Just to be clear, it wasn’t that he was staring at her like some lovesick puppy. After all, they shared only one night, not a twenty-something-year marriage. It was simply that reconciling such a twisted turn of events took him a moment. Her pretentious tone didn’t even irritate him that much. He was too busy staring at her face, comparing the sophisticated silhouette in the daylight to the one that stretched beneath him when the space around them was still consumed by the night.

He cleared his throat, trying to return to the present moment. And once he did, his lips almost spoke on their own.

“This is a matter that requires particular discretion,” he began to explain. He tried to adopt as neutral a tone as possible, but inside, a sense of amusement began to fill him. The whole situation was almost theatrical, as were their actions and glances. He analyzed her face, still unmoved, listening to his words with complete focus. Wow, she was definitely more professional than he was.

“We're dealing with contamination in the water supply. The information about this could cause widespread panic among the public, something we certainly want to avoid. That’s why you’ve been assigned to this task, and only you. Without your subjects.”

He saw it, that barely noticeable movement at the corners of her lips. When he caught it, a sense of euphoria surged through him. But it was quickly replaced by nerves, as it suddenly hit him that they'd be spending the entire day together. How should he talk to her? Should he treat it all like a regular day, as grown adults should, or pretend it never happened?

As the amusement faded from his face, hers seemed to double. Emily watched their expressions like a tennis match, glancing from one to the other. Hotch, as always, remained stoic, but it was likely that questions were swirling in his mind as well.

“Thank you very much for the clarification, Dr. Reid,” she responded with an overly polite tone, nodding at him as though granting him an honor. And, well, he couldn’t help but feel that deep down inside, that’s exactly how he felt when faced with her smile. “It’s good that you’re here to dispel any potential doubts this case may undoubtedly raise for me. I’m sure I’ll consult with you further. Now, I suppose we should get going.”

She said it as if she were the only boss in the entire operation, giving one last glance over all three of them before walking confidently toward the jet.

They were, more or less, confused.

Hotch was the first to shake himself out of it and followed her footsteps.

Prentiss slightly parted her lips, casting a look of full suspicion at him.

“Wait a second,” she began, pointing at him with a finger. “How did she know who you are, when Hotch didn’t have a chance to introduce you?”

He hesitated before answering, still watching the figure disappearing aboard the jet.

“I guess my scientific accomplishments have finally made me famous,” he replied flatly.

Spencer couldn't deny it. An incredibly interesting day was coming.

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ifyoucandaniel · 27 days ago

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favorite fics of 2024/basically just batfam fic rec list

It's that time of year guys, here is my favorite fics of 2024 in no specific order (aka my master batman fic rec list bc that's all i read this year with some spider-man thrown in there lmao). most of these have been in my previous rec lists, but this is just like one big frankenstein’s monster of a fic rec with all of them in one place <3

starting off strong, anything @bluelotuswrites's hands have touched is pure gold. Red is the Color of Sinners placed post UTRH where after being hit by bruce's batarang and now mute, jason decides to leave gotham and go to hell’s kitchen for a fresh start, but he keeps running into daredevil both in and out of costume. this is possibly the best jason of all time i rotate him in my mind like a microwave all day

The Hellblazer's Apprentice is an all blades jason fic where instead of continuing his lost days world tour, he meets john constentine and decides to learn magic to piss of bruce. blue added some lore to jason’s character in this that to this day makes my brain vibrate with excitement and the dynamic between john and jason is just ?? so good. both of these fics haunt me, they follow me wherever i go, i love them. read everything she's written, trust me

going with the theme of my favorite authors i read this year, @cdelphiki wrote my favorite read of the year and possibly all time Life Happens a fic that hit me like a sucker punch where tim and damian are both sent to a different dimension where everyone they know are comic book characters. with no other choice, they have to start a new life in this world while they wait for rescue. words just dont do it justice, please please read this fic. it’s the most beautiful story on growing and life

their other fic Jason and the Three Terrors crosses my mind at least once a day if not three times. jason is still with the league when talia charges him with getting damian, his cousin mara, and his secret sister athanasia to bruce safely from ra's. the rest of the fic is jason going from "i cant wait to get rid of these kids" to "these are my kids, i need to provide for them and keep them safe and i would die for them" 100/10 jason's character development is some of my favorite in any fic.

