#was not expecting it to get as dark as it did but I’m all for it

[plainclothesdisaster]

Martian Manhunter has seen many things happen in the Watchtower situation room, but this might be one of the strangest.

One of Gotham’s many vigilantes- Red Hood, if he wasn’t mistaken- stormed into the room, slammed his palms on the far side of the long table, and said, “You need to check what the asteroid is made of.”

The asteroid in question was one line item of many agenda points for this meeting. The radar had picked it up as one on a collision course with Earth, but they had protocols for this. They’d dealt with similar situations multiple times before. It’s not often though, that they have uninvited attendees to justice league meetings. That alone is enough to make J’onn wonder.

“How did you get up here, son?” Superman, always the diplomat, attempts to calm some of the confusion.

“Irrelevant. The asteroid. What’s its composition?”

Batman has less patience. “The protocols are in place to deal with the threat. Red Hood—“

“They won’t work.”

Green Lantern, ever not the diplomat, rolls his eyes. “Kid, we’ve dealt with similar situations dozens of times. Care to explain why this one is so special?”

“Just trust me.”

Batman sighs. “I think we’ve heard enough, Hood.”

“No. Wait. I have it on good authority that the usual protocol won’t work.” He retorts, then stares directly at Batman, as if that statement wasn’t just another empty platitude.

Batman’s jaw flexes. An understanding passes between them.

“What authority?” Diana questions, stone faced.

As if in response, the door opens again. A familiar face pops in, seemingly oblivious to the meeting. It’s a member of the Watchtower tech staff. Danny.

“Ah. Whoops,” Danny stutters. “Didn’t know you all were in here. My bad.”

Red Hood transfers his glare to this newcomer, but Danny seems blissfully immune to it. Batman remains uncharacteristically speechless as Danny steps further into the room.

“But while I’m here—“ Danny hits a switch on the wall and a crisp blue light projection of their solar neighborhood beams into view above the table. “I upgraded the holo projectors.” The planets spin and their clouds swirl and their many moons dance in orbit. It’s incredibly accurate and finely detailed.

“Pretty cool, right?”

And there, just beyond the rings of Saturn, is the asteroid in question.

Danny meets Batman’s eyeline and raises his eyebrows. Another silent exchange. It has J’onn on edge. He trusts the team around this table implicitly. He does not, however, trust those who haven’t earned their seat.

He reaches out telepathically for Danny, intending just a surface level read of his intentions. But Upon making connection he’s met with infinite nebulae, an endless vortex, an impossible cold. He grips his knees under the table, suddenly fighting not to be overwhelmed, and then in a snap he’s cut off. Like a fly being swatted.

Danny’s eyes slide to him, slowly. Sorry about that. Should have warned you it’s dangerous to look too close. Danny’s voice echoes across the telepathic link.

J’onn sits up straighter. Just what kind of creature had Batman let on this station?

What do you know. J’onn demands.

Nothing you can’t figure out. Y’all aren’t that dense.

“It’s Kryptonite.” Superman’s dark tone brings his attention back to the table. Batman’s at the holo controls— he’s zoomed in on the asteroid and data and projection lines flicker all around it.

“No- it looks almost like lantern energy. Like it’s a construct.” Green Lantern has lost his snark. A reprieve certainly, but never a good omen.

“Either possibility makes redirection challenging. Destruction inadvisable.” Batman frowns.

J’onn keeps his eyes on Danny, who now seems to be on the receiving end of a whispered lecture from the still-inexplicable Red Hood. Danny looks unbothered, and indeed instead appears like he is rather enjoying himself.

Voices raise around the table as more solutions are offered and discarded. This is not how he expected this meeting to go.

Or maybe you all are that dense. Danny muses down the apparently still-active link.

J’onn is about to interrogate him further when he stops. He’s arrived at the answer to their conundrum.

“Density shifting.”

“J’onn?” Batman quiets the rest of the table and everyone’s focus shifts.

“We density shift the asteroid so it passes through the Earth harmlessly. Between myself and Miss Martian it should be possible.”

Murmurs of assent fill the room. Batman’s gaze goes again to Danny, and J’onn’s follows.

The supposed mechanic is smiling at them like a pleased housecat.

Batman keeps eye contact with Danny down the length of the table. Danny stands at the opposite head, next to Red Hood. For a moment J’onn wonders if the command of the room has shifted.

Until Danny shrugs and says, “Sounds plausible enough. Don’t look at me. I’m just a mechanic.”

J’onn reaches for the telepathic link, but it’s gone. Danny turns to leave, Red Hood at his heels, but before he does he winks at J’onn on his way out the door.

J’onn blinks. The air in the room shifts and settles as soon as Danny’s gone. Batman begins outlining the logistics of the new plan, but J’onn barely hears him.

He can’t get that flash of endless void out of his head. And yet the link did end up leaving an impression of Danny’s intentions after all: Kindness. Secrecy. And a pure, desperate desire to help.

Very strange indeed.

//

“I could have handled it,” Jason says over his shoulder as he stirs the bolognese sauce.

Danny’s sprawled out on the couch with some trashy tv on in the background. “You did great.”

“I’m just saying— you didn’t have to show up.”

“What if I just wanted to see steam come out of Batman’s ears in person?”

“You get to do that every time we go to family dinner,” he pauses to taste the sauce, adds a dash more pepper. “I thought it was supposed to be risky. Y’know- for you to get involved.”

“It is, yeah. Which is the reason for all this roundabout mumbo jumbo. Making them figure it out themselves. Means I’m less likely to get caught.”

He taps his spoon and turns to face Danny. “Why risk it then? Why not just let them deal with it on their own? They would have figured out how to deal with the asteroid eventually.”

“Probably, yeah. But how late? How many of people would have gotten hurt- or worse- in that process?”

Jason sighs. he knows trying to convince Danny to be less self sacrificing is like arguing with a carbon steel wall. The timer beeps and he drains the noodles.

“I was just gonna go handle it myself on the sly but— turned out that dumb rock had enough ectoranium in it to resist ghost powers.”

“You didn’t have to do that either.”

Danny shrugs as Jason plates the pasta and hands him a bowl. Jason takes his seat on the couch next to him.

By the time he’s settled Danny has already shoved a big bite of pasta in his mouth. “You’ve really outdone yourself.” He says between chews.

Jason smiles, but he’s not ready to let it go. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, you gotta let me help you.”

“For sure,” he replies between chews.

“Like, actually help you.”

“Of course.”

“Danny. For real though. If you get caught— I can’t— ugh.” Jason sets his bowl on the coffee table and turns to look Danny in the eye. “All I’m saying is that if you get yoinked away to some other dimension as punishment I’m going to be pretty pissed, okay?”

Danny puts his fork down and gives him a wry look.

“But really, me helping you can’t be /that/ against the rules. And if it is, surely you’ll come save me if I get yoinked too, yeah?”

Danny releases a breathy laugh. “Of course! Of course.” He sighs, and his smile fades. “I really wasn’t going to get involved. I was just gonna get a degree, get a normal enough job, just try to live a life while I could.”

“So do that. The Justice League’s problems aren’t your personal responsibility.”

“No, but— If I have the power to help people— to save people— and I don’t, that kinda makes me a shitty person, no?”

“Not if it means risking the whole life you built.”

“I don’t have a life to risk, remember?”

“You do to me!” He’s raised his voice without meaning to, and Danny looks up at him wide-eyed. Jason’s stomach flips, but he’s still not ready to back down, because it’s true.

The life Danny brought to him over the past months is apparent everywhere around them. His shirts heaped over the chair, the kind of coffee he likes in the cabinet and the mug that’s become his, the dirty dishes from all the meals Jason would have never cooked just for himself, the shitty punk music he insisted on playing. It’s a warmth and a light that’s seeped into his home, and even deeper into the core of himself. He didn’t know he could still feel so alive.

Danny’s eyebrows stitch together and he goes pensive, which Jason rarely has seen. Jason takes a bite of pasta to fill the silence, lukewarm now.

“Oh.” Danny whispers emphatically. “Shit.”

And suddenly Jason is questioning everything. Is this thing they have not real to Danny the way it is for him? Is he just the plaything of a god?

“Jay. I didn’t think—“ he starts and takes a shaky breath. “You’re not supposed to care about me.”

Jason blanks. “What?”

“Im allowed to be human under like, so many conditions. And even then I’m not sure what the hell I even am sometimes. This could all go away at any second, and I have very little control of if and when that happens.”

“So?”

“So? That means I’m going to hurt you, inevitably, whether I want to or not. And I can’t— I won’t—“

Danny’s hands shake, and Jason wordlessly reaches out and pulls him close. He brings Danny’s head to his chest and wraps his arms tight around him. Danny relaxes into him, ear resting over the gentle thud of his heart.

“I don’t care, you dumbass.” And he truly doesn’t. He likes the way Danny makes him feel. He likes the person he is with him. Even if Danny broke his heart on purpose it would still be worth it.

“You should,” the words are muffled through Jason’s shirt. “You shouldn’t want to be with me.”

“Too bad. Also, false. My boyfriend is a god-king with cosmic powers beyond comprehension. Pretty sure that makes me the lucky one.”

Danny chuckles and lifts his chin just enough to meet Jason’s eyes. “I’m going to cosmically comprehend your ass all the way to Pluto if you say something as cringe as that ever again.”

“Mm. Threats. Hot.”

Danny swats at him. Jason just holds him tighter and Danny fights against his arms playfully. Jason knows he could break out at any moment if he really wanted to, but he doesn’t. Instead he settles again, cradled on Jason’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jason breathes into the top of Danny’s mop of hair. “And for now neither are you. And I’ll kick whoever’s ass who has a problem with that.”

“Even mine?”

“Definitely yours.”

“Good.”

Danny lifts up and presses his lips to Jason’s in a cheeky kiss. And Jason eagerly kisses him back.

//

That’s all I’ve got planned for this little AU, thanks for reading :3

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Mantis and His Moth

Yandere FtM Mantis Hybrid Cultist x Male Moth Hybrid Reader CW: Noncon, forced oral sex, aphrodisiac pheromones, musk, scent kink, eating pussy like it's groceries, pussy eating on period, minor character death, human-hybrid sacrifice, fictional religions, indoctrination, brainwashing, cannibalism, terms like pussy and cunt used for trans male genitals, dick riding, biting, overstimulation, non-sexual bondage, drenched in pussy juice, partially suffocated by pussy, public but discrete pussy eating, praise Word Count: 3.6k (Comm for @vanberryhearts, their OC Salem Blackthorn can be viewed HERE)

You grunted as you carried the box. You weren’t very strong, and it was filled to the brim with cans of food to go to the church’s community food drive and you were carrying it around back. The back door was closer to the basement and it was easier to walk it around then go through multiple rooms in the church. Plus the building was all locked up anyway. You had meant to bring the food earlier but you had gotten caught up with other matters.