The Time Before is another of my favorites where jason is sent back in time to when he was 9 and goes to bruce for help and realizes maybe his memories of bruce maybe aren't all accurate. just read everything cdelphiki has ever written, trust me <3

Split by @wolfsbanesparks i have never been hooked on a character i previously did not know much about faster than when i read this fic. Billy and shazam are forcefully separated into separate bodies by black adam and then they have to try to keep billy's identity secret somehow while working with the justice league to fix them. the end of this fic had me sending paragraphs and 5 minute voice notes to my friends, trying to explain why i was so absolutely distraught and obsessed.

also by wolfsbanesparks, From the Shadows is basically everything you could ever want from a billy batson joins the batfam fic. it's got plot, it's got identity shenanigans, it's got badass magical billy, what more could you possibly need! seriously idk what is up with everything wolfbanesparks writes, but the endings are always so fucking good, 100/10.

Something in the Static by @bonerot19 is one of my favorite jason series ever, i go back to it constantly and think about it all the time. this is a series where jason's mom doesn't die and his dad isn't in prison, instead he's 17 working nights at a convenience store when everything changes and suddenly batman won't leave him alone. this is my favorite jason & steph best friends fic ever and the way this fic is paced scratches an itch in my brain, the flow of the story is just perfect

Buy Back the Secrets by @vinelark is the only ship fic on here and it deserves a place of honor. every time i get an email that it's updated an angel gets it's wings and my friends all get texts in all caps. Timkon fic where kon still doesn’t know tim’s civilian identity, but tim keeps calling for superboy when he's in trouble which leads to kon meeting him as a civilian. the identity shenanigans are just so top tier, its a 5 + 1 fic so every chapter is just just a new world of fun tropes. the chapter with tim's fake uncle and jason is actually probably my favorite chapter of a fic ever its so dear to me. as far as i'm concerned, this fic is the only timkon ever <3

Honoring Promises by LananiA3O is the shortest fic on this list and is the most important jason & dick post UTRH fics i've ever read. this fic both scratched an itch and created an itch because i need 100 more chapters and for it to never end. set post UTRH when dick starts to rethink his opinion on a note jason left him and realizes it was jason reaching out and decides to find him and fix things. this goes up there with RITCOS in the post UTRH fics where jason decides to just fuck off and do his own thing, i love them

Adopting a New Plan by A_Silly_Gander is yet another fic where jason winds up with an adoption problem when he first comes back to gotham. however, my favorite part of this whole fic is how the author writes jason making mistakes and being flawed and how those mistakes affect him. absolutely 10/10 character development and jason rejoining the batfam + damian and jaosn meeting in the LOA tag is just a mixture of all my favorite things, i love this fic so much

A Collision of Masks by MOVAZ is my favorite dick grayson fic ever, its set in a young justice AU where batman never joined the JL and YJ never met dick, so when the YJ team is sent to investigate a new vigilante, nightwing, identity shenanigans ensue. this is seriously such a fun fic, i loved all the crossover between dick's many identities and the YJ team

Cards on the Table by @wesslan is just!!! so fun oh my god. the chapter titles are to this day my favorite things ever they enhance the experience. it’s about tim being a scam fortune teller who knows a lot more than he should about the upper class due to his nighttime stalking. he winds up meeting the batfam and giving some scarily accurate advice which leads to him being tied up in their business and lots of lying <3 it’s such a fun fic and i just love the vibes 100/10

Hand in Unloveable Hand (a chokehold) by @a-large-orange-cat is by far my favorite fucked up tim fic! while tim’s out taking pictures of batman and robin as a kid he gets kidnapped by black mask and raised to take over his crime empire. cue 50k of manipulation and angst, the ending is so satisfying and the sequel with jason always makes me :’) very good, this tim lives in my mind in a little house he and jason built

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone because would it be a fic rec without the loml? i love this fic so much oh my god, it sent me back on my spiderman obsessed bullshit which in turn led me back down my marvel bs. post infinity war peter is dusted and wakes up in the DC universe with the ghosts of the dusted avengers following him. i love this fic so much, nothing compares to this peter in my mind. the dynamic between him and the batfam + the identity angst is just so well done

keeping up with the peter theme, The Teenage Vigilante's Guide to Saving New York (And Making Friends Along the Way) by candlesneedflame is such a good team red/mentor matt fic oh my god. where peter goes against tony’s wishes and starts hanging out with daredevil and his friends and maybe starts getting mentored by new york’s vigilantes. 10/10 i love peter interacting with the other vigilantes and also matt mentoring him

anyways, that’s all folks! 2024 was the year for the DC and marvel fics clearly and hopefully 2025 will be the year of me binding all of these finally and having them sitting pretty on my shelf <3

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fanonical · 9 months ago

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buckysgrace · 3 months ago

Text

Chemistry

Steve x Stepsister!reader

Kinktober 2024

You're home when Steve comes back after stumbling into something odd.