That was okay though, the fence that led to the back of the property was ajar, so you were just gonna leave the food on the back porch and it would be easy for the priest, Salem Blackthorn, to take it down when he found it there the next morning. He was a strong mantis hybrid man and could carry down much more easily than a small moth hybrid like you.

After you sat down the box you started making your way off the porch, but as you did so the door suddenly opened and Salem stepped out carrying a large object that had been well wrapped in some type of cloth.

When he saw you he seemed surprised but you were already stepping forward and helping him with what he was holding. You barely noticed that the robes he was wearing, while ornate and clearly for religious purpose, were not the typical garb of a priest. They covered most of his body. The hood hid his tan skin, pretty blond hair, and relatively short antennae from the world.

“Oh wow, this is really heavy! I don’t mind helping, where are we taking-”

You tripped on the step off the porch, unbalancing Salem and causing him to drop what he was carrying. It fell right off the porch and landed beside you. The wrapping had been damaged and peeled away and what you saw took a moment for your brain to register.

A bloody corpse with bites ripped out of it in many places.

Before you could think to move Salem was upon you, pulling you into the church and down into the basement with a hand firmly over your mouth as he whispered into your ear.

“I’m sorry dove, you really weren’t supposed to see that.”

The priest took you into the room farthest from the stairs then put a gag over your mouth and left you tied in a chair in the middle of the room before running back upstairs, presumably to take care of the fallen “package” that he had left uncovered outside. He left you alone long enough for you to get a good look at your surroundings. You had never been down here before.

And after taking note of what was around you doubted many people that had seen this place were still alive.

In front of you there was an altar. A medium sized and intricately stone sculpture of a spider lay in the center. In front of the statue was a large silver goblet filled with blood. An offering. The sculpture’s eyes were inlaid rubies and its gaze filled you with despair. It was a depiction of the arachnid goddess, Arachna. She was mostly worshiped these days by small clandestine groups huddled in small dark rooms hidden from the gaze of society.

Much like this room.

Though you certainly hadn’t expected a worshiper of the insect god, The Great Moth Regalis, to be a disciple of the foul Arachna. Though you supposed that’s exactly why it was such a perfect cover.

Not fighting wasn’t an option. You struggled with every ounce of strength that you had. Sweat dripped down your brow. You didn’t want to end up another bitten corpse with your blood in that goblet as a sacrifice to the spider goddess.

You wriggled and writhed in your binds, drawing blood from various places where the ropes chaffed your bare skin. Your wings burned with the effort of flexing and vibrating them to try and squirm free. And your throat ached with the burden of trying to scream through your gag.

The binds were too formidable. Clearly made by someone who was experienced with this sort of thing.

All your struggles amounted to was making the chair you were in lean over and fall, causing your head to smack painfully against the cold concrete floor. You almost wished it had been enough to knock you out or even kill you outright, then and there, then you wouldn’t have to be conscious for the fate that surely awaited you as soon as Salem returned. All that you could do was cry as you awaited death.

Salem was so frustrated. How could he have allowed this to happen? He had left the gate unlocked allowing you to just traipse upon him right at the exact moment that he was hauling out the body?? The timing was absurd! What were the odds?

He ran over to shut and lock the gate that allowed passage to the back of the church before returning to the body. He re-wrapped the body properly, as it was an important part of the ritual, as he pondered what to do about you.

Killing you was out of the question entirely. Aside from the fact that he never killed any permanent resident or their visiting family, to avoid arousing suspicion, he also harbored quite a strong crush on you. He had sense he first laid eyes on you during his first sermon.

Your eyes stared up at him hanging on every word that passed his lips. So devout, so diligent in your charitable works, so deliciously… innocent…

Oh, how he longed to corrupt you. And to make it even better you were a regal moth hybrid. Such hybrids were regarded as being good luck to those around them as the insect god Regalis was a regal moth himself.

Just the thought of indoctrinating you into the cult made his heart flutter and wetness flow from his crotch. It would take his defiling of the mother religion to new heights and surely make Arachna happy.

The mantis had not yet put his desires into motion. He had planned to slowly get you more and more attracted to him before working on getting you addicted to his pheromones until you were totally dependent on him. Now it appeared that he would have to rush forward without much subtlety. But that was okay, he could definitely do so.

He finished with the body, taking it to a pit he had dug earlier, and placed it in carefully before topping it with a small apple sapling. Just one of many that would match the little orchard he had growing in the field behind the church.

You flinched when you heard the door open and trembled with pure fear, your mind conjured forth innumerable horrors, all the manners in which he may torture and eventually kill you went through your terrified mind. You renewed your futile bid for freedom, floundering about as best you were able.

When Salem saw you he scoffed.

“Tsk, tsk.”

He bent down to right your chair and brushed your cheek with all the tenderness in the world after doing so before placing a gentle kiss on your tear soaked cheek.

“There, there, my little moth. No need to be so scared.”

Obviously, those words did nothing to dispel you of the terror that had so thoroughly stricken you, if you even took notice of them at all with all the adrenaline coursing through you and your heart beating faster than it ever had before.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes as sobs racked your body.

“Aww. Please don’t worry, pretty thing, you won’t be suffering too much longer.”

This made you shake and sob much harder. This was it. That was his way of telling you that he was going to snuff out your life. That you’d be joining that other body wherever it had been dragged off to. You’d be offered up like a slab of meat to the vile spider. You were getting dizzy and hyperventilating. This couldn’t be happening. You were a good man and you had so much to live for. So much good to do.

Then something unexpected happened. Salem disrobed himself of the cultist garb he had been cloaked in, revealing a drooling pussy and dizzying your mind now not with a lack of air but with his musky pheromones.

He spoke as if reading your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to fuck then eat you. That’s actually a harmful stereotype derived from feral regular mantises, not something a mantis hybrid does!”

You really had no reason to believe him.

Though he did lure in tasty horny sacrifices in with a promise of sex before forcing them to eat him out, to dose them with his pheromones, before partially eating them alive and then killing them. But that was because it was what Arachna demanded! Not because he was a mantis hybrid!

Still, he had no intention of harming you and you did not require the extra details at this time.

The tall man undid your gag and let it fall away before replacing it with his dripping wet cunt, pushing your head into it gently but firmly. You tried to move your head but were ultimately unable to avoid the smell and taste of his sex.

The smell was just amazing, slowly making you blush and your face feel overheated. The feeling soon spread all over your entire body. It relaxed your tense muscles and caused your member to tent in your pants. You whimpered in need as you began eagerly slipping your tongue into your captor, lapping at his surprisingly sweet pussy juice.

He smiled down at you, removing his hand as he no longer needed to force your face into it after his pheromones took effect.

“Such a good boy for me~”

No one could resist the scent of his pussy when presented directly in their face. They’d feel no pain and every touch would feel amazing. It didn’t hurt that little mothies like you were naturally attracted to sweet nectar-like fluids.

Your moans and overstimulated whimpers were just precious to him. Making him wetter and wetter. He toyed with his clit as he allowed you to drink up his fluid at your own pace. Your face was already absolutely drenched.

It seemed as if there was just no end to the impossibly delicious fluid that flowed from him like a fountain.

He had to push you away so that he could untie you and remove your soaked clothes, revealing your excited cock. You weren’t even paying any attention, just trying to get back into that pussy. When you were finally released you dove right back into it, clinging to him with both of your arms as you slurped his cunt.

When he came it was a fresh torrent of pheromones even more potent than the last. You became so overstimulated that you could barely move. He guided you to another room in the basement, one that was closer to the door.

You could barely stand by the time he got you through the door so he gently picked you up and carried you to a soft bed, laying your pussy juice covered body down carefully as if he was afraid you would shatter to dust in his hands.

If you had been one of his usual victims, one of the tourists he lured in off the street, this is when he would have started devouring you to death before draining out your blood and wrapping you in spider webbing. But you were his cute little moth so he would treat you with the utmost care. And one day you would help kill tasty snacrifices for Arachna. It would be Salem’s perfect relationship.

But until then there was something more urgent that needed attending to.

He lowered himself down onto your hard cock as he placed a finger coated in his nectar for you to suck while he rid you. He took his time, savoring the delicious moment when he took his sweet little new boyfriend for the first time.

You didn’t last very long at all inside the heat of his pussy, quickly mingling his fluids with your cum. You cried as you climaxed, it was all so much. The feel of the silk beneath you, the touch of his teeth gently nibbling and sucking the flesh of your neck, his hands trailing up and down your sides. Every touch against your skin made you shiver in pleasure.

It was all okay though, Salem didn’t mind at all. His naturally drugged juices kept you hard and ready to go several times over, he didn’t stop riding you until your balls had been thoroughly emptied into him and each orgasm began to approach the borderline of pleasure into pain. He had finished while riding you a couple times as well. The sight of your pretty little face gasping and moaning with the burden of too much pleasure, your erratically twitching antenna, your sporadically fluttering wings, practically sent him into a rut. Made him feel a primal urge to fuck you over and over until you were soaked to the bone in his juices and no one could deny you were his and his alone.

You were the only moth worthy of worshiping and giving pleasure. Not that pitiful god of yours. He’d make you convert to his faith with an unyielding flood of sex and love.

And that was exactly what Salem did.

Every waking moment, barring those where he had to maintain his priestly facade, were spent in unfathomable pleasure followed by aftercare and honeyed words. Sex, pheromones, cuddling, doting, feeding (he often mixed his very own pheromone laden “sauce” into your meals). But mostly the sex. You tried to remain devout, to maintain the hold on your beliefs, and while it took longer than Salem had expected the transformation was all the stronger for having been tested so thoroughly.

There was a brief relapse in the early days of the process. One of the church’s nuns had entered the bedroom you were being kept in down in the basement. You begged her for help as hope returned to your heart, only to be dashed as she held up a spider pendant. That’s when you realized all the nuns must be members of the cult too. Later that day, in response to having asked for help, Salem was extra “attentive.”

Despite the brief setback, your mind eventually transformed. You found yourself hopelessly clingy and in need of your Salem. You no longer needed pheromones for sex and were more than eager to taste him or slip inside him and often initiated the encounters yourself. When the two of you weren’t busy making love you clung to his arm. He made you feel happy and secure.