CW: Pseudocest, dubcon, sex pollen, unprotected sex

The movie had started to bore you some time ago, slowly turning into background noise as you flipped through your book. But even that couldn’t hold your interest.

The house was too big for one person, especially on this specific night. You were creeped out, or maybe that had been because of the scary movie you’d watched earlier. You had thought about snooping through the house again, but the last time you had found things of Steve’s that you hadn’t wanted to see.

Living with him was awkward, worse than you thought it would be. You’d known him your whole life, just as a stranger. And he still continued to treat you like one. Like you were somehow to blame for his father cheating and marrying your mother. People might’ve said he had changed but you knew the truth, he was still a dick. You had no control of it, but he still pointed the blame at you. And he had the audacity to say that you were the spoiled one.

You had hoped things would be different, as you were both in the same boat. No siblings, no cousins or anything. It had always just been you and your mom and you had hoped that Steve would relate, that maybe you could bond over it. Having a big brother seemed fun, but he wasn’t interested. He didn’t even want you as a friend.

You almost ignored him when he pushed the door open, easily telling by his body language that he didn’t want to be messed with anyways. But the sight of him made your book fall from your fingers, banging onto the floor as you quickly stood.

“What happened to you?” You gasped in horror, eyes widening as you walked around the couch, “Steve, you look terrible.” You told him seriously, just briefly taking in the Band-aids that decorated his face.

“Nothing.” He scoffed as he shook his head, his hair flopping around as he gripped the railing and began to head up the stairs. You walked behind him, deciding that you shouldn’t ignore him. Not when he looked like this.

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” You protested as you followed him, watching as he took two steps at a time, “Who did that?” You asked seriously, wondering if you should call the cops. Maybe he got mugged, but you had no idea by who. You had thought he was going to be with Nancy.

“No one.” He spoke in irritation, flicking on the switch to his bedroom as he tried to shut the door behind him. But you were faster. You pushed it open with little to no protest from him as he stumbled back, looking exasperated.

“Jesus,” You gasped as the light gave you a good look of his bruises and cuts, “Oh my God. Let me help.” You replied seriously, staring at the dried blood that lingered above his lips and below his nose. He had a nasty cut on his right forehead, along with his left cheek. His lips were swollen and cut up too.

“I don’t need your help.” He replied as he turned his gaze away from you, brown eyes twinkling underneath his bedroom lights. You frowned.

“You’re hurt,” You pointed out, “Just let me clean it up. It looks painful.” You added, gently moving your hand up to move his hair from his forehead. Looking at it closer did nothing to ease your worries. It looked worse close up.

“I’m fine.” He snapped in response, tilting his head back as you dropped your head to your side. You decided that he didn’t get to be stubborn, not right now. He could hate you later, but you weren’t going to leave him like this.

“Please,” You told him softly, “I’d feel bad if I left you alone like this.” You told him gently, heart hammering as he turned his attention back towards you. He observed you for a long moment, like he was debating his choices. Or just too tired to argue.

“Fine.” He grumbled as he sat on the edge of his bed, his jeans dirty along his knees and thighs. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what the hell he got himself into. But you didn’t press too much.

You gathered up the little things that were available, then worked diligently. You were surprised he was true to his word, sitting still as you dabbed the wash cloth along his face. It still looked bad, but not as terrible as what you had originally thought. Once the blood was cleared, it didn’t look as gnarly.

Your band-aids weren’t as colorful as the previous ones he had, but you hoped that they worked. A million questions raced through your mind, but you kept resting on one. Wondering if he was with Nancy. But you knew it was none of your business and it shouldn’t matter.

“Are you alright?” You asked him as you pulled your hand away, feeling like he looked a lot better than before. But his eyes were dilated, dark and intense as he observed you. Part of you wondered if you had accidentally hurt him.

“I think something’s wrong.” He replied roughly, flicking his tongue out to lick his bottom lip before he gulped roughly. You resisted the urge to touch him again, wondering if he was sick. Maybe he had a fever.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” You questioned him softly, “Steve?” You pried again, tilting your head patiently. He continued to stare, his chest rising and falling slowly before his gaze fell to your lips.

Something in the air shifted, the atmosphere between the two of you growing so tense and quiet you could hear the grandfather clock ticking downstairs. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating, if he could see how your pulse was hitting against your skin.

He leaned forward then, his long fingers falling against your neck as he tugged you closer. Your eyes widened, your lungs stalled as his lips fell against yours. Everything felt like it was falling in slow motion, the world around you stopping.

You expected him to be in pain, to be hurt from how sore and scratched his lips had been. But he didn’t act like that. His groans weren’t from pain, rather from want and need. You could feel it in the way he dragged his lips against yours, how the desperation and lust leaked from his touch.

You felt like putty in his hands as he pulled you closer, sealing the gap between your bodies as his lips moved against yours more frantically. You could feel his teeth gliding against yours, his tongue dipping against the curve of your mouth. It was desperate, carnal.

“Tell me to stop,” He said quickly as he pulled away, brown eyes filled with desperation, “Please.” He begged you as you still felt hazy, your mind mingling from the leftover feeling of his mouth against yours.

You stared at the look in his eyes, how wide and crazed his pupils looked. You wondered if you just had that effect on him, or if it was something else. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t want you to hurt.” You whispered softly, meaning your words fully. If this made him feel better, you’d willingly give yourself to him. He wasn’t related to you, nor were you really siblings. Your parents just happened to be married.

He inhaled deeply, his thumbs brushing across your cheeks as his eyes scanned your features again. He licked his bottom lip, groaning softly as he tilted his face towards yours again. You parted your lips, craving the feeling of him again.

You had seen him kiss before, when Nancy was over or they were sneaking off at school. But he never kissed her like this. He was always gentle with her, soft touches and tender movements.

The way he was holding you was rough, almost animalistic as he tugged you over his lap. His lips were harsh as he kissed you deeply again, his lips moving against yours tenderly but intensely. He held you like he was afraid you’d pull apart or disappear. You weren’t sure. But you didn’t want it to end.

His tongue fell against your teeth, licking away your spit as soft moans fell off of your tongue. His hands fell to your sides, then across your abdomen as he moved towards the buttons on your pajama shirt.

Your heart was beating so harshly in your chest that it hurt, but you ignored it as he pushed your shirt off of your shoulders. Your insides burned with desire as your hands fell to his chest, rolling your palms over his shirt before he pushed you back again.

You huffed as you fell onto your back, just barely getting yourself balanced on your elbows before he was ripping your pajama bottoms off your legs. You had never seen him in this manner before, so focused and intense.

“You’re so pretty,” He breathed out, expression filled with lust as his eyes scanned your body. You bit your bottom lip, feeling shy underneath his gaze, “God, honey. You look incredible.” He praised you, palms falling to your hips as he pulled you closer.

“Steve,” You started softly, feeling like you were in a trance. Or a dream, “Are you sure you want this?” You asked him seriously, feeling like there would be no going back after this. You weren’t sure you could stop after just having a taste of him.

“Never wanted something so badly before,” He groaned as he began to grind his hips down against your thighs, “Please. Just wanna feel you. Just a bit.” He looked far too pretty as he rolled his head back, his lips parting as little moans fell from his tongue.

“Okay,” You nodded your head in agreement, “S’fine.” You agreed with him, figuring it wouldn’t be too bad if you just touched a little bit. There was nothing wrong with that.

His moans sounded heavenly as he pulled back briefly, just enough to shove his jeans and briefs down to his knees. Your eyes fell to the way his cock plopped out against your leg. His size was a bit intimidating, long and hard. His tip was a soft pink, precum leaking onto your skin as he shifted even closer.

“Hurts,” He groaned as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a little stroke, “Feels better now.” He panted as he nodded his head, reassuring himself as he thrust his hips forward. You felt like you were in awe, your mind fuzzy and warm.

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself.” You teased as you leaned forward, gliding your fingers over his slick cock. You gaped at the feeling, rolling your hands up and down the length of his cock. You liked how warm and soft his skin felt, how hard he felt against your fingers.

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” He replied as he snapped his hips forward in bliss. He grunted as you felt a small smile forming on your lips, liking how desperate he was for your touch.

“Am I?” You teased as you licked your bottom lip, enjoying the way he was grinding roughly against your hand. Pleasure was etched across his expression, telling you that he was enjoying it all too much.