He no longer kept you locked in the basement, instead you attended services as normal. Making up an illness as an excuse for your previous absence.

But the changes to your ways of thinking and behavior didn’t stop at being hopelessly in need of your mantis boyfriend. He had also successfully moved you to the worship of Arachna. It thrilled Salem to no end knowing he had fully converted you, a moth of all things, into being a being of sinful debauchery and Arachna worship.

But there was still one important thing left to do to officially solidify your position in his cult. Your baptism in blood. You were nervous, but eager to appease your new goddess. And of course your boyfriend. In no small part because he said that after you did this with him then you could get married in the eyes of Arachna.

All you had to do was make your first sacrifice. Salem assured you that he would lure them down and drug them, all you would need to do is kill them with him and help wrap them in the traditional way that Arachna demanded.

You were really nervous, but Salem calmed you down. He selected yet another tourist who he said deserved it. Whose greatest contribution in life would be as a sacrifice to Arachna. He assured you that he was doing a service, he only selected the scum of society. He had mystic ways of knowing the kinds of things that they did.

Though at this point your mantis had so much control over you that even if he had told you that you were killing an angel you probably could have been convinced that you were doing the right thing for Arachna.

The soon to be corpse that Salem had selected for you was an ant hybrid. He eagerly followed the handsome priest down, thinking he was getting lucky with a priest of his religion. Which Salem pointed out was further proof that he was vile. Followers of the moth were not to seek pleasure from someone of the cloth, if he was a half decent person he would not violate his own religion so readily.

Salem had him sit in one of the rooms in the basement, they both disrobed and Salem guided the ant’s head to his cunt, forcing him to get drunk in much the same way you had been your first time with Salem.

Though this hybrid’s night started similarly to yours it would end quite differently.

After he was thoroughly inebriated from the musk and pheromones produced by Salem’s sex he was led by Salem into the altar room where you were waiting anxiously.

Since you were unable to bite him to death like Salem you used a knife instead. It was a small mercy as it ended him much more quickly. Not that it would have mattered, he was so drugged that he wouldn’t have felt anything but pleasure anyway.

“A-and you promise this won’t cause him any pain?”

Salem stroked your arm comfortingly.

“Of course not my little moth, he will feel nothing but pleasure and through his death he will be cleansed in the many eyes of Arachna. We are saving his immortal soul by discarding his corrupted flesh.”

With renewed resolve you leaned him over a bucket and slit his throat allowing the warm blood to pool into the goblet before you set it before the statue. Your mantis has you at least lick the knife. It was a jarring metallic taste that made you flinch and curl your antenna in disgust. Salem chuckled and assured you that you’d get used to it.

And you did, during subsequent sacrifices the mantis hybrid would bite pieces off the victim for you since you lacked teeth sharp enough to do so. Then he’d chew the chunks and feed them to you while the two of you made out so you could enjoy the full ritual. You definitely learned to enjoy the flavor of fresh meat and blood.

When all the blood had left the ant man you wrapped the body up in your own silk as Salem guided you in how to do the wrapping then the two of you hauled him out, Salem doing the antlion’s share of the work, and buried him before planting a tree.

Many months after your first kill, on a Sunday morning, Salem was giving a sermon. Your fellow church goers thought you were absent from service but you were present, just not in view. Not in their view anyway. You were closer to the priest than any of them. Right under the pulpit. It was a grand fixture, large and imposing, wrapping around and concealing all of Salem’s sides. Perfect, as it turned out, for concealing a lover worshiping between the mantis’ legs.

You were making out with his pussy, kissing and licking it lovingly and deeply. You started letting out little whimpers and gasps as his extra potent pheromones kicked in. He was on his period and it seemed the blood you were lapping up gave his juices an extra punch. As you began to forget just exactly where you were, getting lost in his bloody cunt, you began to make soft moans and whimpers.

Salem continued his sermon unabashed, passionately railing against the sins of the flesh. Preaching about how Regalis demanded marriage before fornication, as he carefully took one of his hands and pushed you into his crotch to silence your noises before they got any louder.

You had some difficulty breathing as his sex threatened to drown you, but you continued to seek out the unique flavor and musk. Your antenna curled as you came untouched, your moan thankfully muffled by Salem.

Salem came soon after, his pussy absolutely gushing all over you. All the stimulation, all the taboo thrill of getting oral sex from his little mothy while making a mockery of the opposing religion, honoring Arachna through hedonism, the sight of his debauched darling struggling for breath and looking up at him with half lidded eyes lost in pleasure, it all culminated in the best orgasm of his life.

He didn’t let it show on his face though.

Salem wrapped up his sermon, once more reminding the church goers to resist temptation as they filed out the door. When the last one left he stopped pressing your face into him. You gasped for breath momentarily but went right back to licking him clean.

The mantis smiled at the scene below him, you were covered in his lubricant, face smeared with his blood, you looked absolutely ruined just for him.

“Such a good boy.”

He stroked your wet cheek as he allowed you to continue for a while, basking in the pleasant sensation, until finally he took you back downstairs. He’d worry about cleaning under the pulpit later. Right then it was more important he cleaned you up and rewarded you for such a good job.

[dfstolenart]

Home With You | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: After a long and emotionally exhausting day, you come home feeling overwhelmed from the weight of your job but luckily your sweet loving boyfriend is there to comfort you.