“Yeah,” He sighed as he gripped your knees, digging his fingertips into your flesh, “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He apologized, voice breaking up as you wrapped your other hand around the base of his cock. You moved both of your hands together, spreading his slick from his tip to his base.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked him seriously, your clit throbbing as he continued to thrust his hips forward. You almost feared the answer, not wanting him to really say no. You wanted to feel him, to make him feel good.

“No,” He said quickly, desperation forming between his eyebrows, “Please don’t stop. You feel so good around my cock. Please, please.” He cried out, whining as he continued to thrust his hips forward. You licked your bottom lip, admiring the way his cock moved against your fists.

“Do you like that?” You asked him softly, fluttering your eyelashes as he reached his hands forward and gripped your tits. You moaned at the sensation, gasping as he brought his fingers down against your hardened nipples.

He pinched them softly, earning a little moan from you as they hardened in the air. He reached forward, hovering over you before he spit onto your skin. You widened your eyes, feeling like you should be disgusted as he smeared it across your boobs. You weren’t. The sensation traveled down your body, traveling straight to your neglected clit.

He groaned as he rutted his hips forward rougher, his balls slapping against your hand from how roughly he was moving. You felt warm inside as you watched him, wondering what he would feel like inside of you.

“Let me fuck you,” He begged a second later, groaning as he rolled your nipples around between his thumb and fingertip. You continued to stroke him, ignoring the way your wrists were beginning to ache, “Please. I’ll treat you so well, little sister.”

Fuck.

“Okay,” You whispered, not really needing to think about it. You wanted him just as badly. You wondered if you bore the same crazed look in your eye, if lust was written across your expression in the same way, “I want you, Stevie.” You breathed out, glad that your parents would be gone for the next few days. It gave you less to worry about.

Your heart thumped roughly in your chest as he pushed your knees apart and dragged the tip of his cock across your slick folds. You whimpered softly as his leaking tip pressed against your swollen clit, leaving you rolling your hips forward slowly.

“Should we-,” You gulped, trying to collect your thoughts, “Should you get a condom?” You asked him seriously, thinking that it would be best if you were safe.

“I wanna feel you,” He exhaled, eyes dark and pupils shot, “Please. I want to feel you so badly. I’ll be careful. I promise. I wanna feel your cunt so badly.” He begged as he continued to grind against your slick pussy.

“Oh God,” You moaned at the feeling of his heavy dick against you, nodding your head urgently as you bit down on your bottom lip, “Okay. I wanna feel you too.” You admitted, gasping as he slid his tip against your leaking hole.

He moaned at the feeling, pink lips parting in bliss as he bullied his thick cock inside of your thick walls. You whimpered at the sensation of him stretching you out, his cock pressing deeper inside of you as you took a deep breath.

Steve’s hands fell to your fleshy hips, gripping you tightly as he moaned wantonly. His sounds filled the room, desperate and loud as he bottomed out inside of you. His balls were pressed against your slick skin, the tip of his dick nestled against the deepest parts of you. You had never felt so filled before, so stretched and stuffed.

“Steve,” You exhaled roughly, whimpering as you reached down to grip his wrists. This was wrong. So wrong, “Feels good.” You moaned instead, eyes drifting up towards his.

His cock was heavy inside of your cunt, buried snugly inside of you. He fit inside of you so perfectly, like he was a missing puzzle piece. You fought the urge to reach down and touch your clit, feeling how harshly it was buzzing.

He flicked his tongue out across his bottom lip, his smugness hidden behind the lustful expression as he leaned over you. Your knees were pushed to your chest, squishing you as his lips found yours again.

He licked your lips before he kissed you, his lips pressing roughly against yours as he began to slowly rut his hips into you. Your mouth vibrated from his groans, his nose brushing against your skin as he pressed his weight on top of yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He apologized as his lips continued to glide against yours, whining as he began to rock himself into you. His thrusts were rough, rapid as his fingers dug harder into your flesh. He was gripping you so tightly that you were sure he was going to leave your skin sore, “Just feels so good.”

Your body slid against the floor as he dragged you along the curve of his cock, your cunt leaking around his girth as he buried himself deeply with each movement. Your moans mingled with his as your nails dug into his wrist, clawing at him blissfully.

“S’okay, s’okay,” You promised, eyes rolling in the back of your head as his tip pressed against your bundle of nerves with each thrust, “Oh my God!” You whined this time, tone turning pitchy as your knees burned from the feeling of his weight over yours.

Steve’s groans grew louder, whinier as he continued to rapidly thrust his hips forward. You could tell by the desperate look on his features that he was trying to hold himself back, trying not to lose control. But you wanted him to. It all felt so good.

“I bet you did that on purpose,” He groaned as he buried himself deeper into you, “You wanted this, didn’t you?” He accused, moans rolling off of his tongue as his balls smacked against your skin.

“Feels good, so good,” You confirmed as you stuck your nails deeper into his skin, pleasure shooting up your spine at the way he was throbbing inside of your slick walls, “Don’t stop.” You demanded, not wanting the pleasure to stop.

He pressed his lips together, a trail of blood falling from where his scratch had ripped open again. You leaned forward, sticking your tongue out to lick it away. He groaned as he held onto you tighter, his cock heavy against your walls as he stuck his tongue out to meet yours.

Drool fell from his mouth and onto yours as your tongues brushed against his. You curled your tongue around his, moaning at the sensation. You felt your clit throbbing, your walls aching as your climax grew near.

“Let me cum inside you,” He whined as he rutted himself harder against you, like he was trying to get closer, “Please. I’ll make you feel so good.” He nodded his head, eyes meeting yours in desperation.

“Wanna feel you cum inside,” You nodded your head, moaning in agreement at the thought of his spunk spilling from your walls, “Please, please.” You moved your hands up his arms, gripping at his clothes to tug him even closer.

His thrusts became uneven, deeper and sporadic as he rutted his hips against yours in desperation. He was whimpering, his sounds filling the room like a pretty melody as you knitted your fingers through his shirt.

“Fuck, fuck!” He cursed, burying his cock deep inside of you. He gripped you tightly, crying out as his dick twitched inside of you, “Oh my God.” He huffed, whimpering as he continued to grind himself into you.

You moaned at the feeling, blinking your eyes slowly as a hazy feeling settled over you. You gasped as you rolled your hands across his shoulders, admiring the pretty look that filled his expression. He looked so handsome, so ethereal.

You still felt like you were floating as he pulled his weight off of you, letting your legs relax for a moment as he slid his softening dick from your slick hole. You gulped, heart hammering as you feared he’d leave you like this. Pressed to the floor with his cum sliding from your cunt.

He dipped down instead, pressing your legs far apart as he buried his face between your legs. You cried out from the sensation as he kissed at your pussy, sucking on your folds and wrapping his lips around your clit. It was rough and soft at the same time, the sensation spreading up your spine.

His tongue was hot against your clit, lapping at the sensitive bud. You cried out as you dug your fingers through his hair, whining as your hips moved on their own. Your body felt like you were burning, on fire as he spread your legs further apart.

He buried his face deeper between your thighs, his tongue drifting down your folds and to your leaking hole. He curled his tongue inside of your cunt, lapping at your walls and cleaning away his spunk. Everything inside of you was pulsing, twisting and churning in pleasure.

“Steve, Steve -,” You chanted, whimpering as your head fell back against the floor. Your hips rutted up against his face, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue lapped at your spongy walls, “Fuck!” You cursed, shaking as you came with a cry.

You felt like you were floating, your body trembling as your pussy clamped down around his tongue. He kept a tight grip on your hips, keeping you from pulling away as you spasmed from underneath him.

“Oh God,” You cried out, fingers knitting tightly through his hair as your clit throbbed from the overstimulation, “Feels so good.” You breathed out deeply, toes curling as he took one last long lap across your cunt.

“Tastes so good,” He groaned, wet lips sliding against your inner thighs, “You’ve got such a good cunt, baby sister.” He sighed as he dipped back down, taking another broad lick across your clit.

“Can’t,” You squeaked out, feeling like you might melt into the floorboards if he continued, “Too much.” You breathed out, gasping as you tugged his hair away from your sensitive bud.

He looked up at you, his eyes still filled with lust but his pupils were no longer as big. You pressed your fingers tightly together, looking at the mess of cum across his lips and chin. You crooned, wondering what he tasted like.

He collapsed next to you a second later, his chest rising and falling in the same rhythm as your own. You didn’t touch him, didn’t turn your head to look at him as the shame settled over you. You didn’t quite regret it, but you knew it had been wrong. And you were fearful over his thoughts on this. You didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

You both laid there on the floor, the room filled with the sound of the grandfather clock from below as you simmered in your shared mistake. There was no going back.

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