A/N: so cuteeeee, love this one. Lmk your thots<33

BYR (B4 u Reid): sweet Spencer!, hard day at work, hints at abuse, child gets taken away, sad reader, sweet talk, flirting and feeling of not being enough. | kissing <— [warnings]

Your home was dimly lit when you entered the smell of a vanilla candle filled your nose, and your boyfriend was on the couch with a book on his lap

The weight of the day still pressing on your shoulders, you shut the door quietly behind you and drop your bag down with little care to where it lands

The exhaustion isn’t just physical, it sits in your bones heavy and aching, like the stories you’ve heard today, the ones you can’t unhear. The ones that make you question if you’re even making a difference.

You forget you’re standing in the middle of the entry way until a soft gentle voice pull you out “You’re late.”

He’s still sat on the couch only this time his eyes are on you scanning your face the way he does when he profiles a suspect “I know.” You murmur as you kick off your shoes “Didn’t expect to be.”

You make your way towards him, and he quickly closes his book moving it to the side of him “Come here.” He softly says as he pulls you onto his lap “tough day?”

The laugh that leaves you is hallow “That’s one way to put it.” Before you can say anything else Spencer’s hand is cupping your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones

His touch is grounding, pulling you back from the spiral you feel yourself slipping into.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head “not yet”

He nods, understanding in his eyes “okay”

You rest your head on him, and grab his hands interlacing them together

For a while neither of you speak. The silence is comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. But Spencer is patient, he always is. He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. Eventually you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

“There was a little boy today. Six years old. His mom.. she” your voice cracked “She wasn’t a monster, Spencer. She wasn’t some evil person, but she was sick, and he was the one paying for it.” You feel his arms tighten around you, and he presses a soft gentle kiss to the side of your head “I’m sorry” he murmurs

“I had to take him away. He cried the whole time for his mommy, telling me she didn’t mean it trying to convince me to take him back home.” Your eyes stung with tears and you squeeze them shut “I know I did the right thing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Spencer sighed, and squeezed your hand “Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself if I’ve done the right thing? If all of us at the BAU have? We don’t always get happy endings. Sometimes we don’t even get closure, But what keeps me going, what keeps us all going is knowing that we tried. That we did everything we could.”

You met his gaze, searching for something understanding, reassurance. And you find it.

His hand leaves yours to brush a tear from your cheek “That little boy… he might not understand now, but one day, he will. And because of you he’ll have a chance at something better.”

You let out a shaky breath

“I just feel like I’m suffocating sometimes, like no matter how much I do it’s never enough for these kids. I want to do more for them, i wish I could just take all their pain from them.”

Spencer pulled you in closer to him “you’re doing more than enough.” You close your eyes allowing yourself to believe him, even if it’s just for tonight.

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too.” He says, holding you tighter, as if he could shield you from all the darkness in the world.

Spencer holds you against him for a long time, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm. His warmth, his presence, it’s enough to keep you tethered even when your mind still lingers on the weight of the day

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice lighter now, teasing “cuddling releases oxytocin, which reduces stress and promotes emotional bonding. So technically I am scientifically proven to be good for you.”

You both look at each other smiles both plastered on your faces “oh, is that so Dr. Reid?”

“Mhm” he hums clearly pleased with himself “Also prolonged physical affection can also lower blood pressure and improve someone’s overall mood. So, really, I’d be doing you a disservice if I let you go.”

Amusement flickered through your tired eyes “To me, that sounds like an excuse to keep me in your arms.”

He smirked “It’s science. Don’t argue against it.”

You shake your head rolling your eyes “I think you just like having me close.”

“I do” he admits easily, his voice dropping just slightly sending a shiver down your spine, his fingers continue to trail lightly up and down your arm “You’re warm, you smell good and well I’m very fond of you.”

“Fond of me?” You raised an eyebrow “You’re supposed to be utterly obsessed with me.”

He let out a small laugh “what if I say I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you? That I think about you every second we’re apart, and when you’re not in my arms, I wish you were.”

Your breath catches, your heart flutters you feel so special to hear these words come from the man in front of you “That's better.” you say

Spencer leans in, brushing his nose against yours before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. It's slow, lingering, and so sweet

Then he pulls back, you feel empty without his lips on yours “Then i’ll remind you every day for as long as I live.” your heart swelled

“You're really good at this whole comforting thing.” You smile as you rest your forehead against his, he grins “Well I do have an IQ of 18-”

“Shut up” you cut him off with a desperate kiss . . .

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART ELEVEN

summary: a morning heavy with guilt. you try to leave, but myung-gi’s desperation breaks you. you know you should go—but instead, you stay.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: mention of cheating, swearing, angst

bad investment masterlist

The morning after was quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that came with peace. Not the kind that made you feel safe or warm.

No—this was the quiet that came after a storm. The kind that rang in your ears, made your skin itch, made your stomach twist like it knew something was wrong.

You sat on the edge of Myung-Gi’s bed, staring at the floor, fingers curled around the hem of his oversized t-shirt—the one you had thrown on before climbing under the sheets last night. He was still asleep beside you, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

You should leave.

You should say it now, wake him up and tell him straight to his face that it was over. That you didn’t love him anymore.

Because the truth was—if you were cheating, if you were lying, if you were sneaking off to let another man kiss you in the dark—what the fuck were you even doing here?

You knew what people said about girls like you. Knew the words they’d use—selfish, ungrateful, slut. And maybe they were right. Maybe you were all of those things. But if staying with him meant sneaking around, meant lying, meant bending yourself into someone you weren’t just to keep the peace—then what was worse?

The cheating? Or the fact that you felt nothing about it?

You exhaled through your nose, pressing your palms into your thighs.

Just do it. Say it. Get up and leave before you change your mind.

But then—

A sleepy groan behind you. Sheets rustling. A warm arm wrapping around your waist, tugging you back.

“Babe,” Myung-Gi rasped against your shoulder, his voice thick with sleep. His lips brushed your skin, lazy and affectionate. “Come back to bed.”

You stiffened, fingers curling into your palms.

Now or never.

“I wanna break up.”

The words spilled out before you could stop them, before you could overthink, before you could fold. They left a sour taste in your mouth, but you forced yourself to stay still, to sit with it.

Behind you, Myung-Gi went rigid.

His arm didn’t move. His breath hitched.

Then—slowly, carefully—he sat up.

“The fuck did you just say?”

You swallowed, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. “I said I wanna break up.”

Silence.

You could feel him staring at you, his body still half-tangled in the sheets. Then he scoffed, an incredulous laugh escaping under his breath.

“You’re joking,” he said flatly.

“I’m not.”

He stared harder. “You’re really serious.”

You nodded.

Another beat of silence. Then—

“The fuck is this about?” He sounded annoyed now, like you were inconveniencing him. “You got a problem with something? You mad at me?”

“No.” You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “I just don’t think this is working.”

Another scoff, sharper this time. “Not working?” His voice picked up, irritation creeping in. “What the fuck does that even mean? Since when?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” His jaw clenched. “What, you just wake up one day and decide you don’t wanna be with me anymore?”

You inhaled, pressing your lips together. “Something like that.”

His hands twitched in the sheets. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

You didn’t respond.

You had nothing to give him—no long explanation, no tearful confession. Nothing.

Because you didn’t owe him that.

Because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

You didn’t want him anymore. That was enough.

But Myung-Gi—he wasn’t taking it.

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head like he could physically reject the idea. “No, this is stupid. You don’t mean this.”

“I do.”

He grabbed your wrist. Not rough, not forceful—just enough to make you look at him.

His face had changed. Gone was the sneer, the irritation—the anger you had been expecting. Instead, something softer settled there. Something desperate.

His brows furrowed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but he just—looked at you.

And then—

“Please don’t do this,” he murmured.

You blinked.

Myung-Gi never said please.

Not like this.

He shook his head again, eyes darting between yours. “You don’t mean it. I know you don’t. You’re just—fuck, you’re just saying this because you’re mad about last night, right?”

Your stomach turned. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what?” His voice cracked, and it startled you—startled you enough to actually look at him, really look at him.

His eyes were red. Wet.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “I love you. Why would you wanna leave me?”

Your throat tightened.

Because you don’t own me. Because I don’t love you. Because I shouldn’t have to justify not wanting to be with you.

But you didn’t say any of that.

Because suddenly, Myung-Gi was clutching at you, holding you like you were slipping through his fingers. His face crumpled, his breath hitched, and then—

A tear slipped down his cheek.

And just like that, you felt it.

That fucking guilt.

You had been so sure. So fucking sure. But now—

His grip on you was soft, pleading, and you could feel it—the way he needed you. The way he looked at you like you were his entire world, like he couldn’t even comprehend the idea of you leaving.

And maybe you didn’t love him. Maybe you had already moved on.

But right now, Myung-Gi needed you to stay.

And you—weak, stupid, selfish you—caved.

Your shoulders sagged. Your stomach curled in on itself. And when he pulled you closer, you let him.

“Don’t leave me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “Please, baby.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because you were breaking. Crumbling. Folding into him like you always did.

And Myung-Gi?

He knew it.

So he wiped at his face, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands found your waist, warm and firm, grounding you there.

“You don’t wanna leave,” he whispered. “I know you don’t.”

And the worst part?

You nodded.

Because right now, you almost believed it.

[ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen]

Could I make a crazy fiction request? A bartender takes a music course at the local junior college. The instructor (harry styles) fancies her, but one of the clubhouse bikers (butler) gets seriously upset about the situation on a level she doesn't even realize.

Jealous Much?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀᴜꜱᴛɪɴ ʙᴜᴛʟᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀʀʀʏ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ??

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: physically fighting, some sexual references I think

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: our lovely user above

A/N - I don't know if this is what you imagined but I hope I did you justice!! maybe I'll do one where she and harry have a moment? if y'all want both of them to be with her? Idk......

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。 °。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。

The smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke clung to the air, mingling with the low hum of rock music from the old jukebox in the corner. Y/N wiped down the counter, her fingers absently tracing the rim of an empty glass as she stole a glance at the far side of the room.

Austin Butler sat in his usual spot—a dark corner booth, back against the wall, beer in hand. He was watching. Not obviously, not in a way that anyone else would notice, but she felt it. The weight of his stare had been on her all night, just like it had been every night since she started that damn music class.

She wasn’t sure what his problem was. He wasn’t exactly the chatty type, but lately, he had been quieter. More brooding. More intense.

The bell above the door jingled, drawing her attention away.

Harry Styles walked in, his presence immediately at odds with the rough atmosphere of the bar. He wasn’t out of place, exactly—he had that effortless charm that made people like him anywhere—but he definitely didn’t belong. Dressed in a fitted button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, he carried himself with a confidence that was different from the men in the clubhouse.

"Y/N," he greeted her with that easy smile, sliding onto a stool at the bar. "Didn’t expect to find you working so late."

She smirked, tossing the rag over her shoulder. "Gotta pay for those classes somehow, professor."

"Just Harry, love," he corrected, resting his forearms on the counter. "I wanted to check in, see if you had any questions about the last assignment."

"Not unless you’ve got a way to make music theory less of a headache," she teased, pouring him a drink without asking. He didn’t usually stay long, just enough for a quick drink and some small talk before heading out.

Before she could slide his drink across the bar, a hand reached out, stopping her.

Austin.

Austin had been still up until that moment, watching, waiting. But the second Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N a little too long, the second his voice dipped into something that sounded a little too familiar, Austin moved.

He had moved without her noticing, suddenly standing beside her, his grip firm around her wrist. His eyes weren’t on her, though. They were locked on Harry, cold and unreadable.

"Think you should find another place to drink, professor," Austin said, voice low, steady.

Harry’s easy demeanor faltered for a fraction of a second before he forced a chuckle. "Didn’t realize this was a members-only establishment."

Austin didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. His grip on her wrist tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her pulse jump.

"It is now."

Y/N's breath hitched. Harry exhaled through his nose, clearly sensing the shift in the air. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Austin was dangerous. But he also wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge.

"Look, mate," Harry said, pushing his drink away. "I’m just here to talk to Y/N. No need for the caveman routine."

Wrong move.

The second the words left his mouth, Austin lunged.

Y/N barely had time to react before Austin grabbed Harry by the collar, yanking him clean off the barstool. The stool clattered to the floor as Austin shoved him backward, sending them both crashing into a nearby table.

"Hey!" Y/N shouted, scrambling around the bar.

Harry stumbled but recovered fast, shoving Austin off him with surprising strength. "The hell is your problem, man?"

Austin’s jaw clenched, eyes burning with something raw and dangerous. "You."

Harry scoffed, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his lip. "All this over a girl?" He glanced at Y/N, but before he could say another word, Austin swung.

His fist connected with Harry’s jaw, the sickening crack of bone against bone echoing through the empty bar. Harry reeled backward, knocking over another chair as he regained his footing.

"Jesus Christ!" Y/N rushed forward, grabbing Austin’s arm before he could go in for another hit. "Austin, stop!"

But Austin wasn’t listening. His chest was rising and falling heavily, knuckles flexing at his sides. Harry spat blood onto the floor, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

"You’ve got some serious issues, mate," Harry muttered, rubbing his jaw. "All this just because I talked to her?"

Austin’s lip curled. "No. Because you don’t know when to back off."

Harry gave a humorless chuckle. "Neither do you, apparently."

That was it.

Austin lunged again, this time grabbing Harry by the shirt and slamming him into the bar. Bottles rattled on the shelves as Austin pressed his forearm against Harry’s throat, eyes dark with something possessive and unforgiving.

"Y/N ain’t yours," Harry choked out, gripping Austin’s arm.

Austin didn’t even flinch. His voice was calm when he spoke, but it carried an edge that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

"She’s not yours either."

Harry struggled for a second longer before finally going still. The fight wasn’t worth it. He knew when he was outmatched.

Austin let go, stepping back just enough to let him breathe. Harry took the opportunity, shoving him off as he straightened his shirt. He shot one last look at Y/N—something unreadable in his expression—before shaking his head.

"See you in class," he muttered, turning toward the door.

The second it slammed shut behind him, Y/N whirled on Austin, shoving at his chest.

Austin barely budged. His breathing was still heavy, the tension still rolling off him in waves. His hands twitched, like he wasn’t done yet—like he wanted to grab her, wanted to finish this a different way.

"You shouldn’t be around him," he said simply.

Y/N’s eyes flashed. "And why the hell not?"

Austin exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to hold himself back.

"You really need me to spell it out?"

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms. "Actually? Yeah, I do. Because while I’ll admit your jealousy riles me up in a way I didn’t think it would"—she stepped closer, tilting her head—"must you pick a fight with the only teacher I actually like?"

Austin’s lips twitched, like he almost wanted to smirk.

"Didn’t seem like you just liked him," he muttered.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You think every man who talks to me wants to fuck me?"

Austin’s gaze darkened. "I know when a man wants you."

That shut her up.

Her pulse jumped, but she refused to let him see her waver. "So what? You beat up every guy who looks at me the wrong way now?"

Austin’s jaw flexed. "Only the ones who don’t know how to back off."

Y/N inhaled, suddenly very aware of how close he was, of how the anger between them had twisted into something else. Something thick and electric.

Her voice dropped. "You were jealous."

Austin stepped closer, crowding her against the bar. "Not jealous," he murmured. "Just done waiting."

Y/N swallowed, her breath catching. "For what?"

Austin lifted a hand, fingers grazing her jaw—gentle, despite the fire still simmering beneath his skin. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, lingering.

"You already know, sweetheart."

Y/N should’ve pushed him away.

Should’ve reminded him that this wasn’t how things worked. That fighting someone for her wasn’t the way to get under her skin.

But the problem was—

He already was under her skin.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted him out.